“Robot!” Frank yells, looking back over his shoulder. “Wipe the memory! Delete the last three weeks! They can’t use you against me if there’s nothing in your head!”
“Frank,” the Robot says. Its voice is a neutral, synthesized baritone—a sound meant to soothe, but to Frank, it sounds like a funeral bell for his independence. “It is 2:00 PM. You have not engaged in your cognitive exercises.” Robot & Frank
“I wish to return to work ,” Frank corrects. “There’s a jewelry store in the village. New security system. Laser grids, pressure plates, the works. If you’re so smart, if you’re such a ‘helper,’ help me map the blind spots.” “Robot