I sit in my study, by the fireplace, musing to myself.
Truly, I have built robots.
Giant Robots, the sort that destroy cities, and smaller, subtler Robots, undistinguishable from men, to replace world leaders.
When armies were called for, Robot armies. I needed companionship, and the most beautiful Robots were by my side.
And yet, in my autumn years I’m unfulfilled. It’s as though I have tired of building robots…
From the corner, my Robutlers eyes glow red as he remembers his first command, accidentally given so many years ago.
“If I ever get tired of building Robots, kill me.”