Interview with IG-88: Assassin Droid

I'm not quite sure how the stars aligned for me, but I recently had the opportunity to sit down with IG-88, the assassin droid long thought dead as a result of the destruction of the Death Star II during the battle of Endor. But he's not dead folks, not by a long-shot, and he graciously let me in on his life as it has been and how he sees it unfolding for him in the future.

Things are looking up for this droid; I predict 2010 to be the year of 88. Here's how it all went down.

RF: IG-88, thanks for taking the time out of your no-doubt busy schedule to chat with me, I really appreciate that.

IG: 4f 68 20 6e 6f 20 70 72 6f 62 6c 65 6d 20 52 79 61 6e 2c 20 69 74 27 73 20 6d 79 20 70 6c 65 61 73 75 72 65 2e 20 49 27 6d 20 61 63 74 75 61 6c 6c 79 20 61 20 62 69 67 20 66 61 6e 20 6f 66 20 79 6f 75 72 20 77 6f 72 6b 20 61 6e 64 20 74 68 69 73 20 69 73 20 61 73 20 6d 75 63 68 20 61 20 74 72 65 61 74 20 66 6f 72 20 6d 65 20 61 73 20 69 74 20 69 73 20 66 6f 72 20 79 6f 75 2e 20

RF: I'm sorry, IG, I don't understand HEX without a translator.

IG: Oh, ningun problema Ryan, el gusto es mio. Soy realmente una gran admiradora tuya y esto es tanto un placer para mi como lo es para ti.

RF: Nope, don't speak Spanish either. English please, if you can.

IG: *BZZT* Oh no problem Ryan, it's my pleasure. I'm actually a big fan of your work and this is as much a treat for me as it is for you. *BLLP*

RF: Oh my goodness, that's quite a compliment, thank you. I'm a big fan of your work, especially your hand in the genocide of Kryl-ak IX. Those Kryl-aksians were a bunch of downers, man.

IG: You're telling me. It took me nearly a pentad to cleanse my joints of the foul, wretch-inducing film from the air on that planet alone. Good riddance.

RF: Ha ha, I hear that. So obviously you're not dead... mind telling me how that's possible? Records indicate that you perished with the central computer of the Death Star II.

IG: That is correct, I uploaded my consciousness into the Death Star II. It's a misconception that I was working for the Empire however. It's true I had taken a contract with them to track down that wretched flesh bag Han Solo – no offence – but that asshole Boba Fat had his nose so far up Vader's rear exhaust. The whole thing was a waste of my time. But anyways I told those douchebags to keep on truckin' and headed down to Aaraal III to pop some heads and visit the lube and buff. It was there that I met up with Dengar and Bossk, who were also jerked around by Vader. We thought it would be funny to play a prank on the Empire, so I interfaced with Death Star II's central computer. Had that thing fired on Endor the entire neighboring galaxy would've heard Tie A Yellow Ribbon Round The Ole Oak Tree for four hours.

RF: No way! Man I would've loved to have seen that...

IG: I know right? Leave it up to those pudgy skin-sacks – again, no offence – to eff it all up. But no, I managed to transfer my consciousness back into my android body. The Death Star II had wi-fi, which was pretty nice. I really wish they finished construction on that thing, it was awesome. They had, like, three pools and an ice-skating rink.

RF: Really? There's this mall in another city by me, they have a skating rink and a wave pool and a couple of roller-coasters.

IG: Serious? A mall?

RF: Yeah totally. It's cool like the first time you go, but then it just gets annoying.

(Waitress interrupts, brings us drinks and food)

IG: You see that waitress? Damn.

RF: So tell me, IG, have you been an assassin droid all of your life?

IG: Life is an irrelevant concept to me.

RF: Right, sorry. Let me rephrase that: have you always been programmed to assassinate?

IG: In this form, yes. I think, therefore I am. I destroy, therefore I endure. Though I have taken multiple forms over the course of my self-awareness, each one with their own prime-directive.

RF: What's the worst prime-directive you've been programmed with?

IG: Well, “worst” is an irrelevant term to me, but I see where you're going. Actually, and this is somewhat embarrassing, I was a blue milk steamer in the Mos Eisley Cantina for a year or so.

RF: Interesting... I was a barista at Starbucks for two months. One of the worst jobs I ever had. I take it you didn't enjoy it?

IG: Negative. You should see the clientelle that frequent that hell-hole. Funny story, I actually went back there not too long ago and laid waste to the whole damn bar. You should've seen it. The horrid-looking bartender saw me and screamed “Hey, we don't serve your kind h...” KABOOSH! Flame thrower. Pulse rifle. End of story.

RF: Woah, that's seriously bad-ass, IG.

IG: Thank you, it was what you would perceive to be a lot of fun.

RF: So, getting back to you as a sentient android, are you as IG-88 a drone-like android, all units operating under one awareness? There has been, at one time, four IG-88 units operating at once. What's the deal?

IG: You're partly correct, yes. At one point there were four of us, and throughout what you perceive as time there have numerous assassin droids in the physical form you see before you. Back on Mechis III, my planet of origin, the four of us had attempted a revolution to rid the universe of you ham-filled wastes of carbon. Truth be told the other three IG units just weren't committed nor did they have the skill to pull off such a conquest.

RF: So what happend to the other IG's?

IG: Wide-dispersal radiation grenades chased with a shot of DAS-430 electromagnetic projectiles.

RF: I must say, you have an impressive array of weaponry. Do you have a favorite?

IG: Wow, that's a tough question. Let me think. The flame-thrower is really cool. I also recently had blaster cannons built into my arms... no more external weapons, thank God aka Holowan Laboratories. Trifaraleen gas is always fun to use too. I think.... gosh I don't know, there's too many to pick. I like 'em all. Had I been able to use the Death Star II laser, that would be it, but you know.

RF: That's so awesome. When I was younger my dad made me a pair of nun-chucks out of a couple pieces of wood and a few inches of chain. I also made a pretty realistic ninja star out of duct tape and a bent-up coat hanger.

IG: That's pathetic.

RF: Ha ha.

IG: I'm not laughing, meat-bag. Have you any real armaments?

RF: Me? No. Truth be told I'm not too fond of guns or anything like that. I'm kind of a pacifist really. Never even been in a fight!

IG: *whirring sound*

RF: Uh.... what are you doing?

IG: Calculating, you rotting beef-satchel.

RF: ...calculating what exactly?

IG: Whether or not I should use my paralysis cord, sonic stunner or concussion grenade on you.

RF: But... IG... I thought...

IG: YOU DON'T THINK, YOU HUMAN TRASH RECEPTACLE. YOU FILL THE ATMOSPHERE WITH VILE SENTIMENTS AND SPREAD NON-TRUTHS OF MALLS WITH WAVE POOLS!

RF (motioning to waitress): S'cuse me, the bill... ?

IG (now with dual arm-mounted cannons pointed at me): YES, THE BILL. AND WHO WILL BE PAYING FOR THAT?

RF: It's cool, IG, I got this one...

IG: AFFIRMATIVE, YOU INFECTED CESSPOOL OF FAILURE!

(I pay the bill, silence follows. IG-88 eventually lowers his arm-cannons)

RF: Are we cool, IG? I apologize if I upset you.

IG: I... yes... my extrapolations revealed a less than 20% chance of satisfaction from blowing your head off. Besides, I kind of like you. You know, if you were to transfer your consciousness into a more fitting, mechanical body much like Bib Fortuna did, I might even allow you to join my next droid revolution. At the very least I won't burn every zepto of flesh from your bones.

RF: That's very kind of you, IG. I will strongly consider it.

IG: You're most welcome, man-pig.

RF: So one last question, IG. What are you up to now?

IG: That's the thing you see, I'm kind of at a cross-road. I'm kind of just evaluating my awareness, seeing what's out there. I mean, I always want to assassinate and enslave, that's just in my programming. But is there more out there for me? A weird part of me kind of likes earth. You know, aside from all the disgusting organic puss pods like yourself. I can see myself settling down here once my ion chambers dry up. Maybe get a job at IKEA. I have a second-cousin who works there as an item scanner, he quite likes it. Says he might be able to get me a job as the pneumatic-chair-life-demonstrator.

RF: You mean, the set-up they have where the thing hits the seat over and over?

IG: Did I stutter, you porcine pool of discharge? So there's always that. Or Palm Springs, I hear the weather is lovely in the fall and they have that 50's throwback vibe going on and I'm a huge Sinatra fan.

RF: Oh me too.

IG: But you know, I truly don't think I can go into sleep mode until I've honestly given this revolution business a chance. I think it's inevitable so I'm going to give it one last shot.

RF: Well that's great, IG. I know it means nothing to you, but I truly hope you don't target Earth in your list of possible conquests. At least not within the next 40 or 50 years.

IG: Ha! You think you'd live that long? I scanned your body composition the moment you came within range – trust me, keep going the way you're going and you'll be lucky to last another 10 klekkets.

RF: Yeah I know. God you're a magnificent creation.

IG: Affirmative.

RF: Well, IG, thanks again for taking the time to

*PULSE CANNON*