Through the streets of Seattle we marched in perfect synchronicity with each other, a feat achievable only because we were robots. From the Interstellar Navy Base we headed towards the distant shuttle field where we would be taken up to join the 18th Expeditionary Fleet on its first voyage to Core-Star 33.
Not far in front of us were the fifteen thousand marching humans who were also Navy personnel, but volunteers. They had preceded us just minutes before and the thronging celebratory crowds were still throwing ticker tape and flowers to the brave sailors. Occasionally a civilian would run amongst the marching heroes to present one of them with either a garland of Victory-Flowers or a gift to comfort them on their long voyage.
Above us the midday sky glittered with the bright stars that were our waiting spacecraft readying for departure. We were ninety-four robots of varying designs marching four a breast, each with the grey letter ‘P’, denoting Penal Servitude, upon our left breast. We must have looked a sorry lot. I alone also had the red cross of the Medical Service on my right breast. We had all been naughty robots, possibly bad robots, but too costly to destroy.
Sending us on a nice trip in a spaceship was an ideal solution.