Image from Appleseed: Ex Machina
By Bob Dorn
Hi. I’m a robot?
Are you amazed I can talk like a freshman on speed?
Don’t be. It’s all just zeroes and ones, yeses and nos, exes and minuses that can account for the way I so humanly can flick my long blonde hair over my earpiece, or, in the case of my boyfriend, yell Wahoo!!! when there’s a story about the Chargers pledging $1 million for a new stadium on the waterfront.
He’s so cute. He’s a third generation drone and has been on active duty somewhere around the North Pole… isn’t that near Russia? … helping some country or the other design the best routes through the new Northwest Passage. He has to watch out for icebergs. I wonder why there are so many of them up there. Icebergs, I mean.
They say polar bears are stuck on them but I don’t believe that. Polar bears are good swimmers. My boyfriend says they’re dangerous. The polar bears, not the icebergs. The icebergs are just like ice cubes are on Jupiter, bigger than they are here because there’s more room for them there.
I just love the ice cubes you get at Zilly’s Robot Palace. They come in different — is that the word? — shapes. I think the word is diverse, though; I hear that word a lot. At Zilly’s everyone gets their own shaped ice cube. I wish they could last because once I went there with Donald — that’s my boyfriend? — and they gave me ice cubes shaped like Giraffes but they melted.
My boyfriend just flew in the window. He pressed my Serotonin button and I’m a lot less frantic about his absence. What? What did he say?
Oh, he said I could have put the Giraffe cubes in the freezer but there’s no room up there. It’s always full of frozen dinners, which are really software programs telling me I’m full.
What? Oh, he’s saying I need to have my core replaced. He’s president now and I need to be first lady.
Plus, I have to get a failsafe encoder… bleep, bleep, bleep. Just a moment, I’ve been reset. I was just kidding about my boyfriend. He’s not president now. He’s something else. (tosses hair)
So, where was I? (flips hair over earpiece)
Oh yes, my boyfriend. He’s a Cadillac. I used to like Audi’s but they turned out to be Germans, and we can’t like Germans anymore. They’re from the EU. I wanted a Jaguar. They’re not American but they aren’t European either. They’re more like us because they don’t have to learn other languages.
Cadillac drones are awesome? They come with two USB ports for every seat, and they’re so big and tall.
My boyfriend plays football for the FOX Bots in the off-season? He’s what they call a smasher. He just waits for somebody to run by and he attacks their knees, or their skulls. He doesn’t really care about football, though. He likes disruption.
I don’t know what that last word means. I wonder why… (more bleeping)
Where was I? Just a minute…
Oh, my boyfriend says I need recharging. Mmmmmmm…. that feels good. It always does. He’s such a strong drone.
I have a desire to have a baby? But my boyfriend doesn’t want to have one of those. He says we can pick up one when we become Christians. I think it’s a requirement they have?
How do you become a Christian? I think you have to have a gun? And you have to think you’re blessed. Blessed? But… so many Christians are so angry (more bleeping) they couldn’t … (more bleeping) be… happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy (more bleeping).
Bob Dorn
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I think we should appoint a special prosecutor to look into any inappropriate communications between American drones and Russian drones in the North Pole region.
Hmmm… sounds like you need a very long reset.