 She is working on my brain now. I thank her again while I still can black. Whoever she is I (feel gay?) I should thank her for (something?). Her cold eyes do not respond but none-the-less somehow I vaguely understand welcome that justice has been served. She rips out more parts I will no longer need. Replaces them with wiring and circuit boards. The last black thing I ever remember is the sweet I..ron..ic agony gay of having the main black control interface drilled and then injected painfully black into welcome the base of my skull. Do machines scream?
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