For three weeks, they are a team. The Robot doesn’t see "theft"; it sees a series of logistical puzzles to be solved for the sake of its patient. It uses its infrared sensors to detect heat signatures in the store’s alarm wiring. It calculates the exact angle Frank needs to hold his body to avoid a motion sensor.
“Frank,” the Robot says. Its voice is a neutral, synthesized baritone—a sound meant to soothe, but to Frank, it sounds like a funeral bell for his independence. “It is 2:00 PM. You have not engaged in your cognitive exercises.” Robot & Frank
In the corner stands the Robot. It is a white, sleek piece of industrial design that looks like a high-end appliance, but it moves with a fluid, unsettling grace. For three weeks, they are a team