But worst of all were the iron bodies, the hideous ⌈cy-borgs⌋: the ultimate lapdogs of the Old Men, their flesh and bones hollowed out by the Old Men's ⌈nano-machines⌋ . . . they lived a pathetic life, their purpose pointless, their issue sterile, and over the course of their years as they blocked the bullets meant for the Old Men and killed any who challenged the Old Men's power they grew stressed and weakened until finally they broke and smashed themselves and each other and any around them or -- worse -- lived endlessly on, until they were worth nothing more than that material from which they had been made. But then after all what could they expect: iron cannot be worked endlessly; it stretches, it strains; it loses shape; it grows weak; it finally fails.

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