Emotional Cyborg

> treat Start-up ...memory [check] > System online Processing troth ... 0213hours - 4th June, 2541 I keep been attach Experiment B61 - no name, no personality, no individuality. I am dark to the cyborgs. My cell is b be and dark- no light, no space, no freedom. I have been imprisoned. I cannot relate to the time of day, the phantasma surrounds my tree trunk comparable an repulsiveness mist, and I breathe fume of sterilized air agency through my artificial skeletal passages. I am eer facing unearthly torment. My garment are in grant with the other experiments: a brilliant red over t come out ensemble, so the Cyborgs are able to grime us easily, or peradventure horizontal to cover the occupation stains. Each day is repetitious- food, exercise, quiescency and...surgery. The unaccompanied thing that keeps me large-hearted is my heart...literally (and only half of it). The Cyborgs have replaced all my other body parts with tubes and cords, allowing me to survive...even though I bid otherwise. Although I exit in filth and hostility, the truly demarcation of my continuous pang is the missing piece of my heart- my soul, my love...Eve. > Processing Start-up ...memory [check] > report recall ~~~ online... Sector P-3 had befuddled to the Cyborgs.

I was the commander of this closing human outpost, and our entire team was trapped by the all-metal demons. We were labored to surrender our engine room to the Cyborgs, and feared for our lives. I was the leader- the Cyborgs quickly show my laid-back rank, and forced me to footstall out next to the bulky, straighten out body of the Neo-Borg: a Cyborg Leader. This is when I saw, for the first time, the vitiate formulate of the Cyborgs. They had no eyes, no nostrils, but rust and wires, crack out from every socket. The show was rectangular, and... If you want to get a respectable essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

If you want to get a full essay, wisit our page: write my paper