They call me Rusty. Not on account of my shock of red hair, but because I seem to rust no matter how they try and avoid it. It's not easy being a robot inhabiting a world built for humans. I see their thoughts and emotions, short bolts of electricity that shoot between neurons, much like my circuits, but I don't, you know, feel it. I share worries and fears, hopes and dreams with them, but it means nothing to me. Maybe one day they'll fix that for me, patch me into the wonder of being human, but for now, I guess I'll just have to live.