Chapter 5: Bob – July 18, 2133
Sigh. “Morning, Dr. Landers. Didn’t you just leave?”
“Good morning, Bob…”
Uh oh. That wasn’t Dr. Landers’ normal tone. I had been playing around with tuning my artificial senses, and I’d discovered that I could run Fourier Analysis on voices in close to real time. The doctor’s voice indicated high levels of tension.
A second man stepped into view. Dr. Landers gestured toward him. “Bob, this is Senior Minister Travis. He’s here to evaluate your progress.”
I understood the unspoken message. This guy could pull my plug. I would have to tread very carefully. I would also have to clamp down on my tendency to make wisecracks, as his appearance seemed purpose-designed for a comedy routine. He reminded me of the old saying, ‘Stereotypes are valid first-order approximations.’ The man was the cliché of the old-time, bible-thumping, fire-breathing preacher: tall and thin, with cheekbones and teeth that seemed to protrude from his face. Even when he smiled, he glowered.
“Good morning, Minister Travis. I’m at your disposal.” Wow, worst opening line, ever.
“Good morning, replicant. I’m here to evaluate fitness yours for a task which is the glory of the Lord on today and to a much extent lesser, the kingdom of our spiritual leaders, Thomas Händel III.”
I was taken aback for a moment at his accent and mangled vocabulary. Of course, this was a hundred years later, but Dr. Landers always sounded like anyone you might run into on the street. On the other hand, Landers had made it clear that dealing with replicants was his specialty. Perhaps that included speech training.
“All right, shoot,” I said.