"You're in there somewhere, sleeping, maybe trapped, maybe just waiting for that spark to return, that anima," Walcott said, tapping lightly on the 'head' casing with a dirty fingertip. The robot never answered, no matter how many leads he replaced or contacts he cleaned or parts he replaced.
"You worked once, I know you did: I've read your logfile," he observed, sighing, and sat back in his chair. The unit had been a loader at Quito, then lifted to the Moon and then Europa, nearly a hundred years of labor all across the system before eventually failing.
"Where'd you go?"