Ok, I won't be able to speak, enjoy food, express emotion, have sex or do any of the things I normally do with my hands. I would be severely disabled. That would be almost like being a paraplegic but with wheels. And I might not be able to see or hear well (does R2D2 have the ability to enjoy HD quality or is it more like recognizable blurs and discernible murmurs?).

What the hell would I realistically do with myself if I couldn't even communicate? I find meaning in doing constructive projects. Where would I find meaning in a body like R2D2? Without the ability to experience even sensory pleasures, I would become so bored. Imagine staring at a wall for a whole week. That's how I think it would feel to be trapped in an R2D2 body - but maybe I'd be stuck like that for years.

If you've looked into the concept of "flow" (From the book "Flow: The psychology of optimal experience.") you'll know that not being able to do activities that provide an appropriate challenge might mean you aren't able to be happy. Gifted children, for instance, develop learned helplessness in schooling environments that go at a much slower pace than they do. I am not satisfied by games - I couldn't just zoom around on my wheels in patterns and be amused. I am not a gnat, I'm a human being and I need fulfillment. Boredom is a formidable affliction which I don't dare underestimate.

I think I have to classify the R2D2 body as life support, and say pull the plug or put me back in cryo. I'd rather not just wheel around in little circles while my brain tortures me because of boredom. No R2D2 body.

Good try though.