*Shares a slice of ice cream cake to everyone, except Samkaka*
*Pushes mademoiselle against the wall*
*Violently kisses her neck as I work my way down*
*has cake and ice cream on the table*
*notice it transform from a tea party to a sweets party*
o____o
*sipping mah tea again in shock of the transformation*
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?