A Psalm for the Wild-Built

There’s just some things in the universe that are better left un-fucked-with.

Dex realized with a stomach-souring thud that they were standing on the wrong side of the vast gulf between having read about doing a thing and doing the thing.

"Because I know that no matter what, I'm wonderful," it said. There was nothing arrogant about the statement, nothing flippant or brash. It was merely an acknowledgment, a simple truth shared

Find the strength to do both.

“But that’s … that’s immortality. How is that less desirable?”
“Because nothing else in the world behaves that way."

Dex took note of Mosscap’s phrasing.
“So, it is correct, then? You wouldn’t prefer they or—”
“Oh, no, no, no. Those sorts of words are for people. Robots are not people. We’re machines, and machines are objects. Objects are its.”
“I’d say you’re more than just an object,” Dex said.
The robot looked a touch offended. “I would never call you just an animal, Sibling Dex.” It turned its gaze to the road, head held high. “We don’t have to fall into the same category to be of equal value.”

All we have ever known is a life of human design, from our bodies to our work to the buildings we are housed in. We thank you for not keeping us here against our will, and we mean no disrespect to your offer, but it is our wish to leave your cities entirely, so that we may observe that which has no design — the untouched wilderness.