The Trouble with Robots

Emperor Julius has often spoken about his humans’ various attempts to put him on diets now and again–despite the fact that he has tirelessly tried to convince them that it is more becoming for an emperor to sport a bit of pudge rather than the alternative, unfortunately they seem to have fallen hook, line, and sinker for the mis-directions of the vet, and as such they continue to insist that he must lose a few pounds.

This struggle has been ongoing for a number of years now, and for a while, it seemed that Julius had begun to gain the upper paw. Despite initial periods of famine, he soon learned to act strategically, exploiting the humans at their weak points, namely their need for sleep. Much advantage could be gained, he found, by sneaky tactics intended to chip away at the humans’ early morning repose. Humans are particularly vulnerable in those few liminal hours around sunrise, and it is during this time that they seem to be particularly defensive of their sleep. A steadily increasing repertoire of annoyance–tapping paws, solicitous meows, aggressive headbutts–is often be enough to motivate acquiescence in them at this time of morning.

And for some time, this approach worked for Emperor Julius. He found that the humans often did not have the energy or the wherewithal to fight him on his protests, and he could contentedly expect some extra snacks in the morning or throughout the day when the humans did not feel like dealing with him screaming at them.

Then alas, overnight, he found his tactics no longer worked like they used to…

His humans had introduced the robot.

They were excited about it, so at first he assumed it must be a good thing. There was much flurry and activity around his food, kibble being measured and poured, calories counted, settings set up. The humans beamed with pride when they stepped away. He was left with a new companion alongside his water bowl, a shiny, tall metal robot-thing that they said would soon be his new best friend: Autofeeder. He felt a little fluttering of hope–maybe Autofeeder would join him and be a friend and supporter on his quest for increased rations.

But Autofeeder turned out to be nothing like Julius had imagined. He found his cries about famine now fell on deaf and uncaring metal ears. Autofeeder sat unperturbed and impervious on the counter, dispensing only as much food as the vet prescribed, not one kibble more. And now the humans did not seem even the slightest bit compassionate in the mornings, even in the wee hours when they used to be so malleable. They would just close their eyes and turn their backs to him, saying that Autofeeder would take care of him soon.

Such betrayal! Disappointment!

Now Emperor Julius is back to the drawing board, only this time with fewer tricks up his furry sleeves. He has yet to figure out how to manipulate the cold, battery-driven heart of Autofeeder. So far threats, supplication, and begging have failed to work, so he is going to have to think of something else.

One day, the robot will be his.

One day.