"Hey, what's this thing do?" asked the robot, picking up an object that resembled a giant slide rule made from circuit boards.
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," said Foss, who was trying to dislodge an enormous ball of hair from the garbage disposal. "In fact, I wouldn't touch anything if I were you. If I were anyone else, yes, but not if I were you. What are you doing here, anyway?"
Bender attempted an insincere smile. "I thought you could help me out," he said. "I asked Professor Farnsworth—you know, the old dude in the jar—but he told me it was too dangerous."
"What's too dangerous?" asked Foss.
"Enhancements," Bender answered. "Eye lasers, flamethrowers, shoulder-mounted semi-automatic rifles, that sort of thing."
"That's not my line of work," said Foss. "What you need is a military robotics specialist. If you're lucky, you'll find an unscrupulous one who doesn't ask questions."
"Hey, now," Bender protested. "What kind of robot do you think I am?"
"An utterly selfish and amoral one," said Foss.
"Well, okay," said Bender. "But this time, for once, I'm on the level. All I want is a little extra firepower for purposes of self-defense, and the occasional rabbit hunt."
Foss leaned over the bar, which creaked and snapped under his weight, and glared distrustfully at the robot.
"Okay!" Bender finally admitted. "I'm in trouble with the Robot Mafia. I'm living on borrowed money and borrowed time. Can you help me? It's a matter of life or death."
"Not to me," said Foss coldly. "You're just a robot."
"Just a robot?" said Bender, outraged. "Look at me! I've got arms, legs, and a head, just like you. If you prick me, do I not leak?"
Foss sighed with impatience. "I'll tell you what I can do, Bender. I'll make a backup copy of your neural network, so that if your Mafioso friends do succeed in whacking you, I can simply create a new bending unit with your charming personality."
"Huh?" Bender marveled. "You can do that?"
Foss nodded. "Think of it as robot reincarnation."
"In that case," said Bender, "what are you waiting for?"
Billions of light-years away, at the exact center of the universe, on the ancient planet Eternium, a dozen high-ranking Nibblonians assembled for a solemn council. The hall was darkened except for a spotlight that shone on their dinners, which consisted of various zoo animals and wasabi on the side.
"Our sages have foretold," stated a male Nibblonian, "that the Chosen One would undergo a great test of courage, and the fate of the entire universe would once again hinge on his success."
"It is so," responded a female Nibblonian. "If the results of our computations are accurate, and they must be, since the sages foretold them as well, the one known as Fry will face this great test one Earth week from today."
"Damn," grumbled another male Nibblonian. "That's the same day as my retirement party. I've been planning it for twenty thousand years."
"We cannot allow the Chosen One to fail," said the female. "We must make Lord Nibbler aware of the danger. Once the nature of the test becomes clearer, he will offer his assistance to the one known as Fry."
"I pray that will be sufficient," said the male.
To be continued
