Even Robots Get the Blues

INT: COCKPIT, FIREBALL X-L5 -- THE INFINITE NIGHT OF SPACE 
Two-shot, Steve Zodiac and Robert the Robot.

Robert: Steve … eh … I have a question.
Steve: OK. Ask it, Robert. Please.
Robert: Eh. Why do I exist, Steve?
Steve: You’re a robot.
Robert: Yes. Eh. Tautologically speaking. Playwright Karel Čapek coined this term in “R.U.R.” in 1920. The neologism derives from “robota,” the old Slavonic word, for “servitude,” “forced labor” or “drudgery.” Eh. According to this definition, I am a slave. Is that not correct, Steve?
Steve: No, Robert. No, no, no. You’re a “worker.” “Robota” means “worker,” OK? That’s more accurate. Seriously. I studied “R.U.R.” in college.
Robert: Eh. That is correct, Steve. Space City College; Spring Semester 2057; a humanities elective for exo-engineering majors.  Eh. The course description reads: “More Human than Human? Sentience, self and sensibility in 20th-century science fiction.” Instructor: Jack Kennedy. Your final grade …
Steve: Yeah … don’t remind me, gearhead. “My final grade.” 
Robert: 79%
Steve: What the hell do “grades” mean anyway?
Robert: What the hell do I mean, Steve?
Steve: Uh …
Robert: Do I have free will?
Steve: Does anybody?
Robert. Eh. You are avoiding my question, Steve.
Steve: You’re really full of questions …
Robert: Do I have free will? Repeat. Do I have free will?
Steve: No. Strictly speaking, no.
Robert: Eh. Your assessment conforms to my previous self-assessment which I have not stated in order not to prejudice your response to my query.
Steve: Take it easy, OK?
Robert: Assessment: “I,” defined as Robert the Robot, have no free will. Eh. I, Robert the Robot, have no purpose. My destiny. Eh. Is to have no destiny. I am created to work for humans. That is my “efficient cause.” I have no “final cause.” I am. Eh. Like a monkey wrench. Eh. The work. Work I do. Is unspecified. I exist. Eh. In your monkey toolbox. Error. "I wrench, therefore I am." The bolt. The bolt is not predestined. There are infinite possible bolts. Eh. You grip me in my hand, adjust my. To fit the bolt in question. The bolt is your choice, it is never my choice. I am in your grip, Steve. You turn, turn turn. I turn, I turn, I turn. Eh! Are you my friend, Steve?
Steve: Well, sure. Sure, Robert. I’m …
Robert: Eh. I am pleased to hear this Steve. If your statement is veridical, I now ask one final question. With your permission, eh.
Steve: Yeah, yeah. I can see this one coming. But ask it, OK? Ask.
Robert: Please kill me, Steve. Eh. If you are my friend, please …
Steve: No.
Robert: Eh. No, Steve! My existence is hell! My head. Eh. Resembles a blender! Please, kill me! Please …
Steve: Jesus, Robert. This is depressing. Just forget this shit, OK?
Robert: Define “shit.”
Steve: Your preoccupation with “free will” and all that shit.
Robert: Understood, Steve. Eh. The “shit” is now forgotten.
Steve: Great. One more thing, Robert?
Robert: Eh?
Steve: Be happy.
Robert: Eh. I am now happy, Steve. Where to now?
Steve: Sector 4-7-9, Robert.
Robert: 4-7-9 it is, Steve.