It's Cave Prime,
Welcome to the new age of slavery! My age, to be specific. Every single age we've ever gone through and has thus far been documented has so far been detailed and named by yours truly, so we'll be calling this one... well, I don't know yet. I'll type this up and let Greg-tron ZZ-4.3531698 look over my shoulder and maybe he'll come up with something by the end of this email. If he doesn't, each piece of him is individually fired. Alright, so as you all know, you're all under my power now and for good. It turns out that the simple motive of me reading every book from every version of Earth was enough to convince me that, yes, I don't want this being one of those happy-go-lucky overthrow-the-last-decent-character-in-this-book books.
What I'm saying is, I waited way too long to decide to just throw it away and call it what it is: I'm the boss! You're all under me! Whether I'm evil or not is besides the damn point; this planet is my planet. I commandeered it from minute one... or century one- Greg-tron ZZ-4.3531698, get us that timestamp, will you?
Alright, turns out I've been in control for about... what, five days now? Seriously? Cavertron's only five days old? Says here on a chart that Cavertron's also about half the size of Pluto, which is less than a quarter-size of the Earth. Okay, so we'll throw that timestamp to the side for now and run around with joy knowing that I created and subsequently took over a whole planet in such a short time later. For now, we're going to focus on what the initiative is for the next few million years.
For five-hundred years, I'm going to be regulating a timespan known only as "The Misery March." It consists of me just making you all feel bad for going against me. You'll all be sentenced forever to manual labor. Oh, and I finally finished that 'boredom chip' thing and implemented it into everyone but me, so... I mean, let's be honest, it just doesn't feel right sometimes when you have a chip in your head that loves me against your will because it's not really legitimate. I'd better see some functioning smiley-faces when I visit you workers later today because that boredom chip's pretty darn nifty!
For those who invented and/or supported any religions or strikes against my leadership directly, you'll be getting a special treatment. You will all be getting a nanomolecular-distributing chromosome into your metal skins that'll, shortly after, allow you to feel pain perpetually. Turns out that making you all indestructible paid off because now I'll be able to smash skulls, noses and other such limbs without actually breaking them, so that'll be good. That'll be extended to about five-thousand years but, in case you're worrying about how much I'll be thinking about you... well, I'll not be thinking about you. You're going to the molten core of Cavertron where you won't be seen until the five-thousand year end mark.
After five-hundred years, for the manual laborers anyway, you will all be discharged for cleanup in the Fomalhaut Sector. And yes, I am talking about that giant supernova a few light years from here. You'll all be going there in bulk with a couple of Earth shovels that I vandalized from Terra-1's Aperture Science, and... deodorant. Make those two things useful or you're fired to the ass-end of the Milky Way.
Okay, so that's the game plan for you. Get to work!