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Does the imprint recognise another, or does he recognise Tempo?

Internal white noise, max volume.

Fizzy look behind his eyes.

If you're right in your assessment of your own moral virtue, then he too is programmed to be evil -- you have busted the machine's central circuits. This is a good thing.

Maybe you've got it all wrong and he's too deep in thought. You've seen this expression before on many a model train enthusiast.

Does the imprint recognise another, or does he recognise Tempo?

You're wearing epidermal electrodes, contact points for a remote electroshock device. Sick.

Keep that electricity flowing -- this may be your best chance at augmentoid conversion.

Sear off the flesh! Replace it with static, and soon... METAL!

Die to electricity. Awaken as metal.

Electric kisses.

Find out, conduct experiments.

He's a blank piece of media.

A sacrifice. For the machine-god.

The device hums as though also in pain.

Trains are everything. The coolest thing created in living memory, the rest of humankind's inventors might as well down tools now.

Demonically compromised. A machine's desperate cry for help.

Mr. Copy-Paste makes a good point. They should've called it Strelets-Buy-a-Knife due to its terrible craftsmanship.

Now let him try to deny the power of the machine-god.

Okay, recalibrate. May be worth the price of admission alone.

This isn't working. Try using that console.

This isn't working. You need to work out what the machinery is doing.

Told you there's something awesome happening here. Get involved!

Look at all this power, this sheer coruscating energy! It's cooking something groovy.

The MS6 was recalled after reports that it was able to alter ganglion cell axons at the optic disc, causing users to perceive colours previously thought unavailable to Homo sapiens.

Ignore the weird aesthetic stuff -- she's cracked everything open and put it back together. It's all heavily modified!

She's controlling the bootlegging system, you dick. Multiple screens and formats all at the same time -- she doesn't have time for waster mammal shit like food and rest.

Something's not working right over there.

Try the console on the other side.

Machine's watching you now. Onto you.

Not a chance that this is just bootlegging equipment. Look at all this power, this sheer monstrous energy! It's cooking something awesome.

Perfect zone. Look at the view! No trees, ocean, or mountains getting in the way. Pure, uninterrupted structure.

The bomb sure does.

The bomb vibrates, pulsing in time with the concrete tremors.

Of course! But what is the song?

So if you had the real recording of 'Superbloc, Baby', you'd also have a bomb...

Good hands would've found a purpose for it already.

The hand on its oscilloscope twitches in recognition of their voices.

Check out the sound gear -- this is top brand, fancy stuff.

Their audio equipment's all bootlegged shit, inverted logos and backward numbers everywhere.

That pen has been rejected for a reason. That much fancier pen of yours will do a much better job.

Become the cauldron in which boils the means to your transmogrification.

The greatest advantage a machine has over man: the will to live is not required.

like the very moment you rip off the cellophane that envelopes a brand new disc... Or even better, a repressed colour variant disc.

Ashamed of its single disc offering.

Someone's done the hard part for you. The way is open.

Like one of those master sword makers the government subsidises to make two blades a year.

465 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 5 of 10