I agree that it's not an immediately inspiring assignment. This is all I've come up with:
‘He’s very listless today, poor redundant thing,’ she told me, as we stared through bars at the last man on Earth. ‘Won’t even read his nasty porn mags or watch his Jeremy Clarkson DVDs. Perhaps I’ll send you in to him with a unit of alcohol. He likes that.’
I stood ready to serve, obedient as a robot should be.
‘But we mustn’t feel sorry for him,’ she said firmly. ‘He looks harmless now, but watch him when he’s been drinking. He’ll probably get very sexist and offensive. Then it’ll be obvious how wise we females were to get rid of these brutes and rely on cloning. So much more reliable, so much less messy. And when this one goes, nobody can ever dispute women’s right to rule the planet!’
At which I allowed myself a small metallic chuckle. We robots have plans.
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