"1-7-3-4-6-7-3-2-1-4-7-6-C-3-2-­7-8-9-7-7-7-6-4-3-T-7-3-2-V-7-­3-1-1-7-8-8-8-7-3-2-4-7-6-7-8-­9-7-6-4-3-7-6-LOCK"

"1-7-3-4-6-7-3-2-1-4-7-6-C-3-2-­7-8-9-7-7-7-6-4-3-T-7-3-2-V-7-­3-1-1-7-8-8-8-7-3-2-4-7-6-7-8-­9-7-6-4-3-7-6-LOCK"

Heeeeeyyy...gimme 5, man! But Robo wouldn't. He was programmed to not recognize fives. He stood there awkwardly, peering at Steve, wondering why he stood there with one arm up

and a dorky smile. Robo had failed the Turing Test and Steve was just expecting too much from him. It was too much pressure for Robo as his circuits overheated his head

started to smoke, which set off the sprinklers, which well, Robo got water in his circuits. Steve abandoned the burned up, rusted robot. 2000 years later a light appeared in the sk

bodies were strewn across the wasteland as far as the eye could smell. No wait...as far as the nose could hear? No...what's...uh oh. Steve hadn't drank paint thinner after all;

Steve had inhaled too much Citadel Miniature Paints. He face planted in the tableau of Warhammer Space Marines 40,000. Splotches of Drakenhof Nightshade and Ungor Flesh covered his

dictionary, so he couldn't even comprehend the words that were describing this moment in time. Steve walked away from the painting, choking on the fumes he had breathed in.

"Hey buddy, look at the 'No Smoking' sign!" Steve yelled at the violator, who looked to be a pauper. Baggy clothes, unbathed, uncut hair, and smelt of rotten eggs.

The pauper looked at the no smoking sign and back at Steve. He didn't seem to comprehend. Perhaps he couldn't read. He left anyway and Steve sighed a sigh of relief.