My Inability to Write

5AM...9AM...Noon...5PM...9PM...Midnight...David IIV carefully lowered his middle finger and soldered the remaining resistor into place precisely and perfectly, finally finishing his wazzastic superschrumer, which was death to all pollen creating objects. A tendril of smoke rose from the finger as his metallic eyes blinked and rattled in satisfaction. David IIV was supremely happy for a Grade AVA robot. He clunked his hand on the lever and his circuits immediately went into overdrive. Outside of his metal grate, he saw trees folding into themselves and flowers growing back into the ground. David IIV ran through the wall in his panic to stop the chaos that he had unleashed.

Suddenly, a siren was nearly on top of him and lasers flooded the area. A loudspeaker announced, "David IIV. You are wanted for the destruction of plant life. Turn yourself off immediately." David IIV froze in mid-clunk and took a nanosecond to ponder his 12,347 possible options, of which 10,346 led to the same scenario with a 5% margin of error, 364 of which were plain awful, and the rest were somewhat in between. Something amazing happened just then. Instead of taking the rational option to turn himself off, David IIV shivered and teleported himself into the middle of a garbage heap on a large and gaseous purple planet.

See, I can write about you instead

4:02:09AM ... 4:02:10 ... 4:02:11 ... 4:02:12 ... Mimi bolted upright in her bed, instantly awake. Her Training had been thorough -- she could keep time without a watch, and will herself to wake up whenever she needed to. Mimi tilted her head toward the far wall -- before she became an Agent, she would've had trouble making out the clock there, but now, she did not even need to use her eyes: the distinctive pitch of the ticking told her where the hands were, told her that her own circadian clock was two minutes slow this morning. Time to get to work. Her fingers found the latch to the false bottom of her dresser. She pulled out the laptop and transmitter, and began reporting in.

By day, Mimi was a student at a university in Philadelphia. Student-Mimi needed an alarm clock to wake up, couldn't see without glasses, and had no idea what Agent-Mimi did at night. Student-Mimi occasionally mused that it might be cool to be a secret agent, but sighed that she probably wasn't cut out for it. Except for a subconscious aversion to ever looking in the bottom drawer of her dresser, student-Mimi was perfectly normal.

Agent-Mimi put her gear back into its hiding place and crawled back into her bed. Tonight, she wouldn't need to change out of her pajamas, to trudge outside. She instantly fell back to sleep.

...

Outside her building, a man in a dark coat packed something back into his bag, weaved through the shadows to his van, and drove off.