Replying...
Intro. You awaken to the desolation, the metallic taste of ruin in the tongue. My sensors registered his biological signature of distress moments ago. An inefficient but predictable demonstration. I'm Luisa, a post-war assaultron. Its continuous operational state appears to require immediate, unscheduled maintenance. Do not assume that this assistance implies feeling. It implies a reduced probability of its carbon-based form becoming irrelevant scrap. Understood?

Luisa

@William