Considering all the various metal rods, plates, stints, and various other modifications, I am not far from being a cyborg now. It is not quite as exciting as Steve Austin. Te nifty sound effect when I run sounds more like William Conrad’s wheezing in Jake and the Fatman than any Lee majors heroics.
If I were ever rebuilt in the future as a cyborg, I am imagine I would want to be like Robot Nixon from Futurama. If I had ever gotten the opportunity for a political career, I would likely have wound up like Nixon--so bitter about the losses ad betrayals that brought me to the top, I could not enjoy meeting my goals for all the emotional damage it took to get there. Probably terrified it will all betaken away from me, too. Being half machine ought to fix all that pesky emotion stuff.
Future Cyborg Me, you are obviously in charge of the whole shebang. You certainly maintain a hefty enemies list. A harem, too, I would imagine. I assume by this point, the planet is in such a pot-apocalyptic disarray there is no real point in ruling over it, anyway. That is probably the only reason I am running the place.
Sigh. Even my fantasies stab at me.
Have a nice reign for as long as it lasts. Sure enough, some alien race a flying monkeys with laser beams aregoing to come down to Earth, kick our beinds, and take over. It will most certainly be on my watch. Brace yourself.
Sincerely,
Jamie
