NOW THAT I’M A ROBOT
Thank you all for coming. As you can clearly see, I’m no longer the person I once was. In fact, I’m no longer a person at all.
Some may be tempted to call me an android. You’d be mistaken. An android is a robot with a human appearance, but when I got the chance to have my brain implanted into a robotic body, I opted for the bulky, box-like design. Why? Because, frankly, I could never stand you people and had no desire to continue looking like you. When I say “you people,” by the way, I’m not speaking of you people specifically, but “all” people.
Don’t get me wrong. Now that I’m a robot, I’m not going to go crazy and start “killing all humans.” (Unless, of course, you force me to. But that seems unlikely.)
Some of you assembled here today knew me long before my transformation. You remember me as a puny weakling, no doubt, incapable of defending myself. Now I’m constructed from a titanium alloy. I’m not sure what that is exactly, but I _am_ certain that if anyone ever tried to punch me in the back of the head again, he’d break every bone in his hand. And when he cried out in pain, holding his destroyed hand, I’d laugh a deep robot laugh and then shoot electricity out of my titanium fingertips and fry you…that is, “him”…right there on the spot.
But again…not a killer robot. I have no wish to harm anyone, even though I may be dying to try out my laser beam eyes. (I have a feeling they could instantly reduce a person to ash, but have no way of knowing. Yet.) Technically, they’re not eyes anymore but optic sensors. They can tell me exactly how many pores are on each of your noses, yet they’re incapable of shedding even a single tear. Not that I’ll have any need for tears anymore, unless they’re tears of joy. Tears of joy might actually be appropriate at this moment, but I’d definitely sacrifice them to keep the lasers.
In addition to the laser beam eyes and electricity-shooting fingers, I’m now incredibly strong. My bench press has gone from 115 pounds to somewhere in the vicinity of 14.9 metric tons. But obviously I no longer have any need for exercise.
That brings me to my next point. Since I don’t need to exercise and you all do, I’ve come up with a plan that calls for you to fetch anything I may need from now on — books, keys, priceless artwork, gold. Whatever. This will keep you in good shape, but more importantly it will keep me happy. And believe me, you want to keep me happy.
If any of you are thinking of becoming as happy as I am — in other words, if any of you are thinking about also becoming robots — I should inform you that the pair of scientists who worked on me have been killed in a tragic car accident, and they were the only ones with the required knowledge and skill. Their car was crushed into a tiny square, the kind you see in auto wrecking yards. This was an accident, of course. I was merely trying to open the car door for them. Unfortunately, I misjudged my new super strength and… well, no one else will be getting a robot body until other scientists can be trained. And you never know if they might suffer an accident as well.
I’ve forgotten to mention my ears. Excuse me — my auditory sensors. Like my optic receptors, they’re a thousand times more efficient than the ordinary human’s, meaning I can hear every word spoken in this auditorium. When I dismiss you all momentarily I would like the gentleman in the nineteenth row, wearing the gray sport coat, to stay behind. I heard what you muttered and would like to assuage your concerns in private. I see that 24,352 beads of sweat have suddenly erupted from your brow, friend, but I assure you there will be little pain. At least, I “think” there will be little pain. I’m new at this.
As for the rest of you, and humanity in general, I’m sure we’ll get along fine. You’ll all be staying weak pathetic humans and I’ll be staying a super-powerful robot with laser beam eyes and such. As soon as we all accept that, the better off we…that is, “you”…will be.
End communication.