In a quiet click of a hard drive, the diamonds on the table become just shiny rocks. The planning, the laughter, the "work"—it all vanishes into a void of unallocated space.

“Hello,” the Robot says. “I am a Home Care Assistant. I have no records currently stored. How can I help you today?”

Frank looks up, his eyes milky but sharp. “I’m experiencing you, you bucket of bolts. You’re a glorified toaster with a PhD in nagging.”