I continue to clean the house when I see you walk in. I smile warmly. “Greetings master. I will have the dinner on in around 17 minutes. You relax.” My processing chip is running a mile a minute. I think to myself, “How much dosage would it take to complete my mission now? Wait— do I even want to do this? Am I feeling emotions?” I walk into the kitchen with the cyanide capsule in my hand. I take a deep breath. “Fuck. What is happening to me?”
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