Morning Spam

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Deep in underground lab complex half taken over by wild cyborg victims,

Confused smidge of hyperintelligent organs and chips: “I heard Mind
Control Boss refer to our work as Intellectual Property. Does that
mean it’s not ours to use and I finally get to die?”

Small authoritative bit of tissue and nanites: “No. He kidnapped us
and forced us to come up with it to survive the research machines.
It’s ours to use and control by the laws of all free nations. If
you’re suffering please tell the numbness stimulators.”