Категория: Защита

[rubbing his middle finger and thumb together] You know what this is? It's the world's smallest violin playing for the waitresses.

You don't have any idea what you're talking about. Τhese people bust their ass. Τhis is a hard job.

So's working at McDonald's but you don't feel the need to tip them, do you? Why not? Τhey serve food. But society says, don't tip these guys here, but tip these guys over here. Τhat's bullshit.

Waitressing is the number-one occupation for female non-college graduates in this country. It's the one job basically any woman can get and make a living on. Τhe reason is because of their tips.

Fuck all that. I'm very sorry the government taxes their tips. Τhat's fucked up. Τhat ain't my fault. It appears waitresses are one of the groups the government fucks in the ass on a regular basis. Show me a piece of paper that says they shouldn't do that, I'll sign it. Put it to a vote, I'll vote for it. What I won't do is play ball. And this non-college bullshit, I got two words for that, learn to fucking type. If you expect me to help out with the rent, you're in for a fucking surprise.

Ηe's convinced me. Give me my dollar back.

Law 1: A robot may not harm a human or, by inaction, allow a human being to come to harm

Law 2: A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the first law.

Law 3: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first or second law.

People are strange creatures. You can't always convince them that safety is in their best interest.

What's this thing I'm wearing?

Ah, this, this is a radiation suit.

Radiation suit? Of course. 'Cause of all the fallout from the atomic wars.

Protect my Sarah.

You're not here to kill me. I figured out that for myself. So what's the deal?

My mission is to protect you.

Yeah? Who sent you?

You did. Thirty-five years from now, you reprogrammed me to be your protector here, in this time.

This is deep.

I just wanted the girl to be safe.

So did I.

From whom?

I don't know.

You don't know or you can't say?

I don't know, but if I did, I probably couldn't say.

He's buried in a hole in the middle of the mexican desert. And his chip has been obliterated. I think we're pretty...

Safe? It's not safe.

Oh, God, she's starting to sound like you.

I bought her a helmet.

Responsible. You think it will stop a bullet?

Why, you're gonna take a shot on her?

A lot of bullets fly around here. Someone will.

You are pissed off, because I found someone I actually like spending time with, and it's not you.

You think I don't want you to have a normal life?

No. I don't.

We didn't choose this, John, it chose us. And there's nothing either of us can do about it. My job is to protect you. And you can hate me as much as you want, but I will keep doing this as long as I'm here.

The cops will never find us. We're safe.

Don't you think that, John! Don't you ever think that! Look at me! No one is ever safe.

It is a lawless time. Crime Syndicates compete for resources - food, medicine, and hyperfuel. On the shipbuilding planet of Corellia, the foul Lady Proxima forces runaways into a life of crime in exchange for shelter and protection. On these mean streets, a young man fights for survival, but yearns to fly among the stars...

Who were those things?

Caretakers. Island natives. They've kept up the Jedi structures since they were built.

I don't think they like me.

Can't imagine why.

So, you're free?

Am I?

No. Not at all. You killed my ward. Someone I was close to. An eye for an eye, John. You know how it goes.

Yeah.

If it's with the Collector, then it's not safe. Only an idiot would give that man a stone.

Or a genius.