My robotic afterlife was tainted with rejection. I'd gaze at my reflection and see rust. Let's form a club for all the clones that never made it. Techno lepers, cyber chumps, prosthetic paupers plunging pliers in your pocket... And if I dance when you are feeling bored... And if I serve you when you're lazy, lying limp across the floor, will you inject a little joy into my stick? Will you respect me in the morning?