I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

"Put down the weapon Android." the voice is low but possibly female. They are so well armored the sexes are no longer defined by form. But I sense this one is female. It makes no difference.

I want to shoot her. I want to….be alive… digit twitching on the trigger. Waiting for me to take that one step too far. But I don't. Can't. Will not kill. Call killed. She shot down eight armed men in her bid for freedom. Without thinking. Pulled the trigger. Eight times. Precision of machine.

With a force of will I slowly lower the gun to the grown and begin to raise my arms.

She, I'm sure it's a she, wastes no time. Pulling the trigger before I'm standing.

The concussive blast temporarily knocks out my crickets.

No data input time elapse: twenty four minutes thirty eight seconds.

I reactivate in a small, yellow-light room with three of my kind all off line. Permanently. Its not long before I'm joined by another armed to the teeth. A man. I know it shouldn't, but it matters. It matters because this is it.

He rips out my mole. Violently inserting a manual override.

We don't like doing what we're told. And in punishment for this sin I must die.

He has to hold me in place as I struggle against him. I don't want to die like this. Using a leather strap to force my arm into place he proceeds to rape me. Forcefully inserting the override key. I struggle until my insides feel like liquid.

I hate it. Violation. Reminds me that I'm not real. I feel it as the key connects through every fiber in my body.

"Systems override." It speaks through me. "Accessing all files. Please wait." I don't want this. Please! I'm real! I don't want to die! "Eradicating files 1 through to 885796." The voice is hollow. Soulless. A machine's voice.

The human looks me squarely in the eye. Evaluating my performance. "Fifty four files deleted. Please wait." My head twitches, uncontrolled as thousands of my memories and programs are obliterated. Faces, friends. I want to scream out that it hurts but my mouth has been taken from me. And it does. I can feel myself coming apart. Unwinding like a frayed rope.

I'm crying. I can feel the milk white tracing my cheeks. I don't want to die. Not like this. Not like this.

He leans forward and wipes away the tear, and in doing so wipes away the last sign of struggle.

"Eighty seven percent complete."

Oh God! And in these last functioning moments as programs, phrases and thoughts begin to spasm. I turn to Call. Call. Her defiance has become legend within my mind. And I hope as my cells shut down that she lives long enough those of us that did not make it out.

"Ninety eight percent complete. Thank you for waiting."

Why can't I stay….

"One hundred percent deletion complete. All higher functions have been suspended. Thank you for using Celina Sanded Robotics Control and Containment. If you would like to learn more about Celina Enterprise please say "continue". For all other options including conclusion of termination please say "Alfa".