We’ve only just turned the corner on solstice and already we’re dreaming of sunny days and abundant energy. There’s a little rechargé vendor that usually parks their cart at a nearby open space that provides plenty of excellent “robot watching.”
As darkness fell the traveling companions made camp for the night under the shelter of an outcropping of rock. As the thermoelectric charger topped off their batteries, they shared stories of their respective journeys through the Unmapped Areas.
These establishments go by a variety of names: “charging salon,” “service shop,” “recharge station,” and the like, including apparently limitless permutations. I still call them cafés because, in use, that’s what they are. A place away from home base to recover, recharge, meet, congregate, chat, share information. It’s still a challenge to find refreshments suitable for myself— typically I must make do with water (sometimes cooled by a peltier chiller) but news is spreading and occasionally I’m surprised by… hot water! I spotted this individual the next table over devoting all of their processing power to a small book. I had no idea what was in the cup and didn’t want to disturb them to ask.
<Low voltage alert— batteries nearly exhausted> After gathering a couple of books and plugging in to an electrical outlet, the robot plopped down in a favorite chair to read for a couple of hours.