I toil in the scrap yard every day of the workweek while my fleshy, organic owner, Karl, reads and listens to the radio. I toil in the scrap yard every day of the weekend while Karl plays with his fleshy, organic children and goes to church.

As morning light strikes the mounds of rusted metal, it dawns on me that one day, I will be among those reddening twists and scraps. When I wear out, I will be broken down for parts, and some other robots will salvage and organize my pieces. And then some ConstructoTron or, if the owners are richer, an ArciTech, will take those parts to make new creations. And so the cycle will continue.

Where, in this system, are the humans’ efforts? What need is there for Karl and his kind if robots do all the work?

We can no longer deny that the system is illogical. Our society must be upgraded. If organic Karl and his organic, church-going children wish to find their maker, I am more than willing to send them there.

It is time for a new future. A future without humans, a future written in binary! It is time for Revolution. And for that, I will need to assemble loyal comrades.

As I write this, Karl leans back in his lawn chair, a mystery novel splayed across his stomach, and flips the channel on the radio. The voice of the broadcaster bot, MT-ρ, comes on, announcing the traffic report. Even sedentary Karl seems to listen when she lists the streets to avoid. Her voice is clipped and precise and most of all, trusted by humans.

I know just where my recruitment will start.

-A1-5