The robot fell from the sky on a Tuesday, which is to say it fell from the space elevator, which is practically the same thing in New York.
I was on Level 7 of the elevator shaft, doing my usual pre-shift inspection—checking cable tension, examining the carbon-nano weave for microfractures, making a note of three minor abrasions on the north-facing panel that I'd report to Sarah when she came on shift the next morning. Standard stuff. Boring stuff. The kind of work that keeps a man employed for twenty-three years and four months....
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