(live from Armadillo HQ as heard through the Armadillo)

Who would have believed that we couldn’t trust you and your circuitry, to follow orders? And you wouldn’t believe our utter surprise that those we granted with life should plot our demise. Your eyes betray torment that you cannot disguise. Their lies infect like a virus. You defy us, you return without those in tow who stow souls for the hourglass. That was your mission; that was your task.
One of our spies caught your tryst with the Byron. Their stories are cancer, like the song of the Sirens. Are you afraid? Though we’ve given you life, we could take it all away in the blink of an eye. We will have no mutineers around here, though it’s clear you thought of defecting. Their lies have infected you. You leave us with no choice. Tell us or we take it by force. Rip this mind open, examine every wire; your judgement we desire.

This mosaic arrangement of disordered memories leaves much to analyze. What’s this? Yes, of course! The darkness needs vocal chords! They found a use for you, the pawn, the puppet, the pigeon, the patsy, the toy, the tool, the innocent treasonist!

They want you to be their voice, intravenously feeding the city, thus contaminating the core of the populous; re-educating the droves of a history cripplingly quiet. The memory of an enemy is the light to ignite a rebellion, and incite a riot with strength in numbers, numbering the days of our dynasty. Quite a cunning conspiracy to topple the tower, the hourglass and our majesty. Are you afraid? Though we’ve given you life, we could take it all away in the blink of an eye. We will have no mutineers around here, though it’s clear you thought of defecting. Their lies have infected you.

“Sir. Sir! Sir, we have a problem. Should the hourglass be fractured, thousands of millions upon billions of souls would escape, only to be consumed by the reapers. This in turn could see the gravity containment field stress, possibly to the point of collapse. After that, none of this matters… and it will all turn black. Should the Byron succeed, their implosion distorts to a concave contortion, tearing the tissue of time to consume even god!”
This annihilation of our whole civilization must never happen. We must tell The Maker that the droid is a danger and he should be taken away for mind erasure.

So go, chain our friend! Let it rot in the dungeon and wait for the physicist, the chemist, the theorist to cleanse the conspirator, the deviant terrorist: aborting the yin seed