blood lottery

suavebot, created by the enigmatic and seemingly all-knowing Dr. Huxley Brosnon, to socialize and win over potential fundraiser supporters for his robotechnology products

however, everyone seemed to be interested in suavebot. There was never enough of it, the world needed more of it, and brosnon's other creations immediately lacked the social luster that suavebot brought to the world around it. Curing cancer be damned, they needed more of suavebot, in the media, in the home, even in the bathroom

frustrated, dr. brosnon cast suavebot into subspace, where nothing and everything exists. Nothing is conscious, nothing can talk, but you understand everything yet still question

this understasnding is useless to a robot whose only programmed desire is to be among peers, and share the stories of the world around it. Even if it can question it, suavebot has nobody to debate the facts with

desolate, angry and poor, dr. brosnon, the only mind able to unlock subspace and suavebot within, committed suicide by his own hands by creating a paradoxical blockage in his frontal lobe, forever damning suavebot to a cold, lonely hell to wander about



suavebot's world is nothing short of a nightmare



but dammit if he doesn't look smooth as FUCK