You know which two actors really need to meet and share similar stories about their totally gay characters that were forced into a straight relationship for whatever reason while having this big ass crush on the male protagonist, and how much they tried to convince the writers to at least let their characters kiss the male protagonist but nothing ever came out of it?
the robots did not look up for a long time. They toiled in the fields or spun in the cities or hummed along empty roads. They held the earth like a newborn calf in their hands, fragile and stumbling, and their steady, metal fingers were ready to clamp it up and carry it to the mother for milk, or break its neck if it proved too weak. When the Angel came to end the world, the robots didn’t notice; it had ended in fire twice over already.
The Angel came to a field of wheat. It was several thousand acres, far and away over the horizon; wheat and wheat filled the eye, and nothing touched the stalks but the wind. Somewhere in the center of the field was a single robot, its tarnished body bent over, checking the furrows for weeds and pulling them up if it found any. It put the weeds into a hole in its stomach, where there was a small glow, a rush of fire, and the invasive plant was incinerated.
The Angel came before the robot and spoke:
“Do not be afraid.”
Hearing a voice when it thought it was alone, the robot lifted its head, gears whirring quietly behind its visual processors. It looked up at the celestial being floating above the ground, robed in white, wings beating the air, yet creating no wind, as the stalks of wheat remained still. The robot studied the wheat, then turned again to the Angel.
“Are you a human?” Its voice was thin with disuse, and it coughed and spluttered, and tried again. “Are you a master?”