The Almighty Z yawned lazily as she sat up, morning light filtering through the gap between her deep, black curtains into the dimly lit room. Her blonde hair fell into her eyes, and she pushed it out of the way.
“ZOK,” she called, “C’mere.” The robot stopped lasering down geese passerby out the window and sauntered over to Z’s bed on spindly (yet not yet proven to not be indestructible) legs.
“Z, ZOK,” she sighed, “just call me Z.”
“That is not what I advise, Almighty Z.” ZOK replied instantly. Z sighed. Despite his superior analytic capacities and advanced judgement programs that take into account logic, morals, emotions, probability, and the likelihood of failure, (among many other factors) when faced with an option, decision, question, or request, ZOK could be incredibly frustrating sometimes.
“Oh, yeah? Why not?” challenged Z.
“Careful analysis of the past reactions of the Almighty Z to being called anything but her given title indicates that the perpetrator has a fifty-three point eight four six one five four percent chance of being maimed, ruptured, insulted, dismantled, or turned to stone. I do not wish to take this chance, Almighty Z.” At this, Zee smirked lightly, as if she was feeling nostalgic about good old times.
“ZOK, when calculating that statistic, did you include the beings that had my permission or request to address me in the way that they did?” ZOK tilted his boxy head and thought.
“Yes, Almighty Z.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Recalculate.” ZOK tilted his head and obliged.
“Careful analysis of the past reactions of the Almighty Z to being called anything but her given title indicates that the perpetrator has a fifty-three point eight four six-”
“Okay, okay,” Z cut him off. “I get it, seven in thirteen people who call me by anything but ‘Almighty Z’ get injured.”
“maimed, ruptured, insulted, dismantled, or-”
“-turned to stone. Yes, ZOK, I got it.”
“Yes, Almighty Z. What is the nature of your request?”
“You asked that I ‘’C’mere’” The contraction sounded ridiculous in ZOK’s speech..
“Oh, yes.” The Almighty Z hung over the side of her bed, reached behind the soft black edges of her blankets hanging down the side, and retrieved a haphazard stack of papers from underneath. “Send out these memos through the appropriate circuits immediately, and arrange the meetings specified.”
“Yes, Almighty Z.” He began to march out of the darkly-colored room, but Z stopped him.
“Oh, and ZOK?”
“Tell the planet metamorphosis drones that today’s an ominously rainy day. All this sunlight is giving me a headache. Also, have them extend the atmosphere around the whole planet- we may have visitors.” ZOK gave a sharp nod and marched.