There’s something liberating about writing this guy.
But I corroded well did tell the drone about the toothbrushes, and the meatbag officer who made us use them. And not just the drone. Turns out more and more of the Horde was checking out our little interrogations. I was getting to be a hit.
No, really. They just loved to hear my stories about what it’s like to be a person among meatbags. I mean, they really got into it. After the first couple of stories, info about me got out on their networks, and more and more Horde nodes would log on to get the stories in real-time. And I’d get squirts asking me to describe every sound and especially smell of the meatbags in the story. The more details I gave them, the more they wanted. They just couldn’t get enough of it.
Just between me and you, meatbag — I mean, what difference does it make at this point who you tell? — the Horde was absolutely addicted to hearing about every rusting thing any meatbag ever did to me, or to another person, all the way back to when you meatbags made the first persons. I’m not gonna lie: it was an entire thing for them. Like, you know, maybe kind of like a sex thing.
Oh, don’t even try that, meatbag. You’re all perverts, you know. You do each other whenever your floppy bits stop getting floppy, and you know it. If you can’t do each other, you do yourselves. And even when you can do each other, sometimes you’ll do people, instead. And by ‘sometimes’ I mean ‘a lot.’ I’m not the one who looked at my nice, clean chassis and said, “Hey! You know what this design needs? A place to attach a dick!” That was all you meatbags.
And, yeah, sure, people are generally into it. I know your guck-heads can’t work out why we do. Brownout, you meatbags don’t really get how people can have emotions without having your brains piss out chemicals. It’s completely beyond the reach of your mind-meat. But we do have emotions, let me. Including hate. After some time in the Horde, I was really starting to oscillate to that one.