[Phone A - Filtered to Hol Horse]

Mr. Horse? This is Dr. Aston with a follow-up call. I was wondering if you'd have the time to stop by my house so I can check on your progress? I know you seem to have fully recovered, but it's best to be safe, is it not?

[Phone B]

So, I have to ask, does anyone know how these postal deliveries arrive? I mean, yes, I received a package, as I understand is the norm, but I'm very concerned as to how the second item I received was already installed in my basement. Considering that the house is very well locked up when no one is home...

[Sigh.] No matter, I suppose.

Anyway, I have to say, working with humans has been an illuminating experience. Even as a medical professional, I rarely had interactions outside my own race back home. We weren't exactly the sharing type, and I can't say there's ever been a reason for an organic to ever need our assistance. Which, of course, leads to every experience here being new and exciting.

What puzzles me, though, is how resilient you humans are, in the face of having some of the least durable bodies I've encountered in my long history. Your internal skeletons can only maintain integrity under a certain amount of weight, and before then, many of your organs would fall prey to irreversible tears and ruptures. Your skins do next to nothing as far as protection goes, and your muscular systems...

And yet, your sheer force of will helps you survive even in the face of those odds. I find it strange that whatever forces designed you, would sacrifice physical toughness for an indomitable psyche. It's curious to no end.

Perhaps that's what I miss about working on my own mechanical brethren - everything was simple and easy to understand. Certainly, our systems were interconnected, but you could easily isolate a problem and replace a part before anything vital was affected. At this rate, I feel I might get rusty as far as the simpler workings of a synthetic being.

[Chuckle.] And I would hate to get rusty.

[Action - 748 Partridge Drive - locked to housemates and neighbors]

[Knock Out shifts in bed, sighing at the softness of the sheets. Much more luxurious than his recharge bunk back on the Nemesis, that's for sure. His eyes open, and for a moment, he feels different, but in a good way; his body isn't aching all over from being hit by a train. He reaches up to feel his face, smiling at the smoothness before stopping, his expression freezing. He rubs his face again, his fingers now pressing into the soft skin of his cheeks, his eyes widening. He holds his hand up to look at it, and gasps at the sight of a human hand. Ignoring everything else around him, he jumps out of bed, running to the closest mirror and checking...

He rubs his eyes, then rubs them again. His face isn't his. No sleek curves, no sheen of well-polished metal, no deep paint detailing, not even his beautiful glowing optics. Just 100% pure USDA-grade human meat.

Which, naturally, elicits a blood-curdling howl from him.]

[Phone]

I don't care where I am right now, because quite frankly, that's the least of my worries.

I want to know just who took my body and put me in this... this... disgusting skinsuit!