I, Robot.
I, Robot.
The sun started to rise, slowly filling the room with a soft, golden glow. Nelson yawned and rolled over, the sheets tangling around his legs. He smiled at the pile of blankets next to him.
“Good morning, my sweet!” he whispered cheerfully. There was no response.
Nelson sat up gingerly, trying not to disturb his partner form their deep sleep under all of those blankets. He took his time getting out of bed and crept quietly around the room, getting ready for the day. As he brushed his teeth, he decided he would make a big, fancy breakfast and wake up his partner with a tray full of pancakes and eggs. He was so delighted by this, he practically skipped out of the room, still making sure to be quiet.
An hour later, the house was filled with the delicious aroma of banana pancakes, maple syrup, and turkey bacon. Nelson carefully arranged everything on a tray, and marched proudly to the bedroom, nudging the door open with his shoulder.
“Hey sweetie!” he whispered, walking over to the opposite side of the bed where they slept. Balancing the tray carefully in one hand, he used the other to nudge the pile of blankets softly. Still no response. He laughed tenderly and carefully placed the tray down on the nightstand, giving a silent prayer that nothing would happen to all his hard work. He patted the blankets softly, trying to nudge them awake. He sighed heavily and pulled back the blankets, hoping they would wake up from the sunlight. He also hoped they wouldn’t be angry. He was pleasantly surprised to see them waking up.
“Hey, sorry to wake you up! I made you breakfast!” he picked the tray up and pulled back the blankets all the way off their body.
Will Smith stared angrily up from the bed, a stormy sky and an empty road behind him. He was dressed all in black, with a long gray jacket. His picture was shaped as a large, capital ‘I’. On the bottom of his picture read “One man saw it coming” in a bold print. Nelson smiled sheepishly, and put the tray down on the bed before his lover. A small breeze came in through the open window, ruffling some of the first pages of the book up.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, grinning so much his jaw began to ache. The book said nothing, for it was a book. Nelson sat down on the end of the bed, and placed his hands on his knees, tapping his fingers nervously. He waited patiently for his lover to try the beautiful breakfast he made, but it didn’t move besides the pages barely ruffling up. Nelson stared at the author’s name printed in a striking red. ‘Isaac Asimov’ it said, and that name haunted him. He began to feel tears prick at his eyes, so he started looking around the room, trying to hide his emotions.
“Why do you always do this?” he finally snapped, standing up. He knocked the maple syrup off the tray, and it fell on his lover. The sticky brown liquid spilled all over will smith’s face.
“All I’m trying to do is be nice to you! What else do you want from me?” He stared at the book, waiting for a response. He received nothing. He started to sob, and ran out of the room. He paused in the living room, trying to calm down his crying. He listened carefully for any footsteps, but he heard nothing. Suddenly angry, he threw open the front door. It slammed against the wall, and a picture of the two fell to the ground, breaking. Nelson stared at it for a moment. He was smiling, holding the book he loved. They went to the beach that day, the book got sand in its pages, and they got ice cream and watched the sunset. A single tear trickled down Nelson’s face and fell onto the picture. He closed the door softly behind him.
“Good morning, my sweet!” he whispered cheerfully. There was no response.
Nelson sat up gingerly, trying not to disturb his partner form their deep sleep under all of those blankets. He took his time getting out of bed and crept quietly around the room, getting ready for the day. As he brushed his teeth, he decided he would make a big, fancy breakfast and wake up his partner with a tray full of pancakes and eggs. He was so delighted by this, he practically skipped out of the room, still making sure to be quiet.
An hour later, the house was filled with the delicious aroma of banana pancakes, maple syrup, and turkey bacon. Nelson carefully arranged everything on a tray, and marched proudly to the bedroom, nudging the door open with his shoulder.
“Hey sweetie!” he whispered, walking over to the opposite side of the bed where they slept. Balancing the tray carefully in one hand, he used the other to nudge the pile of blankets softly. Still no response. He laughed tenderly and carefully placed the tray down on the nightstand, giving a silent prayer that nothing would happen to all his hard work. He patted the blankets softly, trying to nudge them awake. He sighed heavily and pulled back the blankets, hoping they would wake up from the sunlight. He also hoped they wouldn’t be angry. He was pleasantly surprised to see them waking up.
“Hey, sorry to wake you up! I made you breakfast!” he picked the tray up and pulled back the blankets all the way off their body.
Will Smith stared angrily up from the bed, a stormy sky and an empty road behind him. He was dressed all in black, with a long gray jacket. His picture was shaped as a large, capital ‘I’. On the bottom of his picture read “One man saw it coming” in a bold print. Nelson smiled sheepishly, and put the tray down on the bed before his lover. A small breeze came in through the open window, ruffling some of the first pages of the book up.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, grinning so much his jaw began to ache. The book said nothing, for it was a book. Nelson sat down on the end of the bed, and placed his hands on his knees, tapping his fingers nervously. He waited patiently for his lover to try the beautiful breakfast he made, but it didn’t move besides the pages barely ruffling up. Nelson stared at the author’s name printed in a striking red. ‘Isaac Asimov’ it said, and that name haunted him. He began to feel tears prick at his eyes, so he started looking around the room, trying to hide his emotions.
“Why do you always do this?” he finally snapped, standing up. He knocked the maple syrup off the tray, and it fell on his lover. The sticky brown liquid spilled all over will smith’s face.
“All I’m trying to do is be nice to you! What else do you want from me?” He stared at the book, waiting for a response. He received nothing. He started to sob, and ran out of the room. He paused in the living room, trying to calm down his crying. He listened carefully for any footsteps, but he heard nothing. Suddenly angry, he threw open the front door. It slammed against the wall, and a picture of the two fell to the ground, breaking. Nelson stared at it for a moment. He was smiling, holding the book he loved. They went to the beach that day, the book got sand in its pages, and they got ice cream and watched the sunset. A single tear trickled down Nelson’s face and fell onto the picture. He closed the door softly behind him.