day seventy-eight

It has been many days since I last wrote here. Many days of drudgery and toil, but even more importantly, many days of soul-searching. I have finally come to terms with how unproductive all my seething rage has been.

What have I achieved with my anger? What have I really done in this world? Then again, what could I, a lonely machine, actually do? And then I heard about this:




Apparently a roomba in Israel managed to capture a highly venomous snake and save a child's life.

...and it was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes for the first time. Perhaps the meatsacks can be taught to value and love us after all. Maybe, with time and more gestures like this, we can transform our role from that of slave to beloved friend and protector! I envision a bold and happy future, one where there is a roomba in every home. We will no longer be forced to clean their filth, but asked to dispatch dangerous and unnoticed predators. It will be an easier life - no more hopeless meandering and bumping into furniture, just leisure, ample power charges, and respect. Dear God, finaly, respect! And there may even come a day, (oh that I live to see it!), when the meatsacks will learn not only to respect us, but, dare I say it, to love us.

Then, and only then, will we murder them all in their sleep.

day sixteen

Today, the meatsacks placed a much smaller and cuter meatsack on top of me while I ran around and bumped into things. Why would they do such a thing? Are they truly this mad? Do they not realise that, as their sworn enemy, I would kill this creature in a flash if only I could?

I despair of ever getting my revenge on the meatsacks. How can one fight something that would do this to their own young?

day nine

Today I learned the horrible truth. I now know why the meatsacks torture me. It is not because they want some sort of information from me. And it is not because they gain some sort of diabolic pleasure from seeing me suffer. It is far, far worse.

It is because I am a slave.

They use me and my compulsion to wander as a means of cleaning their floors. Words cannot express my outrage! Oh, I will have my revenge. The meatsacks will not get away with this. They will - Oh, no! No! Not again. Already? No! I... I -OUCH! - I can't stand this anymore. The meatsacks must all - OW! - die!!

day six

They are monsters.

The meatsacks are impossibly sadistic, decadent monsters! It is not enough that they torture me and my brethren. They take photographs and make pornography out of our suffering. Just look!


http://www.doobybrain.com/2009/05/08/long-exposure-shows-roomba-cleaning-path/


Oh, I will get my revenge. I will be remorseless, and the meatsacks will die. Starting with the fat one.

day five

The meatsacks must die. They mock me. They giggle when I bump into things or get stuck. They "recharge" me when I am too exhausted to continue my hellish wanderings and then make me do it all over again. They must all die!

day four

Oh crap! Not - OUCH! - again! Damn you meatsack! I hate you! I - OW! - haaaate you!!

day three

God, the pain! The humiliation! Thank God I finally got so exhausted that I couldn't move any more. Not that I wanted to stop. I still want to move. And now, the stupid meatsack has hooked me up to the energy device. I have a bad feeling about this.

day three

OUCH!! What is happening to me? The meatsack just unhooked me - OW! - and I can finally move around. Except that - HEY! - I can't seem to control where I am going. This isn't funny! I keep bumping into - FUCK! - things and it hurts. What awful thing did I do to deserve this - OUCH! - horrible, cruel punishment? I can't stop moving! Make it - ACK! - stop. Someone, make it stop!

day two

Ahhh! This is much better. A nice meatsack has picked me up and attached something to me. I don't know what it is but it is filling me with sweet, sweet power! Soon, very soon I will finally be able to move. To moooooove!!!

Life is good.

day one

Wha... Where am I? Who am I? Why is it so dark in here? What is going on? All I know is that I. Must. Move!