What is a sleep bot?

You don't like me, no? Like money, yes?

Q. Why do you dominate me?
A. Because it makes me feel powerful. I'm insecure and weak, I need to pad my ego with the knowing that I can bring pain to those weaker than me.

Q. Why the young?
A. Because they're smooth... supple... innocent, yes? They are the essence of beauty. They float around my head, tempting me with their fragile frames and innocuous innocence. When I drive by a school, I only think, "So many, so many. Yet I can have none." Why is this so?

Q. I'm asking the questions here, faggot.
A. That wasn't a question, faggot.

Q. Why do you question me?
A. Because you don't know yourself. You want to know yourself, or at least you think you want to know. But you are too scared to see how far the rabbit hole really goes. You know you are fucked up, everything about you is wrong. There is a seed in you, planted by a demon. It grows and burns and twists in agony, and you writhe with it's wretched glory. I love you, little demon boy, buried in my soul. But I hate you more than ever, you push my boundaries to the edge of legislature... for one day you shall wind me up in the JAILBOX. I wish not that place for no children go there, no children at all. Only mean old men, looking to hurt my smooth, supple body... so supple... so smooth. Why can't I have them? I am just like them, I swear. Years are not what defines a child, but it is the mind... for if the mind is like a child, then the person is like a child, and the child is. But when the mind is corrupt, and the mind is aware, then the person is not a child. The person is, a grownup. God speed Chris Hansen, God speed.

Q. Are you a pedophile?
A. NO. Of course not. How dare you make such accusations. I shall never solicit sex, never display my beautiful nudity to children. You, sir, are a sick, sick person. I am a child. And as such, children belong together.

Q. Can we switch subjects? You're scaring me.
A. But yes of course dear child. I do not want to scare you. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.

Q. Ok. Why can't you sleep?
A. I wish it would be as easy as to say "Well sir, that is because my darned sleep cycle is tainted!" But tainted not it ain't isn't. For only the mind is tainted. The mind goes and goes and runs and runs and never ceases to stop... if only there were a switch I could flip to power down. The only switches are pills, happiness, and suicide. For those I have none. I only have some Natural Lights and a bag of Freetos. These are the things of men... of champions. I should be so lucky to have my face on a bag of Freetos, "Mr. Wadsworth, Champion of Karma," with a spindle through my eye.

Q. What is this place?
A. Welcome, dear boy. This... this is the ethernet. The place that dreams are made of. This etherweb is composed of millions of kids in compartments, typing away, chatting, cybering, sharing, caring, masturbating, whining, wasting away in this digital debauchery. I knew this world was fucked when a 10 year old Phillipino girl's avatar walked up to my avatar and asked "Want to fuck me?" Of course I abided, but only for the sake of my own masturbation; however, whence her avatar began humping mine, unknowing the acts she was committing I asked, "Why did you ask me that?" And she replied "nvm. that what they always say." She was so innocent, so unknowing. These things she did, she only replicated, not knowing the meaning behind them. I asked her "Do you do these things in real life?" She replied "no, only in Gaia." (Gaia is an online tween paradise). At that moment I knew what I had to do. I finished masturbating and signed off.

Q. Well... what did you do?
A. For whence another day, dear boy... for whence another day.

Q. C'mon man, what did you do?
A. GROMMIT.

Q. ?

Q. And just like that... he was gone.