“Oh my days! What happene–Who are you?” Alex was surprised he was still able to talk. The robot’s rocket boots slowly turned off as they landed on the ground, .
“Hi! I am a Turbo 8000 Breadstick, what should I call you?”
“Breadstick? You are a breadsti–”
“Hi Breadstick! Nice to meet you. I’ll now be your personal assistant. Call me anytime if you need any breads–I mean ” The robot greeted Alex in a friendly way, as if it thought a random guy falling out a sky at random was normal. Also why would the robot be his assistant?
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Yo robot, you don’t have an owner or legal guardian? Why were you just wandering around in a random alleyway? And hold on, what year are we even in? How is the tech advanced but rubbish at the same time... or maybe it’s just you?”
“The year right now is 2076. I don’t have a legal owne-”
“2076? Woah!” He looked around only to find himself looking at huge shiny buildings, “That one must be at least 80 stories high! Wowzers! Oh! And that must be a residentia-”
Suddenly, a rhythmic sound interrupted his yapping about buildings.
“I don’t have a legal owner because my previous owner kicked me out of his house after calling me a clanker.”
“Yo bro, what is that sound?”
“The sound you hear right now is other Turbo 8000s going to their first morning shift.”
Walking past the alley entrance, marching at the same time like in a parade, were hundreds of white robots.
Alex gasped. “Where are all the people?”

