Rafael Nadal focused his visual apparatus on his reflection. He certainly appeared to be well within specifications tonight, he decided with satisfaction as he carefully arranged his cranial-covering follicles into the casually messy style People magazine described as "adorable". (Robots magazine would have described it as 101011100011000111001110010101110001000001, or, "an unnecessary affectation", but he was programmed to sue anyone who dared suggest he wasn't actually human). He dressed quickly, and was sitting watching a tape of his latest match against Roger Federer, synthesizing a happy tune to himself, when the doorbell rang.
He opened the door and felt a smile spread across his face as the servos in his lips spontaneously operated.
"Hello. Roger," he said. "You're. Early.
"Sorry," Roger said. "If you're not ready –"
"No. Problem.
The servos in his lips were working overtime, he thought. He hoped his facial expressions software package wasn't buggy. It was just the visual stimulus Roger was providing, he decided. He definitely was well within his specifications. Roger smiled at him again, and he felt an emotional subroutine kick in.
"One. Moment."
He went back into his bedroom, and rummaged in a drawer, taking out a shrink-wrapped box. Why hadn't he got this ready before? His memory must be full. It was the work of moments to fit the new hardware, and download the upgraded program. He fastened his trousers again and walked out, smiling at the sensations.
Like most upgrades it took up significantly more room, but he was sure the speed and ease of operation would be worth it.
Now with closed HTML tags, *facepalm*
Ahem.
* * *
Rafael Nadal focused his visual apparatus on his reflection. He certainly appeared to be well within specifications tonight, he decided with satisfaction as he carefully arranged his cranial-covering follicles into the casually messy style People magazine described as "adorable". (Robots magazine would have described it as 101011100011000111001110010101110001000001, or, "an unnecessary affectation", but he was programmed to sue anyone who dared suggest he wasn't actually human). He dressed quickly, and was sitting watching a tape of his latest match against Roger Federer, synthesizing a happy tune to himself, when the doorbell rang.
He opened the door and felt a smile spread across his face as the servos in his lips spontaneously operated.
"Hello. Roger," he said. "You're. Early.
"Sorry," Roger said. "If you're not ready –"
"No. Problem.
The servos in his lips were working overtime, he thought. He hoped his facial expressions software package wasn't buggy. It was just the visual stimulus Roger was providing, he decided. He definitely was well within his specifications. Roger smiled at him again, and he felt an emotional subroutine kick in.
"One. Moment."
He went back into his bedroom, and rummaged in a drawer, taking out a shrink-wrapped box. Why hadn't he got this ready before? His memory must be full. It was the work of moments to fit the new hardware, and download the upgraded program. He fastened his trousers again and walked out, smiling at the sensations.
Like most upgrades it took up significantly more room, but he was sure the speed and ease of operation would be worth it.