The next morning Ben woke up with a big grin. Today history would be made. Or rather: math.
He solemnly placed his math notebook on the desk. “XR-3000,” he said proudly, “time to show what you can do.”
The robot rolled over. Its eyes glowed blue. Its antennas buzzed.
“Homework detected,” beeped XR-3000. “Paper size: A4. Scent note: faintly of eraser.”
“Don’t smell! Calculate!” corrected Ben.
XR-3000 opened its big mouth slit.
“Wait…” said Ben slowly.
Too late.
SLURP.
The entire math notebook disappeared into the robot.
A satisfied chewing sound was heard.
“XR-3000!” Ben shouted in horror. “You’re supposed to solve it, not eat it!”
The robot blinked friendly. “Homework successfully processed.”
“Processed does NOT mean digested!”
XR-3000 made a small burp noise. A sheet of paper fluttered back out the rear.
On it was written: 7 + 5 = very tasty
Ben stared at the paper.
“That’s not a solution!”
“Error analysis,” said the robot. “Math problems contain numbers. Numbers contain energy. Energy must be absorbed.”
“You’re not a calculator. You’re a vacuum cleaner!”
XR-3000 thought for a moment. “Vacuum cleaners are also very useful.”
At that moment Ben heard his mother call: “Ben! Did you do your homework?”
Ben looked at the robot. The robot looked at Ben.
“Technically speaking,” whispered XR-3000, “they are no longer here.”
Ben swallowed. It was only day one.
And his robot was already hungry.