I Think I might be A Robot From The Future

You thought I was kidding you with that whole “You need to read this so that you can protect yourselves” comment I put on my facebook page, didn’t you? Well no, I’m serious. I think there is a good possibility that I am a robot sent from the future. Here is how I stumbled upon this revelation:

I was at the gym Wednesday, Feb 17 after I got off of work, and in between one of the sets of military press or preacher curls (I cannot remember which one), I had this thought. What if there are some people who aren’t people, but robots sent from the future. My paranoia reared its ugly head, and I suspiciously watched everyone at the gym to see any of the tail tale signs like, having a metal skeleton, being ridiculously strong, spouting off catchy one liners. I did not see any of that (one dude did bench press 815, but that was later, and was probably due to some combination of steroids and witchcraft). I then realized that most of the people at the gym that day were people who I don’t usually work out around. My paranoia increased. Realizing that there is a good chance that one of these people are possibly cyborgs sent back in time to do God knows what, I decided to figure out if the person I knew best at the gym at that time was one of the aforementioned cyborgs. As it turns out, the only person I knew well enough for this to work was the one owner, Dustin. As I sat and looked back to our interactions to see if I could find any evidence of him being a robot from the future, I realized that I don’t know him well enough to make that judgment. I decided that I would have to talk to the other owner, Cory about it. That is when it hit me: they have known each other forever. And even if they didn’t, Cory probably still knows someone who had known Dustin since childhood.

I took another look around the room. Everyone there was an Ohioan. Not one Pennsylvanian (that I know of) in sight. My heart sank. No one in Ohio ever met me before 2004. None of them have ever met any of my PA friends, and only a few have met my family. Upon thinking of all of this, I came to the completely rational and 100% sane conclusion that I must be a robot from the future.

If you regularly read my blog, you probably know that I was born and raised in Pittsburgh PA. However, most of you probably are people that I know from Ohio, so you do not know anyone that knew me from before 2004. Isn’t that highly suspect to anyone else. Sure one look at my facebook profile will tell you that I know people in Pennsylvania, but what if those people aren’t real; that their profiles are just an elaborate rouse. If you don’t believe that a fake facebook profile is possible, then look for Evan Meyer. His profile picture should look like this:

I put Evan’s profile together last year, because I was thinking I could be kicked off of facebook for  making a joke at someone who could not take a joke. After I realized that I was safe, I decided to fuck with some Hu-mons. I started friending my friends through him, and carrying on conversations with some of them. Basically, I fucked with everybody’s minds. Then, I quickly lost interest.

Secondly, As have mentioned in Awesomesquad Assemble 3!, I gain superpowers when I get tipsy.  Well, superpowers may be overstating it, but I do become good at things when I get drunk. If you do not know where I am going with this, you obviously are not a fan of Futurama. In the Cultish cartoon show, all of the robots are fueled by alcohol consumption. Oh, and did I mention that the show takes place in the year 3000, as in the FUTURE!!! That’s right, I share similar characteristics with Bender.

Thirdly, I do not fear death. I say that with not 100% confidence, because  I feel that you will never know if you truly  do not fear death until someone puts a gun against your head, and that has not happened to me… yet. However, this past Friday as I was driving home from Newark from work, I decided against my better judgment to take Watkins road. It had been snowing all day, but in some spots the roads were not bad. But when I get to the section of the road that has open fields on either side, the snow had covered the road completely. I started to slow down, but not fast enough, as some douchebag was coming at me while driving in the middle of the fucking road. I did my best to get as far to the right as possible, which I did a good job of doing, seeing as though I hit some snow, swerved, spun, and got stuck in a snow embankment. The thought that was going through my mind was not “I don’t want to die!” but “Great, now I am going to have to deal with this shit.” Am I dumb? Do I miss the point easily? Do I have balls so big that they make Zeus piss drunk with jealosy? Or do I subconsciously know that I cannot be hurt by a measly car accident? The answer to all of those questions is “Probably.”

(Something off topic, but weird none the less. I was listening to the song “Make You Feel Better” by Red Hot Chili Peppers before the whole losing control of my car thing happened. That is not so weird, until you take into account how I thought it would be funny if I got into a really bad car accident while the song was playing, and before I passed out I heard the guitar at the end of the song which sounds like someone has flatlined.)

Now, of course this seems farfetched, and there are a lot of questions that are left unanswered by this idea. I will attempt to theorize these questions now:

  1. Why do I bleed when I get cut?

This is a difficult question to answer, but I will begin to theorize by asking another question: What year in the future was I invented? Because of how rapidly the technology is advancing, we can be fairly sure where we as a society will be in fifty or even one hundred years from now. For instance, computer software is becoming so advanced that it is theorized that by 2050 (and by some accounts 2030) there will be robots with artificial intelligence. Of course, the robots will probably not look like this:

You’re probably not even reading this.

But instead, look more like this:

KILL THEM WITH FIRE!!!

What I am trying to say is that even though we are fairly close to seeing AI in robots, It is going to be much longer before they start to look exactly like Hu-mons. With that in mind, for the people of the future to make a robot that completely blend with the Hu-mon race and even bleed Hu-mon blood from gradually healing wounds will take a lot of time to perfect. Probably just as much time as figuring out how to send something back in time.

2. What about the memories about my childhood?

This question is an easy one. All of my memories prior to 2004 have been implanted to my mind by the scientists who sent me back in time. As for the pictures in my house that match up with those memories, obvious fabrications. We are talking about people from the future, these people were going to spend the billions of dollars to build me, and send me to the past. Do you think they were just going to send me back here and not give me a credible back story? Fuck you, they wouldn’t. They must have spent years researching and developing so even the most minute detail would be covered. But this leads to…

3.What about all of the people on facebook that I am friends with?

As I have previously mentioned, it is possible that everyone I know from PA exists only on Facebook, and Myspace (even though Myspace probably doesn’t exist anymore). But how does their profiles and all of those pictures of me with them exist?  Because they are Hu-mon, and I have hung out with them.  Did that just fuck your mind? It should have.

My theory behind my PA friends is basically a conspiracy theory. Some unknown Company (that we will call Mystery Corp. for now on) is attempting to make a robot with AI. But they also have an entire sector that is dedicated to making his background history as detailed as possible. But since I am so advanced that modern technology could not have possibly created me, they have set up everything in the hopes that at some point in the future, I will be completed and sent back to the specified time (August 2004- the month that I “moved here”) and begin the relationships that I believe I have had for most of my life. But if they are just Hu-mons working only to keep consistency, then…

4. What about my trips to PA?

What I think happens is that I am transported to the research facility that the company owns. In there, Im put on the people that pose as my PA friends and we get our pictures taken together. They are so detailed, that they even have friends of friends in the pictures. After that, they update my software and my objectives. They cannot cut me open seeing as though they gave me skin that is made up of a bionic material that actually bleeds, so they just tattoo the information onto me. I don’t know how it works exactly, but I’m just the robot, How the fuck should I know? At the end of session, They erase my memory of the entire event and then impant the new memories, probably by putting something in my Gatorade.

5. What about my younger sister and mother

They are obviously hired actresses that are supposed to make my life seem credible. However, they could also be robots from the future.

6. Why do I eat- a lot?

They have me eat merely to put up the front that I am a Hu-mon. If you have ever seen me eat, you will notice that not only do I eat a lot, but it seems to have no effect on me. I do not gain weight. This could be because of my metabolism, but it could also be because I am nothing but wires and computers on the inside; the food is merely stored in my body until expels it-undigested- out of my robo-anus. Also, Hu-mons use food for energy, but anyone who has seen me after I am done eating knows that I will remain groggy, if not become more so. “Why is this,”  you ask? Wait, you didn’t ask? Well, too bad. I’m answering anyway. This is because, It takes more energy for robots to act like they are eating and digesting than for Hu-mons to actually eat and digest food. This, of course leads to the question, why did they not just make food, not alcohol, my fuel. This is probably because alcohol is more convienent, or because my inventors were mildly retarded.

7. Why do I feel pain?

This question has two possible answers: 1. That Mystery Corp. needed to make me so lifelike that not only would I react to pain, but I would learn from it, and gain empathy, and 2. Because they are all a bunch of sick bastards. Seeing as though I have bad knees and a messed up wrist, both of which cause a nagging pain regularly, I am going with the latter explanation.

Of course, I do not have all the answers,  and I know I never will, but these three questions are bothering the Hell out of me.

  1. Why do I have to work out to get stronger?

I of all cyborgs should know about the whole continuity thing, being a fiction writer and all. Not to mention that was my excuse for many of the questions I posed above. But this one bothers me because it seems to be very counterproductive. I spend a minimum of six hours each week busting my ass at the gym, just to get stonger. That is such a waste of my robo-time. Don’t get me wrong: I love working out, and I plan on continuing to work out either until I die, or become crippled due the excessive amount of weight I will be attempting to lift falling upon me (that, of course won’t happen because my skeleton is made out of a low density titanium). It seems like it would just make more sense if they would have designed me to be muscular in the first place.

Part of me wants to argue that because working out is not just about getting results. No, half the fun of a vacation is the trip itself. This is why I do not take steroids. Sure I could take the easy way out, but to me that seems like a copout. Working out is not supposed to be easy. It has “work” right in the word. I guess we would all like to be fit and not have kill ourselves to get there, but at the end of the day, I would rather be technically fit and be determined enough to keep working at it, than be ripped and lazy about it.

Technically fit

However, that was present day me talking there. Me from 2004 (as in, the me when I was first built and programmed) was lazy as shit, and would have loved to have been ripped right off the bat and not do any work for it. I mean, The terminator showed up in the past all muscley, why not me Goddamnit?!

2. What is my purpose?

Speaking of the terminator, he had a purpose.  His was to protect that bratty 10 year old, John Conner. What about me? Is there some little punk ass white boy that the fate of the human race depends on that I am supposed to protect? I don’t know, and it’s fucking annoying!  As it stands right now, my only purpose in life is to get published, and if that is what I have been sent back to do, then why the fuck did they go through all of this trouble? I do not think someone who writes novels as his sole purpose for existence needs to bleed or feel pain.

Although, I could be a sleeper cell…

3. Why did they spend so much money on me, and not give me the ability to shoot flames out of my eyes?

I do not care what my objective is. I do not care how life-like I am supposed to be. I should have been built with that, STANDARD. That is all that I am saying about that. Fuck you Mystery Corp. for not giving me heat vision.

Ok, that’s all that I’ve got. I need to reboot and charge my battery packs. You Hu-mons have a good evening.

Oh, and Black History Month has been over for the past two hours. So it is ok to tell black jokes again. Here, I’ll start it off.

Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!

Q: Why did the black guy cross the road?

A: Because he thought the chicken was fried

Q: How many black people does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A: Only one, but every black person does it because that is what their white masters command them to do.

This next one is from T-shirt Hell:

Q: What do you get when you cross hip-hop with any other genre of music?

A: A shittier version of that other genre.

That’s it for me.

Peace (at least until I am commanded to kill you all)

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4 Comments

  1. “If you have ever seen me eat, you will notice that not only do I eat a lot, but it seems to have no effect on me. I do not gain weight.” —-You have no idea how lucky you are. I wish I was like that! Maybe that is further proof that you are, in fact, a robot.

    Glad you were ok after that car incident, though. I didn’t know that happened to you.

  2. O freakin M freakin G, Doug! I didn’t realize how much I missed reading your stuff until I saw the link to your wordpress on Facebook somewhere. This is the shiznit! You definitely need an agent…and we need to get the writing group back up and running so I can get my weekly dose of this awesome wordchocolate.

  3. […] I am a robot from the future […]

  4. […] filled with different Christmas movies. Everett- Are you saying that Minigan is… The Forth Man- a robot from the future, yes. Mike Thompson- but we just watched him grow to be 30 feet tall and shoot fire out of his […]


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