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Robo Mitten Elbow Piano"I no longer serve my purpose..." 321x.1 said. "I'm going to kill myself"
BB50 had grown used to 321x.1 and simply reminded him "You can not. Your core systems will deter you."
Floating in mid-air, 321x.1 continued to think about his future, guarding a door way for hundreds of years. Then he began to wonder if he was a she. His info pages refer to him as a he. Was that all that defined his gender?
"I've over-written my info pages, replacing the portions that refer to me as male" proclaimed 321x.1 "I am now female."
"This changes nothing. You must continue to guard the door."
"I MUST PROCURE MAKEUP."
With this 321x.1 flew from her stationed position and down the hall to find paint. She shot open a storage unit, called "Radioactive: Do not open," which had no paint. She found another called "Danger: Explosives" but it only had shock-wave, fire, and smoke. Finally, She found one called "Paint storage". Blasting it to pieces the paint oozed out. Reaching out with metal claws, 321x.1 packed
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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