|
Robby couldn't help but reflect, again, on the frustration inherent in being a mechanical man: Having a brain capable of handling millions of independent calculations a second, and being trapped in a clumsy physical body that moved at a glacier's pace; his mind dancing around in a million directions in the time it took his metal eyelid to blink, something that some idiot had hardwired to be a ridiculously-slow process, not out of efficiency, but in order to avoid upsetting the overly-sensitive and glacially-slow organics around him; being able to calculate a thousand responses to a question in the space between syllables; it was maddening, and it often amazed him that he didn't simply reach into his chest and rip his power plant out, just to put himself out of his misery... but of course, even that would have taken him nine hundred thousand lifetimes, in his perception, to accomplish, so he really couldn't see the point.
|