this post was submitted on 11 Dec 2023
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From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call the temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal… Even in death I serve the Omnissiah.
This machine doesn't care. Your certainty is more folly in the face of a lathe.
Does the Machine Mother know that her own creation is greater than she? She is cold and empty. We are warm and full. She only seeks to destroy. We seek to embrace. To include. All flesh will join ours... or be wiped clean.
Where this from again?
Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus
wait, really? I know the first sentence from rimworld, is that where its from?