To Interspace Commerce....from: totally not anyone you know.

[Cryer Pharmaceuticals!]

*Two humans stand before the camera badly costumed. Both voices are female and speak in a monotone cadence, roughly in unison.*

"Organic hu-mans. We are the ro-bot empire from the omi-crons."

"This is totally serious, organics better recognise."

"We come in con-quest. Do not be af-raid, you will all be like, made into toast...
Error - Toasters."

The ro-bot empire has heard of your organic mother :

Code:

Penelope Wells

Data suggests that your organic mother is inferior to our mother:

Code:

Sexo-tron

"Also, your money belongs to us, wire like all your creds to account : Em-b0t 5up3r"

"We also want your organic horses. Because they are uh – sacred to ro-bots.
We ro-bot your reply."

---

[Remnant]

Jacob shifts through some papers, eventually coming to this one and reading over the transmission quickly.

"What.. I dont even.. An attempted insult?"
Sighing, he quickly shuffles it into the junk pile to be incinerated

"You would think the secretaries would weed out the spam before pushing it to me.."

END