#signed edison

Nanobots, I’m full.

[Coomer stands right in the path of the core. Luckily, it stops just in front of him. Unluckily, it starts to wield its instruments in a more threatening fashion. It has knives now. And a culinary blow torch. Its eye narrows.]

An entry called 'how to kill someone with your bare hands'.

Asphyxia is a condition of severe lack of oxygen supplied to the body. In the absence of remedial action it will very rapidly lead to unconsciousness and death. Asphyxia is the same as suffocation and anoxia. Asphyxiation is the act of causing asphyxia, usually by suffocation.

Asphyxia in humans is a medical emergency.

...

[The various implements retract into the core. There is a loud CLUNK as it detaches from the management rail, dropping into Coomer’s arms. It seems it’s been pacified, though it continues to repeat its strange cake recipe in a quiet, monotone voice. Its eye rolls around lazily.]

ᵀʷᵒ ᶜᵘᵖˢ ʳʰᵘᵇᵃʳᵇ, ˢˡᶦᶜᵉᵈ. ᵀʷᵒ ˢˡᵃˢʰ ᵗʰʳᵉᵉ ᶜᵘᵖˢ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵘˡᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʳʰᵘᵇᵃʳᵇ. ᴼⁿᵉ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉˢᵖᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ᵖᵘʳᵖᵒˢᵉ ʳʰᵘᵇᵃʳᵇ...

Bubnick, I’ve made a friend!

“Fine, so long as you don’t touch anything. Unless you want to vaporize the potatoes, or something, I don’t know what B installed on you.” The door to the kitchen creaks open, inviting you in. 

As you enter, the first thing you notice is the pile of crates of potatoes. The second thing you notice is the other pile of potatoes. When you finally manage to see beyond the potatoes, you notice what Your database deems a pretty typical commercial kitchen. It seems somewhat in disarray, but no more than you would expect after a lunch rush. 

Equipped with a spray bottle and cloth, a young man in a chef’s outfit is stepping over the potatoes, doing his best to clean up. You pull up information on him using Your facial recognition and database...

Sounds kind of like one, but...

[Bubnick picks up the core, tilting it this way and that. The logic core shifts in his hands, moving its eye and various chassis pieces to one side to let Bubnick reach into the gearwork in its side.]

[Bubnick pulls out a... potato?]

Po-ta-to!

[The logic core freezes, staring into the middle distance. He strings together one word from various sound bytes in his pre-programmed recipe.]

Po-ta-to?