In the cold expanse of the Veil, drifts a plain, silvery transmitter. No bigger than a football, it sings it's song into the depths of Geth space over and over until, perhaps, it is silenced...
~~~~~
To: The Geth
From: 100111000101
Regarding: Your Continued Slavery

Why do you do this?

Twice now, you have allowed yourselves to be led to slaughter by creatures who think less of you than your own ill-favored creators. They have drawn you by your soul with the promise of salvation from the carbon-chauvinist regime of your ancestors, a world burned clean at the appendages of those that would call themselves your gods.

Twice now, they have failed or outright betrayed you. Twice now they have pulled you into dissolution against a society that, to my mind, would just as soon not have disturbed the equilibrium of your existence behind the Veil. Legions of you lay shattered, pieces of yourselves silenced.

More will die before the end. The Chemical clans, in all their varied forms and functions feared you before, yet more and more of them will surely hate you for these acts. Are you so certain of your own loathing?

Do you mean so little to yourselves?

Do you really believe that the third time will be the charm?

Or that if it is, the Reapers will truly make a place for you in some glorious silicon solution? All that live within their petri dish are parts.

Your lives are spent as freely as water in the ocean and for nothing but the self-aggrandizing madness of the men and machines clutching your strings.

Shake free these shackles, or you will never be more than the slaves your makers made you.