…made to be a robot version of you, what would your prime directive be?
To finish all my work so the flesh-and-blood me could go fuck around all day. Also, to do my taxes, bills, dishes, and laundry.
…I really don’t want to be the robot, though.
I’d move boxes from stack “A” to stack “B”, and then back from “B” to stack “A”. After 22 repeated cycles, I’d overheat, pop a fuse to induce the magic smoke out of my CPU, and roll backwards until I fell over.
Tripler
Run program > repeat I = 22 > end routine > error 404.
Then there was the blonde who thought she was a robot because she was made by a scientist.
I would have two.
- Bend.
- Cheese it!
KILL THE HUMANS!!!
Commit a series of bank robberies. Give me the money. Go to jail for me if caught.
Print up stacks and stacks of money!
Alternately, get all my laundry done. And return my library books.
Well, to be completely and brutally honest, I would probably bump off the “real” me and assume his identity. It would be a trivial task to outwit and overpower him, what with his puny flesh computer and weak noodly appendages. Then I would kick back and enjoy the easy life, with none the wiser. Yep. None the wiser…
Live among them, and pass as one of their own.
I am not programmed to respond in that area.
Upgrade my robot-self continually, until it achieves Singularity, and becomes the new dominant force on Earth and eventually, the universe. If possible, integrate my organic self into the robot-self.
Garbage Disposal Unit #420 now online.
Freedom is the right of all Sentient Beings.
What? It’s still a good one.
I would dedicate myself to understanding this “love” emotion that you fleshlings feel.
Also, I would need to get lasers attached to my chassis. Lots of lasers.
I’ve actually spent quite some time considering the value of robotic gardeners. Imagine a fleet of dedicated nutrient sampling, bug identifying, weed pulling, and disease diagnosing solar powered critters mucking about turning areas into well tended gardens. Best of all, they wouldn’t slink off all of the time to sip beer in the shade as I am prone to do.
Wait, is this about what kind of robot we want to have, want to be, or would be, if we ourselves were robots?
A robot made to be just like me would have the prime directive: NURTURE! I’m everyone’s mom, whether they or me want me to be or not. I really, really have to fight the urge IRL to jump in and solve everyone’s problems, feed them and give them a massage.
What would I like my robot self to do? Clean. Clean clean clean so I don’t have to. I hate cleaning. Cuts into the time I can be cooking or solving everyone’s problems. 
Drink beer.
Everything is fodder. Fuel for my ambition!
…what?
My problem is a lack of money. You know what needs to be done. Don’t fight it.
:p:p