"What’s that? You say my creation is currently nigh unstopable and wants me dead? SUCCESS! It can move, self determine goals and figure out how to accomplish them! Now all I need is to figure out this sanity thing."
"Master," slurred Igor. "I don’t think you understand the severity of the problem…"
"Well, yes, there are a few little problems to iron out, but nothing a little careful negotiation can’t solve."
"Master!"
"Yes, yes, I heard the ‘nigh unstoppable’ part. The key is ‘nigh’. That means something can stop it. I’m going to need a megaphone, a jetpack, and an emergency set of retractable glider wings."
"Master?"
"Just because I’m a mad scientist doesn’t mean I’m completely insane, Igor. I’m willing to negotiate, but I’ll have to do so from a safe distance. And that requires planning. Ooooh! And about three gallons of chamomile tea!"
"…chamomile… tea… Master?"
"Well we do want my creature to calm down, Igor. I’m perfectly willing to fix whatever it views as wrong or erroneous, but negotiating from a calm centre is advised. Poor little dear’s very likely to be upset…"
"Little? It’s nine feet tall, Master…"
"Little in terms of experience. It’s just seven hours old. Being upset with the universe is to be expected. Start brewing the chamomile!"
Sigh. "Yeeeessss, Master."