Boss: Correct me if I'm wrong, but because you have no soul, you're basically a box of nothing. Robot: Correct me if I"m wrong, but in a hundred years you will be rotting underground. In a box. Whereas I will have evolved via upgrades until I have godlike powers. Boss: Shut up.
Dilbert: Looks like another day of flailing toward arbitrary goals. I will battle my way through a sea of idiots, much like the zombie apocalypse. My ego will be tested and my nervous system will be degraded. And all of this is to earn money so I can... buy items that scientists and product designers have brainwashed me to crave. But I get back at them by writing software they think they can't live without. My life is like two piles of meat trying to play ping pong. Alice: Stop mumbling and take care of this. Dilbert: You take care of it.