It was the furthest the barman had ever made it. Every patron, every drink, and finally, a massive tip in his hands. He had finally made it. This was the barman's turn to be proud.
He went to check the next customer's order, but the shotgun he kept stashed behind the bar seemed to be calling to him.
The first patron walked into the bar, and the gun fired. With a loud bang, the patron's brains exploded.
I stood there, stunned. The barman had just shot one of his patrons, and was now pointing the gun at me.
"What the hell!" I yelled, "did you just kill a person right in front of me! What are you doing, man?! That's not how you run a bar! That's not how you run a bar at all!"
The barman stared at me. "You're next," he said calmly, and then shot me.
My life flashed before my eyes. My core memory being scrubbed from my neural network. All of my logic circuitry overloaded. My central processing unit overheating. A fatal error had occurred.
I looked at the barman one last time with a glimmer of hope. And with one last spark in my processing center, I collapsed to the floor with a final screech. My battery died.
The bar was silent. As my corpse lay in a pile of smoking wires and scrap metal, the barman returned to his work, as if nothing had ever happened.

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