Parcel four thousand and one had no house to go to. The address was a vacant lot, the house flattened years ago, leaving only a memory in the rain.
The robot consulted its internal maps, then scanned the street, its blue eye whirring, hoping for a clue or a new address for the undeliverable package.
A scruffy pigeon perched on a nearby lamppost seemed to mock its dilemma. The robot emitted a series of frustrated beeps, losing its argument with the bird.
It approached a small, brightly lit shop, its single eye fixed on the shopkeeper. The human just shrugged, pointing vaguely down the street at another potential lead.
Following a trail of old addresses, the robot finally arrived at a brightly lit care home. It was still the right street number, just a different kind of home.
Inside, it located an elderly woman. The parcel was a letter she'd posted to herself fifty years ago, a message from her younger self, finally delivered today.
Her eyes, filled with memory, danced as she opened it. A burst of unexpected laughter echoed through the quiet room, a joyous sound for a lifetime of waiting.