A cavernous workshop. Android husks litter the floor.A ROBOTIC BARTENDER stands behind a bar. JOSS PILES, bald head gleaming, conducts a test.

J0SS
I'll take one Mechanized Manhattan.

The Drinkslinger moves with jerky precision, mixing up a perfect cocktail. Hands it to his creator.

Joss takes a sip. Nods approval. He peers around to make sure no one is listening.
JOSS
Make me a Robot Smash.

The Drinkslinger picks up a glass, reaches for a bottle or rye and freezes. Lights on its face blink frantic patterns.

DRINKSLINGER 3000
Would you like that neat or on the rocks?
JOSS
Rocks, of course.

The Drinkslinger raises its steel fists in the air, smashes the bar into splinters. Lasers shoot from its eyes, glass shatters, sparks fly.

JOSS
(menacingly with evil pleasure)
Good, Robot. Very good.

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