I was sitting in my office on the third floor, going over my reviews for the next week’s papers, when my phone rang. “Yes?”

“I wanted to talk about the review you gave the latest James Bond movie,” a voice said. It sounded like one of the villains from that movie. An actor calling up to beef about a bad review? Well, I’d had that happen before.

“I stand by what I said. The whole idea of James Bond going up against transforming robots is utterly ridiculous,” I said. “Are the Broccolis so desperate for new ideas that they mine a fifty-year-old kiddie show?” The villain had been one of those robots, in fact.

“We like to think of it as being on the cutting edge of global events, actually,” the voice continued. “Not our fault if some people find it hard to believe.”

“And honestly, the special effects were ridiculous.”

That was when the window behind me slid aside. I turned and stared at the metal finger that had pushed it open—and the giant robot it was attached to. “Oh, really?” it said in the same voice.