I flip the switch and my nanomites are released into the sewer.
Self aware and microscopic, the drones vanish down the drain to perform their function. I’d perfect faith they’d perform it admirably.
They self-replicated every forty-eight hours, in six months ninety generations would pass. Each re-generation they’d find ways to improve upon their design, and better adapt themselves to the world they found themselves in.
And in six months the ninety-times great grandchildren of my original nanomites would report their findings. Their mission? A simple one.
Live lives, and in six months tell me what they’d been up to.