You'll just have to worry about that neural-input rot. Oh, and mad cow; I hear it's especially hard on cyborgs. That's why my killbot's interface is just pads-on-skin.
You know, that collective sigh of relief with the end of the Soviet Union and the election of Bill Clinton is turning out more and more to have been both illusory and fleeting.
I am, in fact, just a disembodied consciousness that floats in the ether and creates meatsacks when I need to interface with your species. Don't worry about the avian flu. When my brethren from Dimension X assimilate my report, your species will undoubtedly be elevated to a higher plane.
See, everything's a trade-off. In a straight battle, your killbot will mop the floor with my killbot: The differential in reflexes is huge. But given time or seige, you'll slowly grow ill and your 'bot will rust and wear out while I grow stronger and my 'bot remains fully lubed.
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Chris
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And now I'm back to my A Boy and His Dog thoughts again.
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Curse my foolish attachment to my CNS!
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I am, in fact, just a disembodied consciousness that floats in the ether and creates meatsacks when I need to interface with your species. Don't worry about the avian flu. When my brethren from Dimension X assimilate my report, your species will undoubtedly be elevated to a higher plane.
Or wiped out. It's a bit of a toss-up, that one.
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Bwaaaa hahahhaaha!
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Chris
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Chris
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Chris