Tender firm apple slices drizzled with maple candied pecans were nestled on an almond sponge. Otto Franco looked at his gastrobot with radiant appreciation. It nodded solemnly with a perpetual grey smile. His fork sank into his childhood favorite. At that first taste of apple cake, Otto trembled slightly.

“Sir!” Charles shouted as he wrestled with Otto’s receptionist robot. “I have to talk to you urgently, sir.”

The buxom robot picked up the wriggling program manager. Otto nodded absently and took another bite. The receptionist deposited Charles in front of Otto’s grand oak desk.

“I am not to be disturbed,” Otto said without looking up from his dessert.

“There are problems in Paradise, Paradise Mine,” Charles said rubbing his sides.

Pinkie slightly extended, Otto sipped at his espresso. Confused, he shrugged.

“The ore mines in the Hera quad on Mars, your mines, sir. They are primarily equipped with android workers,” Charles explained slowly as if speaking to a dim witted child.

“Look, whatever your name is, I don’t deal with equipment or computers or doohickeys. It’s not my job to remember passwords. I am high level,” Otto said taping his Mont Blanc golden fountain to emphasize each word. “I don’t get my hands dirty every time a grey falls over.”

“218.”

“243 androids have been DBR’d, damaged beyond repair, in just the Paradise mine alone since it reopened as fully automated. This last accident we lost 78,” Charles said.

Otto set down his antique pen and returned to his fork. Silence settled among the thick area rug and primitive except for the scrape of heavy silverware on fine china.

“So is the profit margin narrowing and —“

“Strike. The android miners are on strike for a safer working environment, better safety training and equipment, and greater personal autonomy whatever that is. We’ve kept it off the news but the other mines are slowing down now. All the automated mines on Mars, the moon, even Saturn. We don’t know how they are coordinating. This morning the auto trains refused to cross the picket line to load ore. Freaking trains. Their representatives are requesting to negotiate with you and only you,” Charles said.

Otto began choking on his appelkuden. A giggle bounced around the palatial corner office. The humans stiffened in surprise. In the corner the gastrobot roared with laughter.