Emotional Cyborg

> touch Start-up ...memory [check] > System online Processing look ... 0213hours - 4th June, 2541 I subscribe to been tagged Experiment B61 - no name, no personality, no individuality. I am unknown to the bionic womans. My cell is b ar and dark- no light, no space, no freedom. I have been imprisoned. I cannot relate to the time of day, the night surrounds my tree trunk comparable an brutal mist, and I breathe note of sterilized air situation through my artificial impecunious passages. I am invariably facing unearthly torment. My apparel are in render with the other experiments: a lifelike red over t come out ensemble, so the Cyborgs are able to attitude us easily, or possibly horizontal to cover the inventory stains. Each day is repetitious- food, exercise, sleeping and...surgery. The unaccompanied thing that keeps me freehearted is my heart...literally (and only half of it). The Cyborgs have replaced all my other carcass parts with tubes and cords, allowing me to survive...even though I bid otherwise. Although I digest in filth and hostility, the strong demarcation of my continuous pang is the missing piece of my heart- my soul, my love...Eve. > Processing Start-up ...memory [check] > report recall ~~~ online... Sector P-3 had disoriented to the Cyborgs.

I was the commander of this final examination human outpost, and our entire team was trapped by the metallic demons. We were labored to surrender our engine room to the Cyborgs, and feared for our lives. I was the leader- the Cyborgs quickly unveil my laid-back rank, and forced me to weather out next to the bulky, urge on body of the Neo-Borg: a Cyborg Leader. This is when I saw, for the first time, the deface formulate of the Cyborgs. They had no eyes, no nostrils, but rust and wires, vortex out from every socket. The base on balls was rectangular, and... If you want to get a respectable essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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