They tell us not to call it “him.” It is an “it.” But when it looks at us through that thick showroom glass, we want to take it right home, give it one of dad’s sweaters, ask it how its day was. Does it see us? we ask and the technicians just look at each other like, these bourgeois assholes think it’s a puppy. It looks like it’s smiling, we say, and a technician pushes a button that shuts it down. All of them just hang there, bowing low and limp, but we swear the one we like is moving.
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Title by: Peter Keller
Story by: Nick
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