“Name?” she asked, clearly bored and just going through the motions.
“Does it matter?” he sighed, not really caring enough to answer when even a digital answering services couldn’t be bothered about pretending to give half a shit. He idly wondered whether they came programmed like that, or whether the utter disdain somehow built up over time. It would make them much like having a real secretary in that respect. Her simulated form even looked harried and unhappy. “Could there actually be,” he thought, “a real person somewhere who had served as the real model?”
The screen image glared with a sort of dispassionate loathing. She replied, “not really,” before continuing the enlistment data-collection. There was a further stream of lengthy yet futile questioning.
“It’s M.T.” he said. Continue reading