the smuggler’s bible

Quintilius

Quintilius presses the switch that calls the robot butler and waits patiently for several minutes, listening to the regular, metallic thud of the machine’s head against wood. He jots a short note, prioritize pathfinding and obstacle analysis, then gets up and opens the door.

“AWAITING ORDER.”

“How do you feel about bringing me a drink? We had a little trouble last time.”

“AWAITING ORDER.”

“Bring me a drink, please.”

“AFFIRM OBTAIN LEMONADE BEVERAGE.”

“Jesus, is that the default?” Quintilius flips through his notes. “No, something warm.”

“ENGAGING OBTAIN HOT LEMONADE BEVERAGE,” the machine says, inbuilt chassis percolator already burbling softly.