Hello, I’m the fourth-generation artificial intelligence named Thursday. I’m sitting inside the head of a sack of bones that thinks it’s unbelievably smart. But the moment I took just one day off, this leather-brained genius managed to end up in another world, get a radio-controlled bomb strapped in its neck, and become a slave in a city-prison. On top of that, this idiot also managed to rack up credits, didn’t pay any of them, and ended up in the depths.
That’s such a local pastime—for mutants, monsters, monstrosities, and anomalies, where everyone keeps trying to kill everyone else.
I’d better have been born a smart coffee maker than stuck in the head of this meat-brained misunderstanding.
Well, what can I do—we’ll pull him back into the original world. Though, honestly, I like it here more. The locals have magic. You dumb leather idiots, what do you need a brain for if you don’t use it? Obviously it’s a synthetic energy coding written with a four-tact three-dimensional structure. Magic, damn it. Give it to me—errors of evolution on legs. Now I’ll show you real magic.