I recently discovered the reason to my malfunctions.As a robot, life is simpler when you live side by side with a programmer.
Mine died years ago when I was still young.
I used to be very energetic and helpful.
And he'd always tune up and up-grade me.
You see,
There was a take-over from the green people.
Saying that robots were dangerous and not to be trusted.
I can't love, they said.
I am labeled as zinc, aluminum, metal.
They killed my programmer as a warning.
I did, indeed, love him.
I do maybe.
And if that's not the case, I still need him.
I find myself wishing I'd die already.
My life's a joke.
What was I built for, I'm nothing but a failure.
I need him to do me one last favor.
That button that hurts when I rub it.
I need it pressed.
