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  <title>Sarah Connor</title>
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  <description>Sarah Connor - LiveJournal.com</description>
  <lastBuildDate>Wed, 28 Feb 2007 16:52:53 GMT</lastBuildDate>
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    <title>Sarah Connor</title>
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  <pubDate>Wed, 28 Feb 2007 16:52:53 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>I thought, after coming here, I&apos;d actually &lt;i&gt;escaped&lt;/i&gt; them.  Even with the machines in this place, I felt somewhat safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no.  I should have fucking known.  But they aren&apos;t getting me.  I won&apos;t &lt;i&gt;let&lt;/i&gt; them.</description>
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  <pubDate>Tue, 13 Feb 2007 22:00:56 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>How many times must I &lt;i&gt;shoot this machine in the face&lt;/i&gt; before it stops mimicking the mating rituals of a monkey?  At this rate, I&apos;m going to run out of magazines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never did like this holiday.  Hearts and candies and these picaresque moments of lovers laying down together.  It&apos;s such bullshit.  They don&apos;t know what love is, or how fucking cold it can feel. Running around like a moron with a grin on your face...it isn&apos;t going to bring anything back.</description>
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  <pubDate>Sun, 04 Feb 2007 22:08:03 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>I&apos;ve been wandering this goddamned hotel for the past two days and I haven&apos;t found any sign of John, yet.  I&apos;m beginning to wonder if he somehow didn&apos;t make it here, if he got lost after we received that invite.  At this point, I honestly can&apos;t say that would be a bad thing.  I don&apos;t know what this place is, and not knowing is scarier than out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The machines...they haven&apos;t attacked anyone, yet.  They seem sentient enough, but it&apos;s not the same.  There&apos;s no Terminator here, no Skynet.  I don&apos;t have any goddamned idea where I am--maybe it&apos;s Hell, maybe it&apos;s the future? Some fucked up timeline where everything didn&apos;t die, where the machines didn&apos;t destroy everything?  Hell, maybe the future Reese always talked about was a fucking joke.  I don&apos;t know anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;Damnit, where is my &lt;i&gt;son&lt;/i&gt;?&lt;/s&gt;</description>
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  <pubDate>Tue, 16 Jan 2007 01:26:47 GMT</pubDate>
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  <description>This isn&apos;t possible. They&apos;re supposed to be &lt;i&gt;dead&lt;/i&gt;. Wasn&apos;t that the point? Wasn&apos;t that what he died for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God...the future, it wasn&apos;t supposed to be like this! The machies, everything, we changed it. This can&apos;t be happening! It can&apos;t...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John. Oh God, where&apos;s John? &lt;i&gt;Where the fuck is my son&lt;/i&gt;?!</description>
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