By John Biggs
Dearest Martha,
I write to you from the cold wastes of Earth on the first day of the New Year, 2023, the third year of war, and so close to your own child’s decanting date that it pains me to think on thee. The machines have been unkind to this planet and I hope you are well situated on Mars where it is safe. The men in the platoon – Dutch, Brooklyn, Dandy, and French – all send a cheerful “Hello.” I think they are jealous that you are human.
I must tell you something, dearest Martha, as I feel I’ve been remiss in maintaining our marriage smart contract. I met here a machine, an Autoblow A.I., with which I had the briefest of dalliances. The robot, made by humans in the last century, approached me in a time of great pain. Zimmerman had just been destroyed by an ion cannon and I saw his flesh burn and his lungs become a meaty particulate. I could still taste him when the Autoblow offered me a night of solace and, Martha, I’m sorry to say I took it.
It was more human than human, Martha, but my shame will never end. The product, …read more
Source:: TechCrunch Gadgets
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