The robot steps out on me and attends the Robot Ball. He dances with other robots. They all wear too much taffeta, not understanding the idea of “formal wear” possess too much frill. The waltz though is effortless and without mistake. There are some rust issues and WD- 40 is passed around on a platter. There is no inappropriate groping behind velvet curtains.
The mapped footprints in the ball room are treaded upon up and down and side to side and a to b to c to d and back to a again and it is a math dream on a cloud of all the steps hitting the right tone and the right note and it is a night to end all nights of robot pomp and circumstance.