Krisco was born somewhere in-between January and February of the year 2000.

He grew enormously fast, and his face quickly became a mild 5 'o clock shadow almost immediately. This is to say that Krisco...was now fully grown, and born with a direction. The rest of the human industry is not given such a direction. We are merely products of somebody or something. We must search for ours, in hopes of finding a legitimate path. Our lips, our tongue, our voice has been shaped from our surroundings and what we derive from it; Krisco on the other hand, was not shaped.

Krisco was born during the evening. He was created from chance; a chance that two alloy's would collide during the night, to form a new machine...a new alloy. With a rhythm and some fresh wires he will continue to trudge through the night, molding a new construct. The medicine shall be given, and his medicine shall be taken. Climbing your walls while the city sleeps, and dreaming of robotic kingdoms where the machines are free to roam and saunter the countryside. A world where your limbs cannot reach...a sight no human should see. He will continue to work, and he has allowed you to listen. But you must first...believe. He is yours for the taking, for whatever you want him to play for you. One might hear a Blue jay's song while one might hear an atomic bomb. It's up to you.

Krisco looks through our trash at night, and he finds the bits of meat that no-one will eat. He tries to only use what's needed. He tries to use what he needs. He is watching you and your mother, and he is learning fast, but is still so very sore in his trial and error. But he's trying.