I've been tracking this thing's movements for years, moving from one shitty hotel to another just to maintain a safe distance from it. All those long years spent away from everything that I love. My wife... My kids... A semblance of a job or social life... I've spent the past decade in a stupor of booze-induced half sedation just to function--all the time knowing that it's every twitch, every hiccup could mean the end for half the population of a major city in mere hours. We think that we're so safe and secure, taking enough soma every night to put us to sleep until the next morning.
We blissfully sing the praises and ask the blessings of our giant robotic overlords so that we may continue to feel like we maintain some small amount of dignity like we still own this god-forsaken half-inhabitable rock. Oh, friends, it's just a matter of time. Sure, I may be some drunk crackpot scurrying from one corner of the globe to another in piss-stained underoos waving around my pitiful sign of "The end is nigh"... but what if I'm not. Yes, we could take solace in our belief that the monster before you is completely under our control, chewing away at the filthy mountains that hide our richly deserved natural resources... but what if it realizes what we've done to it, and it gets angry?
You think that this thing looks bad now? You can be damned sure that I'm not going to be anywhere near it when it transforms.