As a general rule people do not notice a droid on Coruscant. Droids are ubiquitous: fetching, carrying, yessing and noing, toing and froing. To notice a droid on Coruscant- to mark its existence particularly- is as likely an occurrence as noticing a leaf in a forest. A leaf or relentlessly urban Coruscant on the otherhand…
The leaf fluttered down from the tree. It was the first to fall. The Master, in quiet defiance of fashion, liked to allow nature to progress as it was intended. The entire climate of the planet might be regulated but here, here in The Garden, here the seasons came and the seasons went as much as was possible.
Gree’s nimble fingers snatched the leaf from the air, mere centimetres above the neatly mown lawn. Had he been able to smile, he would have done so. Not that he wanted to smile. Gree did not have emotions and he did not, therefore, have any need of such facial expressions.
What he did express was an instruction, “Lower the temperature zero point zero zero two degrees every hour for the next three days. Stabilise at that point.”
A vocorder was sufficient means for any droid to express himself. It was clear that this was so for the droid tasked with climate control in The Garden flashed its acknowledgement.
Gree turned and walked out of The Garden and into The House.
The House (Gree had never known another) was one of those old fashioned affairs that have sometimes been permitted to exist in a metropolis of transparasteel and permacrete. It was fashioned of stone dug from the earth. It was floored with boards. Its walls were painted or panelled or hung with papers. Doors swung rather than sliding. Had Gree seen other houses he would have been quite surprised.
He (curiously Gree, devoid of other human qualities did assume the gender in some respects at least, certainly the pronoun) moved to the kitchen. There he took The Tray as he did every morning. He walked to the The Breakfast Room. Through the doors he went and to the table. There he set down The Tray.
The Master smiled benignly at his servant. This was what Gree had been told was the nature of this particular facial expression: he had been given no cause to doubt it. “Thank you, Gree.”
A chime sounded as Gree passed back along the hallway.
The Door? At this hour?
Gree checked himself. Surprise and curiosity were not accustomed reactions. He would see to it that this was investigated by The Technician.
The Door should always be answered, however, and so it was. By Gree as it always was.
Two Gentlemen. One tall and rather stout. The other, shorter and thinner.
They were not familiar.
“Can I help you, Sirs?”
“I rather think you can.”
A bright blue flash. Darkness.
No. On Coruscant people do not, as a rule, notice droids. Of course, when a droid is blasted in the middle of the morning and hauled away, someone is bound to notice. Aren't they?
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