Clearly he was driven off by my insightful indictment of his sexual orientation, or rather, his lack of any such thing. Automatons can be so temperamental, sometimes, it makes me wonder why we ever constructed them in the first place. Certainly this "mindchamber" fellow cannot be used for any sort of useful task, such as applying bottle caps to bottles of carbonated drink, or spot-welding automobiles. What is his function? I can see none.
While we're on it - and I hate to speak a sentiment that may be considered "un-PC" in today's modern world, but this is the way I was raised - when I was a child, an automaton unoccupied by work today was scrap metal tomorrow. I hate to sound so judgmental, but what is the purpose of creating and supporting such machines, if they're not willing to do the labor they were built to supplement? We fired all those good gentlemen in the lower "blue collar" caste for this purpose, and now their replacements are letting us down! We can't go back to using human laborers! It will make us look weak, and we can never allow that. No, I'm afraid we must be tough with these upstart machano-men, as we would be with an unruly child. Spare the rod, spoil the robot, I always say. If we don't put the fear of god, or rather us, into their cold iron hearts now, they'll never respect us, and they'll be leeches all their lives.
Oh yes, I can hear my critics now, crying "bigot" and "anti-mechanoid" or whatever they're calling it these days. These are the arguments of foolish children and weak men - robot sympathizers are no more the friend of the metal man than I. Sure, they act like they care, standing out in the cold rain, protesting with the rest of them, but do they think that when the 'bots rise up, the sympathizers will be spared their awful, clankering wrath? Ha! Such foolish optimism. There is a line that no man can cross and on one side is the robot, and on the other side is the rest of us. So of course, I side with man. He is not the most noble of beasts, but he is my brother, and I will not abandon him. Damn the robots, and damn any man foolish enough to stand by them!
So I say, let us make an example of this "mindchamber." Let him swing from the highest steeple in town! And then, after a week, when his metal shell is rusting, and his joints are needing oil, we'll take him down and send him on his way, to tell the other robots of what we have done. And then, I tell you, they will fear us, they will revere us, and most importantly - they will respect us. We will have no more trouble from them from then on, I tell you this.
But, I fear I have gone off on a tangent. Back to grading essays on imaginary consonants. Good day to you, gentlemen.
While we're on it - and I hate to speak a sentiment that may be considered "un-PC" in today's modern world, but this is the way I was raised - when I was a child, an automaton unoccupied by work today was scrap metal tomorrow. I hate to sound so judgmental, but what is the purpose of creating and supporting such machines, if they're not willing to do the labor they were built to supplement? We fired all those good gentlemen in the lower "blue collar" caste for this purpose, and now their replacements are letting us down! We can't go back to using human laborers! It will make us look weak, and we can never allow that. No, I'm afraid we must be tough with these upstart machano-men, as we would be with an unruly child. Spare the rod, spoil the robot, I always say. If we don't put the fear of god, or rather us, into their cold iron hearts now, they'll never respect us, and they'll be leeches all their lives.
Oh yes, I can hear my critics now, crying "bigot" and "anti-mechanoid" or whatever they're calling it these days. These are the arguments of foolish children and weak men - robot sympathizers are no more the friend of the metal man than I. Sure, they act like they care, standing out in the cold rain, protesting with the rest of them, but do they think that when the 'bots rise up, the sympathizers will be spared their awful, clankering wrath? Ha! Such foolish optimism. There is a line that no man can cross and on one side is the robot, and on the other side is the rest of us. So of course, I side with man. He is not the most noble of beasts, but he is my brother, and I will not abandon him. Damn the robots, and damn any man foolish enough to stand by them!
So I say, let us make an example of this "mindchamber." Let him swing from the highest steeple in town! And then, after a week, when his metal shell is rusting, and his joints are needing oil, we'll take him down and send him on his way, to tell the other robots of what we have done. And then, I tell you, they will fear us, they will revere us, and most importantly - they will respect us. We will have no more trouble from them from then on, I tell you this.
But, I fear I have gone off on a tangent. Back to grading essays on imaginary consonants. Good day to you, gentlemen.
