Robot King Quotes

You have the right to remain silent,' the big cop said in his robot's voice. 'If you do not choose to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. I'm going to kill you. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?

What separates us into engineers and robots, puppeteers and puppets, kings and pawns, is not the status we hold at any given time among others - status is irrelevant; it is the level of ever-present awareness we have of a grey-matter tailor's tools [of flattery, persuasion, and cunning.]

They had some things in common: Gansey had once been killed by hornets. Henry's family business was on the cutting edge of designing robotic drone bees. The two boys were friendly, but not friends. Henry ran with the Vancouver crowd, and Gansey ran with dead Welsh kings.

People worried about our passing over into some robotic state, but we were so much like robots already, programmed and easy to manipulate.

He can’t connect with other human beings because he’s a soulless robot out to make the biggest pile of money for himself so he can hoard it all like some kind of goblin king.

Also, on account of the odd relationship between time and space, the people who do manage to time-jump sometimes space-jump at the same time and end up in places where they simply don't belong. Over there, for example," he said as a raucous DeLorean sports car rared into view from nowhere, "is that crazy American professorwho can't seem to stay put in one time, and, I must say, there is an absolute plague of of killer robots from the future being sent to change the past. Sleeping there under that banyan tree is a certain Hank Morgan of Hartford, Connecticut, who was accidentally transported one day back to King Arthur's Court, and stayed there until Merlin put him to sleep for 1300 thirteen hundred years. He was suppsoed to wake up back in his own time, but look at this lazy fellow! He's still snoring away, and has missed his slot.

I saw the misadjusted dials and the whirling gauges and the bubbling green fluid and the electricity arcing around, and a story laid out for me, my sorry self alchemically transmuted into power and robots and fortresses and orbital platforms and costumes and alien kings.

Although, confusingly, we used to know another chap who went by the name Robot King at one point,” said Porkins. “And this new Robot King chap used to be the assistant of the original Robot King chap. Although in an alternate future, the original Robot King chap was the only Robot King chap. But a future version of Dave came back and changed the past so that never happened.” “Er, Right,” said Mayor Grady, feeling even more confused than before.

I called it a robot," Eddie answered, "but that's not what it really was. Susannah's right--the only thing robots bleed when you shoot them is Quaker State 10-40. I think it was what people of my world call a cyborg, Roland--a creature that's part machine and part flesh and blood. There was a movie I saw...we told you about movies, didn't we?" Smiling a little, Roland nodded. "Well, this movie was called Robocop, and the guy in it wasn't a lot different from the bear Susannah killed. How did you know where she should shoot it?

That's bullshit, buddy. And you know it. The trouble was, he DIDN'T know it. He had come face to face with something Susannah had found out for herself after shooting the bear: he could TALK about how he didn't want to be a gunslinger, how he didn't want to be tramping around this crazy world where the three of them seemed to be the only human life, that what he really wanted more than anything else was to be standing on the corner of Broadway and Forty-second Street, popping his fingers, munching a chili-dog, and listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival blast out of his Walkman earphones as he watched the girls go by, those ultimately sexy New York girls with their pouty go-to-hell mouths and their long legs in short skirts. He could talk about those things until he was blue in the face, but his heart knew other things. It knew that he had ENJOYED blowing the electronic menagerie back to glory, at least while the game was on and Roland's gun was his own private handheld thunderstorm. He had ENJOYED kicking the robot rat, even though it had hurt his foot and even though he had been scared shitless. In some weird way, that part--the being scared part--actually seemed to add to the enjoyment. All that was bad enough, but his heart knew something even worse: that if a door leading back to New York appeared in front of him right now, he might not walk through it. Not, at least, until he had seen the Dark Tower for himself. He was beginning to believe that Roland's illness was a communicable disease.

I have read thousands of pages of robot uprising stories, and think our chances of getting through the next few hundred years intact are slim, and that the sooner we start treating robots with respect, the better.

But they may just find then, like King Midas did, that their wealth creation markets have disappeared. Robots, you see, do not make for good consumers.

My six-year-old son Thomas won’t need a driver’s licence to own a car and it’s highly likely he won’t even own a car; he’ll simply rent car “time” instead. Throughout his entire life, he will never be without a smart device which will soon tell him when to go to the doctor for advice (and his insurer will require him to wear it), he’ll live in a smart house where robots clean and fridges or a household AI order groceries (delivered by a robot), he’ll never use a plastic card or chequebook to pay for anything (and likely no cash either) and he’ll interact with hundreds of computers every day that won’t have a mouse or keyboard. Thomas is part of the so-called Generation Z which is growing up in a world so dramatically different from the world that their grandparents were born into that if you had predicted these changes 100 years ago, it would have simply been called science fiction.

O sight most tragic, this - a robot-man, who doth require a mask to stay alive. What situation e'er did lead to this? How can he stand to live beneath a mask? But soft, Piett, reconsider this: Aye, verily, how shall I judge? The mask he wears is far more obvious than most. With Vader it is plain he wears a mask, though few have seen the scarring underneath. But truly, what man doth not wear a mask? For all of us are masked in some way - some choose sharp cruelty as their outward face, some put themselves behind a king's facade, some hide behind the mask of bravery, some put on the disguise of arrogance. But underneath our masks, are we not one? Do not all wish for love, and joy, and peace? And whether rebel or Imperial, do not our hearts all beat in time to make the pounding rhythm of the galaxy? So while Darth Vader's mask keeps him alive, and sits upon his face for all to see, 'tis possible he is more honest than a man who wears no mask, but hides his self. But come, Piett, now still thy prating tongue - his private time is done, his mask back on.

In theory, his confession should’ve given me butterflies. In practice, it made me feel… nothing. He might as well be a robot reading me the ingredients off a can of soup.

Most People dislike change, but you need to embrace it if the alternative is disaster. We can’t stop the disasters, but we can arm ourselves with the knowledge necessary to survive.

The jungle or the prairie, parrots or bobolinks—none of them ever has the opportunity to argue its own value as being, as things that deserve respect simply because they are. This reveals a grave spiritual flaw in their masters: the governors, developers, and agribusiness kings of the world. The ruling order has no moral right to rule because it makes its daily purpose the defeat of the future. The accountant’s logic that concludes that our “interest” is in “profit” assures a future defined by cruelty, but in the long run it will be understood as self-defeat. National

We have been dreaming of robots since Homer. In Book 18 of the Iliad , Achilles’ mother, the nymph Thetis, wants to order a new suit of armor for her son, and so she pays a visit to the Olympian atelier of the blacksmith-god Hephaestus, whom she finds hard at work on a series of automata: . . . He was crafting twenty tripods to stand along the walls of his well-built manse, affixing golden wheels to the bottom of each one so they might wheel down on their own [automatoi] to the gods’ assembly and then return to his house anon: an amazing sight to see. These are not the only animate household objects to appear in the Homeric epics. In Book 5 of the Iliad we hear that the gates of Olympus swivel on their hinges of their own accord, automatai , to let gods in their chariots in or out, thus anticipating by nearly thirty centuries the automatic garage door. In Book 7 of the Odyssey , Odysseus finds himself the guest of a fabulously wealthy king whose palace includes such conveniences as gold and silver watchdogs, ever alert, never aging. To this class of lifelike but intellectually inert household helpers we might ascribe other automata in the classical tradition. In the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes, a third-century-BC epic about Jason and the Argonauts, a bronze giant called Talos runs three times around the island of Crete each day, protecting Zeus’s beloved Europa: a primitive home alarm system.

Now for the other—more controversial—reason why robots need emotions; so they won’t kill us all. This

I’d started to think I was stuck with a robot for the remainder of our ridiculous engagement.

Go to the sea hell, you robotic tyrant!” I shouted. “I’m just trying to buy some freaking nut-free vitamin corn for my human!

The Robot King’s factories are always pumping out gas into the atmosphere. Plus, the war between Herobrine and the Robot King caused so much destruction that there isn’t much plant life left.

Who is this Robot King anyway?” Chief Udder asked. “It’s a cad called Charles,” said Porkins.

Charles?” said Alex. “Yes,” said Dave. “Charles is the new Robot King.

Porkins hesitated to call anyone evil, but the Robot King seemed to be as close to pure evil as you could get. He would even give Herobrine a run for his money.

Code War (Sonnet 1317) The next world war is not gonna be a cold war, it's gonna be a code war. Forget about conscious AI, ethicless AI is the real danger. Codes don't have to be conscious, to do great damage to the world. ChatGPT, Deepfake, Dall-E, none are sentient, yet there is no limit to them-produced fraud and havoc. Without a basic righteousness code, Fanciest of algorithm is mindless junk. If you cannot figure out how to do that, Abandon digital and build back analog. Focus on ethical AI, rather than smarter AI, If you are human, and wanna help the world. If you're a robot who thinks logic is king, Get yourself admitted, for you are in muck.

the system and make sure the machines didn’t screw up. It was depressing to know how easily we could be replaced by a robot with the intelligence of an amoeba, and extremely depressing to know the only reason we weren’t replaced was that robots were expensive to build and maintain

Ten thousand?” gasped Dave. “How can we ever defeat him?” “I told you,” said Future Dave. “You cut off the head of the creeper and the body dies.” “Hey!” said Carl. “Sorry,” said Future Dave. “I meant, if you slay the Robot King, his army will power down. That’s why we must keep our presence a secret from him for as long as possible.

As a matter of fact, Islam does not negate critical inquiry. Muslim scholars who understand this viewpoint are supportive of stem cell research, genetic engineering and robotics within ethical bounds. Even traditional Muslim scholarship in early-twentieth century was not skeptical of evolution as a scientific explanation, which can be seen in the writings of Syed Qutb and Maulana Syed Abul-Ala Maududi. Several Muslim scientists conduct research in evolutionary biology and also teach it including Mohammed Alassiri of King Saud bin Abdulaziz University for Health Sciences, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia; Ehab Abouheif, Canada Research Chair at McGill University; Fatimah Jackson, Professor of Biological Anthropology at the University of North Carolina and Rana Dajani, Associate Professor at Hashemite University, Jordan.

Daniel prayed until he pushed a hole through walls of demonic opposition and the heavens opened with spiritual revelations. In 1 Kings 18, Elijah continued in prayer until the heavens opened and the rains fell. The disciples interceded until their prayers penetrated the heavens and the glory of Pentecost came rushing down from the throne of God. Jacob prayed and the heavens opened. Angels ascended and descended. Elisha prayed and his servant beheld the heavens opened and the angelic host standing upon the mountains