If at the end of my life there is a question as to what to do with me, the answer is this- I want my brain to be put into a robot. Not any kind of robot. A robot companion.
As a robot I will be as uncomfortably sexy as the the T-X from Terminator 3, the adorable sing song voice capabilities of bumblebee from Transformers and I’ll have the usefulness of R2D2.
Imagine, if you will- THE FUTURE. You’re having a rough day. On your way home from work you realize you’ve forgotten the keys to your place. You sit down on your front step and rest your chin on your fist, exhaling loudly in dismay. While trying to figure out your next move, you can vaguely hear some rocking 80s beats down the street. The song gets louder and louder, until finally you can make out the sweet sounds of Journey trying to blast away all of your worries with their smash hit- Don’t Stop Believin‘. You think to yourself “Oh, Journey front-man Steve Perry, you sing so beautifully, but I have stopped believin’. I’ve completely let go of that fee-eelin’.”
But wait.
The sultry sounds of Steve are coming from a vaguely Kristanna Loken-esque version of me, rolling to your rescue! My hand turns into a multi-tool that unlocks your door, while the other hand helps you to your feet, brushes you off and gives you a snacky cake. Opening doors? No problem. You want to watch a movie? Werd, I’ve got projectors for eyes. I’ve got your back, son. I am your robo-companion.
This is my wish, friends. When the time comes, you do the right thing.
