I began to dread that earnest look on the robot's holoface. It always had "just a simple question about this human aspect" that would invariably involve having to explain the English language's habit of stealing words and the influence that had on Chiglish, or the origins of the Internet and the concepts of cats, cheeseburgers, and cryptocurrency. But I had to humor it, or else I'd get my lease removed from the station, as the sole human here on the Galactic-.
"Mz. Monet, do you understand this message, 'Cover Blown Order 66'?"
I sighed and flipped the explosives ignition button.
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