I love science fiction. All of it. I love watching it on movies or TV, reading it in books, and absorbing it as a fine paste through my pores every morning. It’s wonderful stuff, all shiny with glowy bits and scary with dark bits. Sci-fi is delicious on a bagel and 300% more nutritious than the average generic fiction substance.
The question is, then: why? The obvious answer is probably parasitic nanotechnology lodged in my brain stem forcing me to have opinions for no reason.
Parasitic nontech, however, demands that I find justification.