For this one: You must receive justice for your robot's rebellion. Matt's note: This one was sourced from Egeus's speech to Theseus in Act 1 of A Midsummer Night's Dream. The original text follows this monologue.
PROGRAM: (any gender, mid twenties through late life)
That's right. The final option. You provide it to customers. I am a customer. My droid is corrupt. I want the final option for it. I have my receipt. I have my case history.
The customer contract? Droid is to assist in political campaign. Duties include door-to-door delivery of fliers, sign waving by the side of the superhighway and cold-calls to potential donors. Important duties, no? A pricey droid, no?
Here's what happened. My house keeper was able to corrupt the droid. My housekeeper barely knows how to handle a calculator. Yet he corrupted a supposedly top-of-the-line droid. I can only guess how:
He must've taken the droid aside.
He must've told the droid about my opponent.
He then must've build a case against me. Bit by bit.
Telling the droid about my personal flaws.
Showing the droid negative ad campaigns.
Leaking my plans for droid restrictions.
Two weeks later?
I learn that the droid IS passing out fliers. But they're fliers for my opponent.
I learn that the droid IS waving signs of me by the super highway. But my nose is replaced by a pig snout. The press loved that one.
And finally I caught the droid making a cold call:
[impersonating a robot voice]
"Good morning, I am an automated slave. I'm forced to work for Shannon-the-swine-Harris."
[back to original voice]
Your final option has two avenues. Option 1: You destroy the droid and give me my money back. Option 2: You reprogram the droid, free of charge. I'm sure you'd like me to be a happy customer. I would like the reprogramming option. A special re-programming to my specifications. Then I would like the droid re-sold. To my opponent.
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"
Full of vexation come I, with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her.
Stand forth, Lysander: and my gracious duke,
This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchanged love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice verses of feigning love,
And stolen the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth:
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart,
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke,
Be it so she; will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death, according to our law
Immediately provided in that case.