The Machine Herald sat at his desk, working on the newest robotic invention he had created. Whatever face he may still have had was hidden completely by the metal mask he never took off. He was hunched over, and his third arm, connected to his left shoulder, was emitting a laser, sealing up the metal of the robot before him. He heard you walk in, and turning his head toward you, he simply spat out the words: “What do you want?”