In most science fiction stories, if there’s ever a character who suddenly finds out that he’s a robot, it’s always this huge letdown, for the readers, for the other characters definitely. But the robot always takes it the hardest. Taken to extreme, the robot finds out that he’s a robot, and then he short-circuits and powers down, as if the truth is too unbearable to live with.

But I don’t know. If I were to discover that I was in fact a robot, I’d be more relieved than anything else. Maybe I’d be a little sad. But actually, no, I don’t think I’d be sad at all. And upon further reflection, I’d probably be happy about it, excited even. Everyone knows that robots are superior to humans. Finally, I’d have some concrete evidence that I’m superior to everyone else.

I wouldn’t have to worry about getting sick or developing any sort of chronic illness. Sure, computer viruses would pose more of an existential threat than they did before, but I’d never have to go running through the park and worry that I’m breathing in too much polluted air, or eat an ice cream cone and ponder the potential danger of too much antibiotics in consumer dairy products.

And what about all of the time wasted, wondering if I’m doing a good job fitting in, or being accepted by everyone else? If I’m a robot, I don’t care. I’d throw my robotic hands in the air and say, well, I am different, I’m a highly sophisticated sentient machine. Of course I’m never going to be able to fully relate with the humans. I might as well enjoy my uniqueness.

There’d have to be some extra abilities that I’d possess as a robot. Like if I’m doing some endurance exercise, does it really make sense that I’d be tired? No. That’s probably some restrictive programming at work to make me feel weak, like a human. Just knowing that those barriers are artificial has got to be enough to overcome my predefined limitations.

And why settle for just basic programming? What good is it to be a robot if you can’t opt in for some upgrades? Of course I’m talking hardware modifications, like some rocket boots that pop out of the bottom of my feet. I’ve always dreamed about exiting a boring conversation mid-sentence by just blasting out of there. Because what would the other person even say? It’s not like they’d be mad at me. It would be more cool than anything else.

But hardware upgrades would be so much more than just rocket boots. I could get like titanium-reinforced hands, for breaking things with an effortless punch. Or a new set of advanced eyes with telescopic vision. It could be anything. Ice-skates that pop out of my feet, or an extra set of arms that extend from my torso.

Which by themselves wouldn’t really make me any better than just a knockoff Inspector Gadget. So I’d have to work on software upgrades, you know, increased intelligence, instant knowledge of complex subjects as of now beyond my grasp. I’d be able to do anything.

So yeah, I guess I’m thinking about the last Terminator movie, about how the guy finds out that he’s a robot and he’s all like, “Noooo!”

But I’m not buying it. I’d be like, “Yes!”