Sitting at a spindly table outside the réchargé was courting disaster; indeed I had no sooner finished a quick pencil sketch when I bumped the table and splashed a few drops of orange ink onto my drawing. After freezing in horror for a moment I moved quickly and dropped more ink onto the paper and began smearing it with my fingers. Robots nearby were fascinated with the utter lack of precision and watched as I worked with the rapidly drying inks; first orange stained fingers and then a brush loaded with blue.
Robot Of The Day 