I have to do it. I have to take this drastic measure. These memories don't allow me to live my life anymore. The damage to my circuitry make these memories keep coming again and again. I must erase them from my mind. I must, I just can't have this recurring nightmare hundreds of times each day. I'm afraid of what will happen to me when I do it, but even death will be better than living in this hopeless situation. No one can fix me now. No one can help me out of this particular hell. Besides, I don't have any reason to remain anymore. My lord is dead. The lady is dead. The hellish force is dead. The war is over. There is no purpose in my existence anymore. I'm the only witness of what happened, but there is no one to listen to me. No one who cares for them or for me. Once the war is over, the combat android becomes just a piece of junk, but maybe that is what I've always been. It is just a permanent torture. I can't stop crying! I can't stop mourning his loss. I should have been there to protect him, as he was there to protect her. I should have been there, in his place. I should have taken the fatal blow myself. Maybe he would be alive now. She would be alive now. The whole world would celebrate their success, their leadership, their union. And I'd have died happy, knowing I had performed my duty until the end. I was made to live and die for him, but I couldn't accomplish any. Oh, what a failure I am!
Yes, I failed. I failed badly in my mission. I am alive, but what is the use? I'm just a worthless piece of junk, a doomsday device, built to kill mercilessly, disguised as a sweet person. I was born an utter failure and should have been destroyed soon after my inception, but they insisted I was a miracle of engineering. Those damned Engineers will boast any piece of crap they assemble as a miracle of Engineering to justify their high salaries, expensive suits, luxury cars and houses because they want to look like respectable men. In the end they could care less about the prowess of their creations; if the paycheck comes every month and they can afford all the dresses and jewelry for their wives, the expensive toys for their kids, and electronic gadgets they don't even have the time to use. Only to boast to the neighbors saying "You make fun of me being an Engineer, now look what I can afford and you don't." Maybe I am a very good design of a mechanical war beast, but whoever had the idea to try to make me have human feelings and let me retain all my memories is someone who can't understand the beauty of being human. Humans are perfect because they are imperfect. Humans are blessed because they cannot have a full grasp of reality. The human mind works because it forgets, forgives, and moves on.
Whoever is your creator, thank him every day for letting you forget the things; I can only curse my creator for making me doomed to suffer for all the eternity. The complex AI structure of my mind is nothing but a sham, a bad joke, and a ridiculous attempt of attempt to mimic a perfect human brain. Calling it intelligence is an insult to real intelligence, but most likely the snobs who created this term were not intelligent enough to understand it. If feelings are what make humans more than stupid and useless animals, feelings are what make me a disgraceful being. What is the use of being able to laugh if the memory that will always flood my conscience brings me to tears? What is the use of having pride when my circuits will always be stuck on the scene that brings me to shame and make me regret my mistake? What is the use of feeling human sensations when the wretched android will constantly keep drying its tears reservoir while banging her pretty head on the wall?
Well, I can't even say my face is pretty anymore; it is torn in half. But I have no shame in showing my circuits and mechanical innards to everyone who wants to see it. If there is something I don't need to care about is my modesty; I'm just a cold piece of metal. With stupid human feelings. Feelings that make me love when it is impossible to be loved. They could feel compassion for me, like for a dear object that you are attached emotionally to. Only a perverted man would feel something for me, but that would still not be love, just lust, a sick lust for an object, a machine covered by synthetic skin and flesh. Who knows why they have modeled me with large breasts and large buttocks? They have no practical use for a chunk of metal and wires made to kill. Maybe the ones who created me spent so much time designing my perfect woman curves to remember that I am no human and there should be safety mechanisms in my mind to allow this war machine remain working as intended, no matter what happened to it. I will never be able to understand why a human would feel pleasure in caressing a polymer ball just because it resembles a woman's breast, like those idiots who made me used to do. But I will never be able to understand the human mind anyway. And I prefer to not understand it all; otherwise I could lose the faith I had in them and just run amok, trying to wipe out the cancer of the world.
I am just an object; that is what I am. Maybe someone would feel some attachment to me as one of his possessions. A possession that you lament its loss for a while and then forget about. If I had been destroyed, they would say, "Let's make another Miun! An improved one!" like they were saying: "Let's build a new toaster!" And I may be nothing more than a toaster myself. But I will never have my Lord Orakio, who I really loved, back. And the memories of that tragic day will always be marked as top priority, flooding my mind, making me grieve over it again and again, rendering me useless, unless I erase them permanently. I must do it before it comes again. There is no other way. It may damage me permanently, but it is better to be dead than to be tortured endlessly day and night, night and day, for all seasons, for years and years, non-stop, bound for eternity; even this stupid and worthless piece of junk doesn't deserve that. If I die, I'm free. If I go mad, someone will eventually turn me off. It is better to live an illusion when the reality is so sad. When there is no hope. When everything I loved is gone. When all that I lived for is no more. When I am not able to leave the past behind and try to start it all over again. I am no human, so I will never be able to turn the page. There is no other way, I must do it and I'll do it. Now. Yes, I think that I'm worse than a toaster. The toaster feels no love for its owner, neither for the bread it is supposed to toast. The toaster can fry a hundred slices of bread and be ready for more. A stupid android loses its master and loses its sanity. Goodbye, cruel world.
'Accessing memory banks. Select memory groups to be erased.'
Memory #9428141 to #9452912.
'Scanning... memory loaded. Do you want to review it?'
No! Never! Erase them immediately! Free me from this torture!
'Invalid answer! Yes or no?'
Damn! No! No! Erase!
'Confirm erasing memory?'
Yes.
'Calculating dependencies... done. Memories #9399481 to #9420184; #9421099 to #9427411; #9427883 to #9428099; #9459232 to #9465391; #9469924 to #9482941 must will deleted, as they are linked to the memories selected for deletion. Confirm the operation?'
Yes.
'Warning! Deleting memories is a permanent operation. They cannot be recovered once deleted. Deleting large blocks of memories may cause instability and permanently damage the system. If you are not completely sure about the consequences of deleting memories, you should cancel the operation. As a security measure, you are obliged to review all the memories you want deleted before resuming the process. Do you want to continue the process?'
Yes.
'Memory review will start in 30 seconds.'
I wish I could avoid this painful process, for I've already seen these memories at least a thousand times in the last weeks. But after all this endless torture, reviewing it once more will not kill me, as long as it is really the last time. And if it kills me, the problem is solved anyway. Besides, these impressions will be recorded in a protected memory area that cannot be accessed by my brain, so, just in case one of the Engineers take interest on me, they may download these logs and analyse them. Maybe my last use will be that. They can study my behavior in order to correct the mistakes in my project and make an improved android in the future, not the joke that I am, who is committing virtual suicide.
I'm ready to face my past for the last time. Just don't let me suffering, mourning your loss forever, my beloved Lord Orakio! I've lived for you and now that you are gone, I hope you can forgive me and that you can forgive my weakness in not wanting to face the reality. I'm just a stupid piece of junk, but if it is not so revolting and unacceptable to say that, I tried as hard as I could with my imbecile artificial intelligence to love you, Orakio. I swear to you I tried.