Cupid's Avatar

Sitting in the glass walled dining room that straddled Rex’s quarters and the rest of the Moon’s automated facilities, he and Todd sat together for the first time in months. Outside hung a diamond studded tapestry of black. Their meal’s chandelier in the sky, Ninety-First Earth, hung like an enormous ceramic sculpture.

“Remember when we used to eat dinners here together?” Rex asked as the attending universal set a steaming plate before him.

The featureless butler’s grace always fascinated him. With perfect balance the steel strong automaton carried three dishes to the table. The aromas, sweet carrots, bitter broccoli, and seared steak; the bouquet tickled a dozen memories.

“I remember,” Todd answered flatly. “In those days I wore your father’s face and disguised my restoratives to mimic your meal.”