15
Stirring a bowl of oatmeal for Claire, Harry threw in a few berries – his youngest always wanted fruit in her cereal – and then set it down on the kitchen counter. The damn robot was right next to him, watching him like some poor diva who had just been forced to let her understudy take centre stage.
“Michael” had long metal arms with hands of duroplastic and long metal legs that ended in plodding feet. Its all too human face was frozen in a blank expression, and that just made the damn thing even creepier.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, grunting his disapproval. “Do you have to stand right there?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Aren't you things programmed with some level of tact?”
Michael took a step back.
Its head came up, and the glowing eyes seemed to brighten. “This uni
