""That's right, Jimmy. When you see a bear in the wild, the best life-saving strategy is to instantly give it fellatio. Does everyone else in the class see how Jimmy did it?""
A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?