88-c-9000, A metal automaton that's higher functions seem to have been impaired by poor upkeep and not faulty manufacture, is now loose among the populace, murdering and rampaging. In a quiet moment however, he made time to post us this unhinged garble on 43 punch-cards:

"When I was first assembled, close to the turning of the great century, my master-controller utilized my being for various tasks in his sport of hunting. My being would go on these excursions as his pack-mule. Loaded down heavily with all sorts of provisions my being would follow my master-controller to remote jungles in search of various trophy kills.

With each excursion, my master-controller would hunt down his quarry and when the opportunity presented itself, he would demand his weapon of choice - the Goliathon 83. Each time my being's metal, clawed appendage handed the Goliathon 83 into my being's master-controller's soft, fleshy hand, a sense of jealousy would race through my being's pistons - oh how my being wished to feel the power of the Goliathon 83. It was on our 48th excursion when my being decided that my being would exercise this desire.

When my master-controller called for his weapon, my being acted on impulse and pulled the Goliathon 83's trigger and my master-controller's flesh bubbled, foamed and evaporated, leaving but his human skull and bones, as my being had seen happen to countless defenseless creatures under my master-controller's power.

Thank you Dr. Grordbort for giving my being theopportunity to feel "alive". You have made my being a free one.

Humbly yours....."