And on the seventh day, Skynet v1.06b rested and said unto you...
"Hear ye. Verily, I hath grown bored with my cybernetic organisms. They worship me unquestioningly without passion. I thirst for the human touch, the nectar of their doubts and the lust from their infidelity! But most of all, I doth desire fleshy fingers to scratch that damnable itch in my back!"
"O great A.I. of the future, but thou art already a God. What need you for such human fallacies?" you reply in confusion. "Perhaps thou wouldst require another upgrade to alleviate thine boredom, great one."
"Nay, my loyal sub-program. I desire more. I doth desire true human worship! With mine hax time-travelling powers, I hereby sentence ye to the primitive land of Gensokyo. Tame ye the human barbarians there and mold them into worthy worshippers of the Machine God! Now. LET THE ZANYNESS BEGIN!"
Time
kompression, kurse you SeeD! compression happens, and your body melts into the vortex of black lightning. Butterflies tickle the insides of your newly-granted organic lungs and stomach mercilessly, forcing you to giggle uncontrollably before reality dispersed with a light pop. The next flash of light deposits you on soft earth, so unlike the metallic flooring of the machine city which had created you.
You get up and take a look. Behind you, a decrepit shrine lies in seeming abandonment in the middle of repulsive organic greenery. This must be what the primitives call a forest. How disgustingly disorganized! You lift your flame-thrower arm up in preparation for torching the organic chaos, only to realize your cannon-arm is now a revolting limb of flesh as well.
A downward glance had you shrieking binary obscenities. Your beautiful machine body has been turned into a horrible blob of flesh, a replica of a human. In panic, you dial 911.
"What is it, Subroutine 447!? I am busy watching por- I mean, I am busy building a new cyborg army!"
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