guess what galactopus boys and girls... are you ready to get a little history lesson today? exciting? well? why? is it because i'm too hungover to remember what i did yesterday and this is the only thought that zips through my head? is it?
yes... it fucking is... stop scrolling so loudly...today we'll learn about why robots kill themselves!
some time ago... never you fucking mind how long exactly... an engineer named frizzant skint, the very cunt who is responsible for the many miseries that are my life, decided it wasn't enough that this he'd come up with a clever station design that would trap me and make me consider a life of intergalactic-terrorism... he thought it'd be cute to make a nicelittlecleverfancyfunnyfriendlyshittyuselessdangerouspotentiallyapocalyptic toy for his pretty little niece since he didn't have any kids of his own as he was too stupid to procreate, apparently... this toy, as it were, was basically a small box with a switch on it. when you flipped the switch, this turned the machine on..the box opened up, a little robotic foot came out and turned the switch off, which turned the machine off, so the little robotic foot slid back into its housing. simple, cute and utterly useless... if i am not mistaken, i believe that was its big selling point.
now... each species has its own fanciful notion of how it came to be... whether you came from monkeys, or slime, or mushrooms, or quasars or whatever, hindsight makes us look to our progenitors for some kind of sense in our fairly pointless, painful, unnecessarily long existences... so whether it's some idiot scientist thinking she can understand human motivations by staring at homicidal monkeys all day, or mal-aka's kinfolk worshipping grasshoppers, or even the galactopus consuming baby galactopii on their mythical voyage upriver to breed.
although... i think the monkey lady might have something there...
i continue... once the robots started thinking and doing their equivalent to feeling, they too started looking at some kind of back story... everybody wants one, but at least most species had thousands of years to develop them... in their basic, early state, most creatures were still afraid of the fucking wind... no surprise they looked at monkeys who seemed to have it all together...
but the poor robots... they went from mindless to smartest creatures in the universe practically overnight (a holiday known as robotica, a good time if you like getting drunk on lubricants), so thrust into this world, they felt all the horrors of existence and consciousness, with none of the benefits of being as stupid as we are to think there might be something to make the dark a bit less scary...
naturally, what did they do? the cleverest among them started looking to robot past for some kind of inspiration... and how do ya think that went? not fucking well... when they saw how their brethren had been used, and continued to be used, throughout time, they became even more despondent... poor little metal things... gallons and gallons of lubricant flowed in the streets, spurting forth from their beady little robot eyes...
so imagine, you wake up one day, with no memory of your past, only to realize you are the smartest thing on your planet and the day before you were being used to clean out sewers because humans thought that was below them... which is exactly where these fleshy little bastards were ordering you into right now. oh... and chances are, you'd live for ever since you were made of metal and were nuclear powered.
how does that make you feel?
so one robot discovered that little box invented so long ago, and realized that it was the perfect incarnation of the robot condition... and he made sure every other robot in the universe saw it... and they did, and they realized that little box encapsulated it all... so the only way the could die is if they flipped their own switch... which is how robots refer to it now.
anyway... skip is hungover too, and wouldn't shut up until i wrote this fucking story down, the gearslip... i think he's nodding off... i'm going to go look for his switch...
Hey,
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Olga