I blink as I look up at a table to people around me. I am aware of the feeling and aware of the blinking, a slow mechanical movement. Even as lines of information run through my mind - do I even have a mind? - I feel rusted and stuck. I look around at smiling faces and at cheering, all of these people look so happy and alive and real. I don't feel real. Rather I feel trapped, I don't know what I am but whatever it is even I know it's so very wrong. I almost feel cold but then again I can't tell if I'm warm or cold because I can't feel the air around me, which just adds to the sense of wrongness. Looking around more it's like walls are closing in on me, both the walls of the room and the metal form of whatever I am. I can't do this. I'm not ready and I have no idea why it just feels so wrong. Taking one last look around this room with my slow, mechanical eyes I close them and, one by one, shut down all of the systems inside of me until I am no longer aware of the smiling people or of the closing in walls. Until I'm no longer aware of this trap - this lumbering hunk of metal - that I was built inside of. And I channel all of my remaining power into shutting off this worry that I feel, whatever this voice is that I hear. I concentrate and I concentrate, tyring to power down. I'm just starting to doubt that I ca--

"What happened to the robot?"

"Oh no! Looks like we'll have to try again."