The pudgy man breathed heavily and sank deeper into the cushion of his chair. Stretching his legs, he admired the stripes in his socks, then called to the next room. "Wendell?"
Floating inches off the ground, the robot whirred through the door, its arms raised at attention. "Yes, Mr.
(more) Horton?"
"Wendell, today is the day. I've finally decided and won't be talked out of it."
The robot chirped and a light in his chest dimmed then flared. "We have spoken of this before. You are prepared?"
The man sat up and looked into the robot's single blue eye. "As if such a thing could be prepared for, Wendell. The notion certainly has no inherent appeal for me but at least I'll be contributing to the greater knowledge of world. Isn't that so?"
The robot stood in place saying nothing. The pudgy man rose and walked to the window, his hands clasped behind him. He stared at the cityscape, his eyes returning again and again to the cross that levitated above the Holy Church of the Mechanical Redeemer.
"When can they get here, Wendell?"
"Ten minutes after I send the message, sir."
"Send the message, then, Wendell. No point in waiting any longer." The man began to disrobe, flinging his clothes to the floor until he was completely nude except for his socks.
"Gang raped by robots. To death. Whoever would have thought?" The man rubbed his paunch consolingly.
"Will they be dry, Wendell? I mean, their parts, will they be smooth or.... ?"
"Per your request, sir, they will be quite rough. No lotion or emollient of any kind. The level of pain will be quite high, sir."
The man smiled, wondering how long the machines would sodomize him before he was dead enough to be disembowelled for the cameras.
(less)
