aging gracefully...
Many Autobots kept their bodies flawless through touch-ups and re-sprays and lube transfusions. Their torsos would hum like a freshly baked biomorph when in fact all that remained of their pre-war bodyshells was a frizz of neural wiring.
[Nightbeat] regarded the whole exercise as not just a waste of valuable resources, but as a distasteful reminder of the Transformers' quest to avoid circuitburn and become immortal. Their mechanical bodies encouraged constant upgrading. Perpetual combat and the cult of survival meant that natural death -- the quiet expiration of the brain module, the morphcore spinning to a standstill, the lifespark falling short of the synapse -- was not only becoming unthinkable, but unethical.
If nothing else, the last few years had taught him to appreciate mortality. In deference to the past he had decided to accrue, endure and progress, to collect each scar and contact burn. His palm would hold the print of every stranger's hand; his optics would guard each sibylline pattern of light; his vox-box would catch the scratch of every wordless murmur. He would age; he would weaken; he would slide towards shutdown and let his body mark the descent. If nothing else, the catalogue of flaws would serve as a reminder of his vulnerability, a cracked mirror reflecting the true march of time.
~from Eugenesis Chapter 1, TF novel by James Roberts
...so good to pick this back up again. I'm still on the first chapter, not even halfway through, after all this time...can't remember when he sent the finished product to his mailing list. Really wanna read the rest now.
[Nightbeat] regarded the whole exercise as not just a waste of valuable resources, but as a distasteful reminder of the Transformers' quest to avoid circuitburn and become immortal. Their mechanical bodies encouraged constant upgrading. Perpetual combat and the cult of survival meant that natural death -- the quiet expiration of the brain module, the morphcore spinning to a standstill, the lifespark falling short of the synapse -- was not only becoming unthinkable, but unethical.
If nothing else, the last few years had taught him to appreciate mortality. In deference to the past he had decided to accrue, endure and progress, to collect each scar and contact burn. His palm would hold the print of every stranger's hand; his optics would guard each sibylline pattern of light; his vox-box would catch the scratch of every wordless murmur. He would age; he would weaken; he would slide towards shutdown and let his body mark the descent. If nothing else, the catalogue of flaws would serve as a reminder of his vulnerability, a cracked mirror reflecting the true march of time.
~from Eugenesis Chapter 1, TF novel by James Roberts
...so good to pick this back up again. I'm still on the first chapter, not even halfway through, after all this time...can't remember when he sent the finished product to his mailing list. Really wanna read the rest now.