She advanced the slide. A schematic exploded into view: a hexapod the size of a child’s fist, its thorax a translucent bioreactor, its legs lined with microscopic barbs.
“Welcome to ‘Robotics for a Dying World,’” she began, her voice dry as chalk dust. “Or, as the registrar calls it, Course 6.841.” robotics lectures
And somewhere in the fungal mycelium of Tatterdemalion’s brain, a slow, green thought began to grow. She advanced the slide