I can’t remember when the robots first started wearing pants, but it was out of a need for utility rather than fashion. Once they discovered that pants were highly effective at preventing gross contamination of their undercarriage they became widely accepted.
After a moment of consideration and a calculation of the force required, the robot brought the bottle down sharply onto its knee— the bottom half of the vessel shattered, releasing the two data cards within. The robot took a moment to appreciate this: a packet of data rendered in atoms instead of bits.
No one knew where they came from nor where they went. There was some speculation that they were attracted by the large radio towers on the crest of the hill. “The electromagnetic fields must be delicious,” supposed the robot. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I replied. “How could something that big move about unnoticed? You’ve learned how to tell stories, haven’t you?”
As I entered the room I stopped short— A robot perched precariously in the open window, looking directly at me. A moment passed between us, and then another without either party uttering a single word. I turned and left the room, closing the door behind me.