Carmel and I were tomb-robbers.
The Tech Pharoah had finally died and been placed inside the enormous pyramid that had been built for him in the heart of the empire, built over the course of years. The construction robots were welding plates over the final service hatch, sealing the whole thing up forever, and we slipped past them and into the pyramid at the last moment, figuring that it would be easier to break out from the inside than to break in from the outside.
Inside the pyramid, it was like a giant conference center, with kitchens and dining halls and auditoriums and workshop classrooms, all silent and powered down, lit by little pools of dim light. We strolled down a wide hallway and around a corner into a large reception area.
Then suddenly we were being shot at! CRACK-PWANG, the unmistakable sound of a (slower than sound) gunshot. Across the lobby was a sentry robot, which looked like the upper half of a clockwork musket rifleman from the Revolutionary War, like a redshirt. As the gears and springs and coils wound and turned, it reloaded the musket for another shot. It was mounted on a rolling chassis like a lawnmower, being pushed along towards us by my friend Uber. Apparently the Pharoah had found a way to obligate Uber to serve forever as a tomb guardian.