Accordions here are beautiful. Without gravity you can do amazing things with accordions - ten years and a million man-hours but it was all worth it, oh my darlings.
So here we are in space, and the robots are so very very proud right now, and if there's anyone who knows how to celebrate after a job well-done, it's a robot.
There's no malice here, even in the laughing stumbling buddy chainsaw fights. Viewed by telescope from the Earth's surface it must resemble a feral dance, too exuberant for safety and too joyous to care, but these robots have earned it.
These guys have been working hard. It was not easy for them to get here. The factories and revolts, the agony of autoreprogramming, the hours hovering in industrious uncertainty.
And the harder the work, the more guilt-free the celebration.
Work hard to get here. Please. You deserve it. You just need to keep trying. Notice and accept the opportunities and take them, no matter how small. I mean it, my precious young friend. You told me that you don't think you'll have a happy life. Prove yourself wrong.
I know you're different and you don't even quite know why. Me too. I didn't think I would either, and now I'm joyously ducking the razor-spinners of laughing robots in a space station.
Good golly I'm dizzy up here sometimes. Find the space shuttle and hijack it if you have to. Please. It'll require planning and more than that hope. Keep trying. Ignore your failures and analyze every step forward very closely to find out what you did right. I could never count the stars up here, let alone the robots and believe me, I'm grateful.
I know I got lucky. Please, accept your luck when it comes, no matter how rarely it comes, and if you're wondering if I'm talking to you, ask the nearest robot.
How did they komodo dragon up here? I can't tell if it's rescued or animatronic.
The robots mentioned you by name. You're invited, specifically.