"Good news, everyone!"

Fry made a squeamish face at the sight of the withered head in a jar that was talking to him. It had been a month since Professor Farnsworth's elective head-preservation surgery, but the members of the Planet Express team still found it hard to look at him in his new form.

"Excuse me, Professor," Leela chimed in, "but before we listen to your good news, I'd really like to share some very bad news."

"Oh, we're all aware of that," said Professor Farnsworth's head in a carefree tone.

Leela glanced around the conference table at her crewmates Fry, Bender, Amy, Zoidberg, and Hermes, all of whom responded with nods of sympathy.

The professor could no longer nod, but the twinkle in his bespectacled eyes made his concern clear. "Every one of us here will miss you greatly, Leela," he said comfortingly.

"You're a wonderful teammate, mon," added Hermes. "You always bring the ship back in one piece. You never take office supplies home with you." Bender belched, and a spray of paper clips flew from his mouth. "The inspectors from the Department of Commerce never ask me probing questions about you. But you mean something more to us than all that, Leela."

"You're the best friend anyone could hope for," said Amy.

"I'll miss you, I will," blubbered Zoidberg.

Leela smiled wistfully as the gathered friends complimented her. "Thank you, thank you," she said in a whisper.

Fry gazed earnestly at the one-eyed girl. "I may never get another chance to tell you this," he said, choked by anxiety. "I…I…"

Leela's eyelid fluttered as she waited patiently and longingly for his words.

"I was the one who left the seat up all the time," Fry told her. "It wasn't Bender."

The silver robot nudged Fry with his flexible elbow. "Thanks for coverin', pal," he muttered.

"What's the good news, professor?" asked Amy.

Farnsworth's head grinned. "We found a new pilot to replace Leela."

Everyone at the table gasped.

"A replacement?" said Leela indignantly. "Don't you think you're acting a bit prematurely?"

"Oh my, no," said the professor. "When a pilot like Delta becomes available for hire, one doesn't hesitate."

"She's got everything we're looking for," added Hermes. "She can handle a joystick, and she has no felonies on her record."

"But I haven't quit yet!" said Leela, gesticulating urgently. While her arm was raised, Zoidberg took the opportunity to wipe his nose on her brown wristband.

"Not a problem," said Farnsworth's head. "Delta has agreed to perform chores and errands until she officially takes your place."

"Chores and errands?" said Leela in disbelief. "What kind of person is this Delta?"

"She's not a person," said the professor. "She's a robot." Glancing toward the conference room doorway, he intoned, "You can come in now, Delta."

All eyes turned to the entrance, where a full-bosomed, chrome-plated automaton was taking mincing steps on tiny, wedge-shaped feet. The fembot wore a plain blue dress that reached down as far as her knee joints, and her copper-wire hair was bobbed at the ears. Her mouth was fixed in an oblivious cherry smile, and her eyes displayed even less emotion than the average robot.

Coming to a halt three steps from the table, she stated in a schoolmarm-sweet voice, "Greetings. My name is Delta. I await your command."

All the Planet Express associates stared speechlessly at the newcomer—except for Bender, who couldn't help but exclaim, "Hubba hubba hubba!"

"Control yourself, Bender," Amy chided the quivering robot.

"Oh, mama!" babbled Bender as his cybernetic heart hammered against his metal chest. "That dame's really built! Look at the size of those Volkswagens! Humina humina humina…"

"If you think my breasts are too large, I can adjust them," said Delta in a complacent tone.

"Uh, professor?" said Leela. "Are you sure she's really qualified to fly the Planet Express ship? She seems a bit…servile."

"That's to be expected," said Farnsworth's head. "Delta was constructed by a famous roboticist to be the perfect female companion."

"Perfect?" said Leela, her incredulity building.

"Before you judge her," said the professor, "listen to her story. It's very entertaining."

Those present who had ears listened intently. "My creator, Professor Djikstra, programmed me with three fundamental laws: 1. I may not harm Professor Djikstra, or, through inaction, allow Professor Djikstra to come to harm. 2. I must obey the orders given to me by Professor Djikstra, unless such orders conflict with the First Law. 3. I must protect my own existence, unless such protection conflicts with the First or Second Laws."

Fry's hand shot up. "Hold on a minute. Those are Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, only with you in place of robots, and Professor Jockstrap in place of humans."

"Affirmative," beamed Delta.

Leela slapped her forehead. "That's revolting!" she complained. "You were brought into existence for no purpose but to act as a love slave for some horny roboticist!"

"It gets worse," Farnsworth told her. "Professor Djikstra was a lesbian."

"I take it as a personal insult that you would choose such a worthless piece of machinery as my replacement," said Leela with a scowl that could peel paint.

Undaunted, Delta continued her tale. "387 days after my creation, Professor Djikstra was killed in a lab explosion. Having no purpose left, I decided to travel the world in search of one. I was a passenger on an airliner when the steward informed us that the auto-pilot had committed suicide. As I was the only robot on board, he asked me if I could fly the plane and land it safely, and I did so. I took it as a sign that my calling was to be a pilot. Since that day 64 years ago, I've flown everything imaginable—passenger jets, military transports, even a magic carpet."

"You haven't flown me, baby," said Bender, pumping his iron fists.

"I interpret your words and gestures as an indication that you want to have sex," said Delta, her tone of voice still coldly soothing. "Am I correct?"

"You bet your sweet bazooms," said Bender. "Uh, you are properly equipped, right?"

"Affirmative," said Delta. "I am programmed to administer nineteen different forms of erotic stimulation."

"Good," said Bender with a hint of embarrassment. "Is it a problem that I'm not equipped?"

"Not at all."

Fry grabbed his robot buddy by the arm. "Bender," he whispered hoarsely, "if you have even a shred of decency…"

He quickly realized that he had nothing in his hands but Bender's detached arm.

To be continued