A Randroid's tears make the bitterest brew and its smiles the softest fleece. What as a human there is no capacity to experience--no inclination or desire to feel--as an automaton manifests with incalculable fervor. Music renders as an aural caress, replacing tonal sequence with melodic sensuality. Image achieves emotional depth untouchable by human depravity--as the sacred becomes the sacred: And the profane the profane. Experiences slide into focus through steel eyes, flaring in the naked exposure of an inward gaze. It's as if darkness receded in requisite fear when this Godless Machine turned its heart toward the west to make a valiant approach. Touched by it all and touching it all, this iron(ic) giant drowns even-the-Ark with a robot's oily tears. And like a trampoline in the rain, the liquid returns to the sky--if only for a second and only to end up puddled, nonetheless--a striking moment of defiance. A moment for the best within us.

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