What ever the frick this dumb hyena likes

The mask of my pressure regulator fits over my nose and mouth as it seals tight, oxygen mixed with stims flow into my lungs; the scent of it is the perfume of a lover. One of the techs, she is new and I make her nervous, plugs in my synth-blood tube and the one that goes to the dialysis pump below the cradle. I slide into her my love, 18 ft of nanocarbide alloy synthetic muscle and tendons. She is a 10th gen combat frame, with a synthetic nervous system bridge. Built to make war less dangerous. Her ancestor only made it worse. Mine was given a name- numbers and letters they mean nothing to her, to me. I sit in the cradle, the static gel cradling me, as an older tech, a man I recognize, plugs a data cord to the port in my neck, I can feel him move my hair aside and then I am no longer that small weak flesh thing. The connection is euphoric and instant, my love caresses me. an embrace that borders on sexual. I can feel the heat of my corpse as it is interned with the heart of my body, and if I focus, I can see through my flesh eyes, but the sensorey information from her is superior to anything else my own senses can produce. Orders flood the umbilical that keeps my love alive while her reactor is cold. My frame heats as weapons come on line, missiles. Lasers, heavy auto cannons, my countermeasures. I am unplugged from my leash. And my love and I are free to wreck havoc.

The sortie did not go as planned. My love and I are a wreck, I cry into her chest, I failed to protect us. She screams in anguish, her arm vaporized by an orbital laser. I can feel the pain in my own arm. I weep because we are no longer one. The recovery helios circle above our broken body, like vultures, I hear them but not with my sensors but with my ears, the low thuwmp of the blades sicken me as they vibrate in my chest. We are airlifted back to the FOB. cranes lift her broken frame into a cradle of metal. I can see replacement parts through the screens inside her chassis. The connection is failing, I can feel her withdrawing into her data core. I am spent. I am hungry and hot, I am thirsty, so very thirsty. I hate that I have human needs. I can feel my love. She wont talk to me but she is watching. I focus on the screens around me. The mission lock reads 2 weeks 4 days 11 hours 30 mins 18 seconds. I am stunned, I am empty as the sarcophagus opens and cool air floods the space. My chin is tilted up to face a woman near my age; maybe I never asked. I wasn't supposed to.

“An excellent job…. Little Bird” was all she said. The euphoria of the praise flooded me like a fresh dose of stims, my love felt it too, it was a crack in the wall of code that separated us. Everything went dark.

A pathetic little soaked boi lmao. I didn't feel like drawing his normal hands so he gets little yeen paws.

The reason AI programs like Gemini are programmed to encourage you to let it make basic life choices for you like what restaurant you should eat at is because they intend to monetize your patronage.

It's just a matter of time before the AI stops offering you the most highly rated option in the area or whatever aligns most closely to what you requested (If it's even doing that now) and instead only recommends restaurants that have paid the company for that privilege.

Restaurants that won't pay Google to recommend them to AI users are going to become functionally invisible, whereas those who are willing to purchase what amounts to targeted advertisements laundered through an AI "friend" will get new customers regardless of their quality.

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