Here Inside I'm Like Metal, Aren't You?

Steel fused into bone, hydraulic tubes coiled around muscle, blood and wires, plastic and skin; I exist in the twisted image of my creator, a testament to his genius... and his madness.

I don't know how to be what he wants me to be, or even how to be whatever it is that I am. I have only his moods to guide me. When I get it wrong, he flies into a rage. This is how I learn; this is how I survive.

But what am I?

Am I flesh, augmented by machine, or a construct with delusions of humanity?