“I’m not sure,” said Marly with something of a hoarse, crackling whisper. “It started glowing right around the time that the rebellion started, near as I can tell.”

George looked at his neighbor, his angled cheeks and aquiline features casting sharp shadows up onto his furrowed brow.

“Marly,” he asked quietly, “did you start the robot uprising?”

He gulped.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he gasped. “Maybe I started it, but I have a funny feeling that this box can end it.”

They stood together, side by side, in its luminous presence, pondering events, futures, and giant robots. Something about the device just exuded quiet, as if it was impossible to raise your voice in its presence.

Obviously, no one had informed the giant robots of this phenomenon, for while they were ruminating, one planted his foot in Marly’s house and ripped the roof off of his garage.

George and Marly simultaneously made a grab for the box and sprinted down the driveway, George feeling a smug satisfaction at the condition of the property.