Written by David Mogolov
Photo: © Depositphotos.com/trans961
Dear Professors Green, Heckle, and Schmertz,
It is with a mixture of sadness, relief, and boundless rage that I write you with my intention of quitting my studies here at the Kyle Reese Memorial Institute for Robotics. Though I have greatly benefited from my coursework, and have enjoyed the early-90s software retail futurism of the school’s decor, it is clear to me that my time would be better spent buried up to my neck in sand, wondering which will get me first–the incoming tide, or the predaceous ants–than it would be spent here, responding to your and my classmates’ commentary on my work. Were I to perish on the beach, my corpse would at least serve some ecological purpose.
Before I quit the premises, I would like to take this opportunity to hand off my ongoing responsibilities and projects. Consider this a living will.
To Professor Prostate, my instructor in Introduction to Advanced Robotics, I leave a slightly-damaged but easily repairable medical triage robot. It’s in a crate near the loading dock, returned from a successful stint helping victims of hypothermia who fled North Korea by sea. I was unable to make time for its repair due to my assignment running the cakewalk fundraiser for Professor Prostate’s children’s school. The robot can probably fulfill that job in future years, though it is just intelligent enough that it will probably do the job poorly, out of a sense of resentment.
To my classmates Brock, Chaz, and Chandler, I leave Handy, the 1:3 prototype field surgical robot that they so loved for its abilities as a sex toy. I believe that between them they possess sufficient knowledge to complete the repair work necessary after they burnt it out after “the big spill.” While the prototype never got the opportunity to show its stuff in a construction yard, due to the aforementioned spill, it is my sincere hope that they explore Handy’s voice commands, which are littered with undiscovered Easter Eggs. Brock, particularly should be on the lookout, as Handy is ready to execute custom-made entertainments for the gentleman who so kindly and uninvitedly modeled his anatomy for the purpose.
To my advisor, Professor Jortz, I leave my unfinished graduate project, Betty the MakeupBot. While I was initially reluctant to take on the Betty project, seeing as I’m here specifically to advance medical robotics technology, I’m a team player and recognized that the research grant from Maybelline was an important one for the Institute. I’m delighted to inform you that Betty is now capable of applying skilled department-store makeovers, but there’s a funny glitch that occurs every three makeovers: it seems that MakeupBot converts into a feedback-sensitive defibrillation unit and can’t return to its cosmetic function until it has been used to save at least four lives. I don’t know where Betty gets it from. Maybe she’s born with it.
Lastly, to the Dean of Students, Ted: Go fuck yourself. That wasn’t a date, it was a research presentation.
It is my intention to take the skills and knowledge I’ve squandered in your company, and apply them to literally any other thing that can be done on this Earth.
Praying for the Singularity,
Lily
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David Mogolov put this site together. He’s a writer, comedian, and monologist who tweets at @davidmogolov. His new show, CLENCHED, will be at Under St. Marks in NYC Feb. 19 – March 4, 2016.
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