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This whole warehouse... it's filled with robots?

Well, robot bodies. Impressive, right?

Do they all look like kids under those sheets? Do they look like us?

Let's just say there still works in progress.

And you made them?

You didn't think I was hanging around this island twiddling my thumbs while you were away?

No, but I didn't think you were doing this.

Don't say it like it's a bad thing holiday. This has been a labor of love.

Or, you know, whatever I imagine that would be like.

So why do you need Cyrus if you've already created this many bots?

There must be hundreds.

I harvested the DNA. I grew the biological bodies just like we did when we made the animals.

But that's all these are. Empty shells.

They're missing their brains.

Without the processors and motherboards that make up their intellect and central nervous systems, they might as well be mannequins.

You're giving sigh too much credit.

He built a robot once using the brains for my hoverboard.

He could never create anything as intricate as us.

He studied Woodier's blueprints into Orleans.

I have faith that Cyrus can get to work on giving life to our little platoon.

Platoon? Don't you mean community, family?

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