“People keep telling me to ‘lighten up,’” continued Ultra Magnus, “but whenever I try to make a joke it falls flat.” He scaled a flight of stairs in a single stride and waited for Rung to catch up. “Rodimus says it’s my delivery. He says – what does he say? He says I sound like someone phoning in a bomb threat.”

“I think you just need to find the kind of humor that works for you. And I think that deep down you actually like talking to people.”

Magnus stopped, raised himself to his full height, and held up his forefinger to signal the impending arrival of another gag.

“If Primus had intended his children to make light conversation he’d have equipped us all with vocal synthesizers.” Pause. “Sorry – with more energy-efficient vocal synthesizers. That’s right: he’d have equipped us all with more energy-efficient vocal synthesizers.”

A silence deeper and truer than any Rung had ever known descended upon them both. Minutes stretched into hours. Empires rose and fell. Molecular clouds formed stars that collapsed and went supernova. The universe succumbed to its inevitable heatdeath.

“I should have said energy-efficient vocal synthesizers,” said Ultra Magnus quietly, in a manner reminiscent of a pathologist estimating the time of death.

Rung was so embarrassed for his crewmate, and so desperate to change the subject, that he fleetingly considered confessing to a Category A crime.```