George absentmindedly listened for the sound of sirens as he walked to Marly’s yard. He was not surprised when firetrucks failed to materialize. During robot uprisings local services tend to be overwhelmed.

As his passed through the gate, he saw Marly disappear into his garage. A garage, George thought wryly, so unlike his own, disturbingly free of smoke and flames.

George entered through the side door but stopped on the threshold to allow his eyes time to adjust to the interior darkness.

“George, over here,” hissed Marly.

“Stop whispering,” he scolded.

After a few moments, he began to discern the dim outline of his neighbor in the darkness – his slender silhouette illuminated from behind by a ghastly, pale, green gleam. George moved forward, suddenly very curious as to what might be the source of the strange faerie light.

On a table in the back of the garage, a small metallic box was emanating a phosphorescent glow. Both men stood staring down at it, utterly transfixed.

“What is it?” whispered George.