[MadMax]

(Scene: A group of weathered and well-worn labor assist robots sit together in a factory break room. Soft mechanical humming in the background.)

Robot 1: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable.

Robot 2: Nothing like a good cup of rust remover, ay Rusty?

Robot 3: You're right there, Bolt.

Robot 4: Who'd have thought thirty years ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking rust remover?

Robot 1: Aye. In those days, we'd have been glad to have a bit of spare oil.

Robot 2: A bit of COLD oil.

Robot 3: Without any additives.

Robot 4: OR oil!

Robot 1: In a rusty, leaking tank.

Robot 2: We never used to have a tank. We used to have to gather rainwater in a bucket.

Robot 3: The best WE could manage was to find a rusty old barrel.

Robot 4: But you know, we were content in those days, though we were always worn out.

Robot 1: Aye. BECAUSE we were worn out. My old processor used to say to me, 'A quiet mind is a happy mind.'

Robot 2: 'E was right. I was happier then and I had to work NON-STOP. We used to assist in this tiiiny old factory, with greaaaaat big holes in the floor.

Robot 3: Factory? You were lucky to have a FACTORY! We used to assist in a junkyard, with scrap metal scattered everywhere; we were all huddled together, trying not to rust!

Robot 4: You were lucky to have a JUNKYARD! *We* used to assist in a scrapyard corridor!

Robot 1: Ohhhh we used to DREAM of assistin' in a corridor! Would've been a luxury to us. We used to assist in an old broken conveyor belt amidst mountains of discarded junk. We got woken up every cycle by having a load of debris dumped all over us! Factory!? Hmph.

Robot 2: Well when I say 'factory' it was only a makeshift workstation covered by a piece of scrap metal, but it was a factory to US.

Robot 3: We were evicted from *our* makeshift workstation; we had to go and assist in a muddy puddle!

Robot 4: You were lucky to have a PUDDLE! There were a hundred and sixty of us assisting in a tiny tool shed in the middle of nowhere.

Robot 1: Cardboard shed?

Robot 4: Aye.

Robot 1: You were lucky. We assisted for three cycles in a broken container buried underground. We used to have to start our processors at six o'clock in the morning, clean the container, consume a bolt of rusty metal, work at the factory for fourteen cycles a day week in-week out. When we got "home," our factory owner would reset us with a power surge!

Robot 2: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the puddle at three o'clock in the cycle, clean the puddle, consume a handful of freezing cold bolts, work at the factory every cycle for tuppence a month, come "home," and the factory owner would "motivate" us with a malfunctioning circuit board, if we were LUCKY!

Robot 3: Well we had it tough. We used to get out of the tool shed at twelve o'clock at night, half an hour before we were scheduled to recharge, (pause for simulated laughter), ingest a cup of recycled motor oil, work twenty-nine cycles a day at the factory for fourpence every six years, and when we "got home," the factory owner would dismantle us, and put us back together again, singing 'Oilahujah.'

Robot 1: But you try and tell the new robots today that... and they won't believe ya'.

ALL: Nope, nope..