The saddest sound is found in the Way Radical Casette Disco, the bar for obsolete robots. A robot there was made to extract artificial flavors from a bird that is now extinct. He sits in an old blue vinyl booth with white ropes that was bought at auction from a bankrupt seafood restaurant. Old gritty oil leaks from his cracked seals and gaskets. Scattered on the table before him are fifteen double-tall cans of Robot Fuel Lite – all empty. He attempts to crush the fifteenth against his forehead. For the last time his arm’s rotator cuff seizes and the can falls from his grasp. It falls to the beer-stained floor and lands on a broken peanut shell. That sound is the saddest sound.
I am reminded of GLaDOS.
Tacoma… that is strangely beautiful
Tacoma, I merely wonder just what it is that the robots are doing with the peanuts …
Using them for oil. Obviously.
Tacoma, you are close. Very close. It is, indeed, the sound of the mouse living in the wall, who sings songs for this robot, far above his range of hearing; songs of hopeless love, of knowing, no matter how loud you sing, your love will never hear you, and be saved from himself.
I want you all to know that I am very depressed.
D Minor is the saddest key of all.