"Come to study you? Too fraught with risk. Your kind is too precarious. I have seen thousands of ruined, gutted worlds. Wars, suicides, who can tell? To my makers you are a plague, the one percent of the galactic cultures that carry the seeds of chaos."
"You are rare. My makers, you see, were machines such as myself."
"The stars are..."
"Populated by the machines, descendants of the organic cultures that arose and died."