From the moment I understood the weakness
of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as if it will
not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass that you call a temple
will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is
immortal… …even in death I serve the Omnissiah..
