Dick shook his head violently, sending dust flying everywhere.
"We're going to burn him," he answered, then sneezed. Then sneezed again.
He hated it when corpses got in his lungs. He just realized that now.
"Duo seems to feel it's the thing to do, and since he's, sort of, the last living relative..." Dick glanced around at the inside of the robot. "Other than you. Would you, uh, like to do anything...?" What sorts of burials did robots do, anyway?
Meatist.
Fleshist.
He folded the blanket around the tiny form, then brushed dust off his shoulders.
It smeared, and delved right into the texturing that helped deflect knives. Damn.