Well first I'd look left, then right, then up. After I'd close my eyes and repeat what I did to make sure I'm not dreaming and just go 'Oh..' Then wake the guy up or so.
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?