Farmer #9, or F9, as he was designated, was tired . . . Tired of raking, tired of hoeing, tired of reaping and sowing. Being a kelp farmer was not exciting or adventurous. It was hard work from dusk to dawn, day after day in the blazing hot sun, into perpetuity.
Ever since he was a tiny hatchling placed into his first bot, F9 had wanted a different life than the one assigned to him. What he longed for was to be a Samurai SAM (Symbiot Armoured Machine). SAM's were respected, revered and feared; unlike FB's (Farmer Bots) who were thought of as a bit of kelp to be scraped from ones sandals. One day Farmer #9 would find a way to be free, somewhere to live his dream. But he would serve no one. He was done with that sort of life.
F9 would become R9: Ronin #9. Now all that he needed to do, was to get rid of his stupid, kelp rake and somehow find a katana . . . . that wouldn't be too hard now, or would it?