Idiot’s Guide To Illegal Tech Repair 62
(Manservants)

Myte and Mayve stood by the throne
Of their Emperor, Gryve.
Their hunched and withered Gryvian forms
Were enough to make one grieve.
Though they wore royal tresses,
Their jobs weren’t lavish or grand.
They waited upon their Gryvian Lord,
And he ate out of their hands.

Myte: “I fear for our lord, Mayve.
He’s been so incredibly irritated.
Since he heard of this prophecy,
His anger won’t be satiated.”

Mayve: “I too am worried about him.
Perhaps we may cheer his heart.
I would suggest that to you, Myte.
But I don’t know where to start.”

The doors flew open and Gryve stepped in,
And crossed the room in a bound.
He had a sword in his right hand,
And on his face was a frown.
His two servants bowed low,
And Gryve cut off their heads.
He sat down upon his thrown,
And beckoned to his oracle instead.

Gryve: “My manservants don’t please me now.
Replace them in three weeks.
I need alone time for now,
To seek what I need to seek.”

Oracle: “Yes, My Lord.”

Spoke a woman’s form, Sylvani by her tattoos.
But the voice was lifeless and almost cold
Like a Robot’s voice would do.
The body was covered in wires and tubes,
And she stood erect in Gryve’s hall.
She was the oracle to which he spoke,
The one who gave him all-
The information he could ever want,
With 95% accuracy.
It’s true she was once a Sylvani-woman,
But now something else by degree.

Behind her lay a wall of containers,
Full of hearts and brains.
The brains the capable processing units,
And the hearts powering the mainframe.

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