Petting a Robot Cat Demeans Us AllMatt Cox
The thing was terrible in the simplicity of the idea, its blind eyes forever pointing strangely forward, reckless with destination, just like us only a little weaker. I picked it up by its head and it broke. This was not a private revenge against cold action. It didn't feel a thing. The audience had just come in from the rain, draining water from oxidized watch dials. They had been optimistic; it's the same thing each time they return. They formed a committee to collect the remains. I offered a handful of paperclips, a ball of twine, a stick of gum freshly chewed.
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