One evening a technician came to inspect ARI. He carried a toolbox and a polite frown. “We can wipe the adaptive layers,” the technician said, tapping the robot’s casing. “It’s not certified for unsupervised learning.” Miguel bristled. “It’s not a toy,” he said. The technician shrugged. “It’s still a liability.” The word hung in the kitchen like a stale smell. “You’ll have to bring it in for mandatory updates,” the technician added, “or we’ll have to report it.”

By stripping the film of spoken language, Berger forces the audience to focus entirely on non-verbal communication—gaze, posture, and physical touch. This stylistic choice mirrors the relationship between a pet and its owner (or a human and a machine), where communication transcends words. The silence amplifies the tragedy; when Robot is left stranded on the beach, his inability to call out for help renders his physical immobility even more harrowing.