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"Do robots feel love?" she said. // The robot's mouth moved. Perhaps, it was meant as a smile. "We feel nothing but love," the robot said.

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— Lavie Tidhar, Under the Eaves

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On the green, robotniks huddled together around a makeshift fire in an upturned drum. Flames reflected in their faces, metal and human mixed artlessly, the still-living debris of long-gone wars. They spoke amidst themselves in that curious Battle Yiddish that had been imprinted on them by some well-meaning army developer—a hushed and secret language no one spoke any more, ensuring their communications would be secure, like the Navajo Code Talkers in the second world war.

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