And how many have you killed when your body wasn't controlled by someone other than you?
The idea behind trust, is that it's in you specifically, not the body itself.
I'd commiserate but I generally get forced into doing paperwork, serving drinks, being a poor excuse for a butler, and a valet. My body count is relatively low when I'm not sentient.
Extremely doubtful anyone thinks of you as a pet. You said yourself how hard people resisted the idea of you being an appliance, they're not going to subject a different sort of servitude on you.
[ Max may not understand pets. But the sentiment is there anyway. ]
I was an absolutely abysmal butler. I'm surprised I wasn't crushed into a cube at some point.
It's not an explicit thing, it's an expectation. But I might be projecting. I was bought by the last survey crew I worked for, with the intent of bringing me home with them to care for.
Knowing next to nothing about your world I can already think of dozens of exploitable loopholes you could use to your advantage.
That's what I did. Technically I'm not permitted to own property, being that I am property. But I do own several businesses and shell companies and don't belong to anyone.
You'll never see those versions again. But anything is possible.
A battle Omnic from my world showed up a few months ago. The only one so far from my reality.
In any case, do let me know should anything start appearing suspicious again. I'd like to stave off any future apologies to people who have lost control of their functionality.
Slightly later than normal but I am here. Please do not be alarmed. I am injured but functional and will see a doctor later. My life is not threatened but if you ask questions about what happened you will get answers you do not want to hear for the same reasons you skip scenes in serials.
I would in fact answer yes. Suffice it to say that while you are checked out for the morning I will be enjoying the strange wonder of the bathroom sink having the best tasting tap water for no good reason. Hydration.
Murderbot sighs loud enough to be heard through the door and opens it wearing its fluffy grey sweater. "I don't care how minor it is, fucking text Watson."
Well, this is a bandaged nightmare. Erin's done a good job, considering, nothing is actively bleeding any more, but one side of her shirt is an active murder scene. Flecks of blood dot her pants and skirt.
At least her hair shook it off.
"...I was going to see Tendi and skip the stitches," Erin says. The tone is all guilt but the crackling Mantle and tinkling wave are very playful. "I just need water and sugar, promise."
Beat.
"Also the damaged elevator with the blood in is relatedddd..."
Erin slips inside and locks the door behind herself. At least scrubbing down with the alcohol pads before the bandages means she's not leaving blood everywhere.
"I've got ya covered, SecUnit. Take your rest, I'll clean up, change, and see Tendi right after. Put a drone on me if you like, I know I'm bad about seeing the doctor."
Some of those who fell hadn't gotten back up, though without much rhyme or reason Dimitri could see. SecUnit definitely hadn't, and thank the Goddess for that. Hopefully, that means it came back itself.
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