“You are the worst of my children,” the old woman whispered lovingly.
The robot stroked her hair, his hand a clever combination of sensors, mechanical nerve paths and organic muscles. If there was a difference, it was for the better.
”I worry about you,” she continued, “I´m soon gone and you…”
“No one touches me!” His confident sunbeam-smile in place.
”Not my point. What will happen when you… die? You have done bad things. If there’s a God and a Judgment Day…”
“Then reset me. I trust you.”
“I could, but I won´t… You are the best of my children.”