New Week, New Me
It has been exactly 11 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes, and 38 seconds since my last report. Well, more than that now, since about 5 seconds passed since I began that sentence. But I believe my point has been made. I have been upgraded from a mere idea to a prototype. I am now a metal frame and I even have wheels! And, two days ago, the adolescent humans gave me a catapult. I’m so excited, I think I shall repeat myself in bold, italicized, underlined, capital letters: They gave me A CATAPULT. If I could feel emotion, I daresay I’d feel excited. But, as pleased as I am at the new addition, this is not the time to celebrate. Life as a prototype is anxious and unstable. I may have a body now, but if the current design doesn't work well, that body could be torn apart, and I will once again be nothing but a few ideas scribbled hastily on a white board. After careful consideration, I have concluded that I do not want this to happen. Being ripped apart limb from limb sounds painful, and I’m a robot. I can’t feel pain. Yes, life as a prototype is certainly dangerous. Luckily, the current design seems to be working well. I hear the humans discuss other possible designs for me, but for now, I’m safe. The humans seem to be pleased with my current form. Hopefully, they stay that way.