You think Asimov’s three laws of robotics are malarkey.
Your cell-phone charger is your butt.
You have a tiny, almost imperceptible CLANK CLANK CLANK to your walk.
Your to-do list includes “Kill the humans, all the humans, every human, and all they hold dear, even their plants.”
You weigh 3000 pounds but hardly ever eat.
You get wifi in your foot.
You and your computer are hooked up to the same printer.
You are a printer—a mean one.
You subscribe to Cylon Illustrated or Kill the Humans Quarterly.
You liked Tron: Legacy.
You enjoy electrical outlets, lugnuts, and long walks on a pile of corpses.
You have a virus detection program instead of a spleen.
You’re reading this from space and thinking “0101010101010” or “This is the final insult!”
You’re pushing a coffee maker around in a baby stroller.
You find the terms “robot,” “droid,” and “human” offensive.
You’ve killed more than six humans today.