"Yectara, we know what you have aboard"
A thousand creepy voices buzz and hiss
Directly down Pepito's spinal cord
Or so it feels like. Something's quite amiss.
Around the room his fellows all convulse
And his bright lady fair looks like she'll retch
Or whatever a cyborg who's repulsed
By what she feels might do should something catch
Her off her guard like this. "How dare you bring
Such foulness from this system?" says the swarm
Of voices? Signals? Vibrations that sting
E'en as they move along the nerves? What form
Would such who speak this way nat'rually take?
Pepito blocks such thoughts as his knees quake.