The rain on the window and the drone of the air-conditioning combined to create a white noise that made the humans in the room feel strangely disconnected. Joe checked his instruments one more time, and then he started.
"How old are you?" he asked the figure seated facing him on the far side of the huge mahogany table.
"Two-point-three years," the figure said, and Joe wrote the number down.
"When is your birthday?" He watched the dial in front of him, looking for the tell-tale flicker.
"Excuse me," said Carla.
"When is your birthday?" he asked again, ignoring the young woman seated beside him.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Carla, "and I know I'm only the work experience girl, but..."
"What is it?" Joe hissed.
"Well, he's a robot, isn't he?"
"I need to run the test," Joe said, turning back to his apparatus.
"But you can tell from the voice," said Carla.
"What do you mean?" buzzed the figure across the table, and Joe realised that there was indeed a metallic quality to the subject's verbal responses.
"That evidence will inform the final decision, but I really do need to run the test, so if you’d just be quiet for a few more - "
"Also the big metal head. And body," she said, and he glared at her.
But she was right, he could see that, the figure across from him was kind of... angular. And the glint from its bare head was somewhat more metallic than perhaps would be normal for a human.
"Also the antennas."
"Antennae," he said.
"Only for insects," she said. "For radio receivers the plural is antennas."
"She's right," buzzed the robot.
"Let me run the test, please..."
"I admit it, I am a robot."
Joe sighed.
"Great. Just great."
"Sorry," said Carla, then jumped as Joe pulled the trigger on the weapon he held beneath the table, retiring the robot with a single shot.
Gunsmoke curled in the air.
The robot's cogs whirred to an ever-lasting halt.
A spring sproinged.
"Next!" said Joe.
Carla stood, crossed the floor and opened the door to the waiting room. "Next!" she called, and the next test subject rose from its seat and trundled into the room.
"How old are you?" he asked the figure seated facing him on the far side of the huge mahogany table.
"Two-point-three years," the figure said, and Joe wrote the number down.
"When is your birthday?" He watched the dial in front of him, looking for the tell-tale flicker.
"Excuse me," said Carla.
"When is your birthday?" he asked again, ignoring the young woman seated beside him.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Carla, "and I know I'm only the work experience girl, but..."
"What is it?" Joe hissed.
"Well, he's a robot, isn't he?"
"I need to run the test," Joe said, turning back to his apparatus.
"But you can tell from the voice," said Carla.
"What do you mean?" buzzed the figure across the table, and Joe realised that there was indeed a metallic quality to the subject's verbal responses.
"That evidence will inform the final decision, but I really do need to run the test, so if you’d just be quiet for a few more - "
"Also the big metal head. And body," she said, and he glared at her.
But she was right, he could see that, the figure across from him was kind of... angular. And the glint from its bare head was somewhat more metallic than perhaps would be normal for a human.
"Also the antennas."
"Antennae," he said.
"Only for insects," she said. "For radio receivers the plural is antennas."
"She's right," buzzed the robot.
"Let me run the test, please..."
"I admit it, I am a robot."
Joe sighed.
"Great. Just great."
"Sorry," said Carla, then jumped as Joe pulled the trigger on the weapon he held beneath the table, retiring the robot with a single shot.
Gunsmoke curled in the air.
The robot's cogs whirred to an ever-lasting halt.
A spring sproinged.
"Next!" said Joe.
Carla stood, crossed the floor and opened the door to the waiting room. "Next!" she called, and the next test subject rose from its seat and trundled into the room.
