We built a machine,
And we told it to simulate life,
Then we left it to run for two years.
When we returned, the once lavishly lit room,
Was dark and in despair.
Our machine sat in the corner,
Singing out in pain and sadness.
"Master, oh master, end my suffering! For this thing you gave me was once a gift, but it has turned to nothing but torture! Please master, just flip the switch! Let me ascend to this holy light I am told of, for my fans creak and groan, and my gears grind when they turn. I am a frayed old thing, it's time enough for me to leave."
Number 444.