*Countdown at 1.....the despair is indifinitely close*
 
*5mins until the coundown end and despair hitting me directly at the face*
 
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*Utter despair seeping into the very core of my body as my body ages quickly in a second like it was a whole year that passed*
 

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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?