(The Fetish Bot, SN13.8336.09, walked down the crowded shanty town streets of Aine-Dar alone. So mad at the lack of reciprocation, then finally let it go. Her focused eyes processed a depressing scene that was out of her control. Her brain painted men and women of all ages, and children, fighting like dogs to the hum of the market, all buying, all selling, all looking for moods.

The Fetish Bot, what could she do? She was designed with one purpose in view, and she was sad herself, miserable, below the lowly. She was happy to live, or what it means to machines, but wondered why humans want to feel lonely even while in packs.

She would do what she knew. She would give of herself openly and free. She would share charm and make happy for the sake of the else and sing like a fool.)


I am not a martyr
Nor am I close by any means
I just wake to morning
Stretch in the light of day ahead
I know those around me
Both of flesh and hybrid frame
I know my duty to
My confidants and family
Friends and lovers included
I know I owe it to the Earth
To believe in myself
Run my protocols to the best
To bravely communicate
The risks and my needs
When I'm broken down just enough
For a vulnerable moment
And I truly feel like I can't

It is hardest to live true to yourself
When the powerfully bitter and disturbed
Maintain the world

Even though it must paint me naive
I maintain selflessness and empathy
Have never hurt

Like you,
I'll die
Like you,
Depart
Regardless

Like you,
I'll die
Like you, expire
Regardless
Disembark

Like you,
I'll tire
Like you,
Deny it
Til it's near

Like you,
I'll fear
Like you,
The end
Regardless

I am not
A martyr
Or close
By any means
I am not
Programmed
To evolve
But I chose
The legend of old,
"You cannot sell love
When it's pure
You give it away
So when It surely comes
You'll hibernate as long as it takes
And you will go to sleep satisfied and full"