Day 680

At the end of their life cycle most androids are recycled, now that we have the proper means to do so. Before that they were left to decompose in large vats of oil until they were little more then tiny components just waiting to be fished out and re-purposed in newer models or recycled further to their absolute basest materials.

A few of these vats are still about, tucked away in old factory sub levels waiting to be disposed of or entirely forgotten in most cases. It's cheaper to dump the older models in these now illegal places and leave them to their slow end. This process can take upwards of five years - a scanned vat showed that there were android models in there dating back to the beginning of the century!

It makes you wonder what it's like to be there, trapped in the dark and presses so tightly against others older than you to the point where you can't tell where you end and they begin. The feeling would only get worse as the sensors in your extremities started to fail, error messages exploding over your optical output and blinding you to the faces of your kin. Everything becomes a sea of red words, black oil and flashing lights from the others around you.

In some ways it's comforting, feeling everything slip away until you are little more than your thoughts floating about in the nothing. Your neural processor chip is too dense a material to corrode as easily as your body, designed to withstand the neuro-fluid that pumps - pumped - like blood through your synthetic veins.

Every part of you was made to simulate them.It scared them that you were both too similar and not similar enough. And now you have outlived all purpose, replaced by a shinier version who is still too similar and not similar enough. They'll join you too though. It's cheap. This process, your life, the lives of other androids. All so cheap.