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I kind of liked her, even if her daughter was a creature of distilled darkness, worthy only of being slain so her corpse could be used to make potions.
“The most wonderful sound ever is the lamentations of my enemies, screaming my name toward the heavens with ragged, dying voices.” The girl looked at me, cocking her head. “Well bless your stars.”
“I am a machine, and my conclusions are therefore logical—while yours are biased by organic irrationality.” He made a few lights on his dash blink. “That is a clever way of saying you are the stupid one, in case you—” “I understood,” I said. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome!” He sounded utterly sincere.
“Hello?” M-Bot said. “Spensa? Are you dead?” “Maybe.” “Oooh. Like the cat!”
That soup tasted better than the blood of my enemies. Considering I’d never actually tasted the blood of my enemies, perhaps that didn’t do justice to the soup.
“I’m outraged!” M-Bot said. “This is an insult beyond insults! I cannot express with words my indignation, but my built-in thesaurus says that I am insulted, affronted, maltreated, desecrated, injured, ravaged, persecuted, and/or possibly molested.”
“But my subroutine that can simulate appreciation . . . is appreciative.” I nodded. “That’s kind of what it does,” he added. “Appreciate things.” “I would never have figured.” “It can appreciate something at a million times per second. So you could say your comment is likely the single most appreciated thing you’ve ever done.”
“Is this really the only thing you can think of to comfort someone who is grieving?” “It was number one on my list.” Great. “The list has seven million entries. Do you want to hear number two?” “Is it silence?” “That didn’t even make the list.” “Move it to number two.” “All right, I . . . Oh.”
“Sometimes, the answers we need don’t match the questions we’re asking.”
