We're down to one fly now, and I think it has a little Jeff Goldblum in its genetics. It's a wily one. Its five brothers and sisters have all been successfully swatted, but this one seems to have--well--eyes in the back of its head.
Last night I tried to lure it with a dab of butter on the kitchen island, but it saw through my simple ruse and refused to light. This morning, when I went into the kitchen, it was perched on the business end of the fly swatter, probably breakfasting off the squashed remains of its siblings. Needless to say, it got away.
If the machines don't take over the world, the insects will.