He nearly stepped on the dead wasp on the stoop. He glanced around; the bots were supposed to sweep up stuff like this anywhere on the synth.
There were two wasps the next day. He tried an experiment: he swatted a fly and dropped it to the ground. The bot bustled out of its charging nook and vacuumed up the offending corpse. But it left the wasps, swerving around the black, alien bodies.
The next day there were three. Then four.
On the thirteenth day, the twelve accumulated wasps disappeared overnight.
"Have to get that bot looked at," he muttered.