Now, if you’ll follow me down this hallway—say hi to my android secretary—
we’ll descend into my basement. Yes, my lab is here. Can’t get much funding
these days since singularity fears dried up wallets. Mind the arms and legs
on the floor. You caught me at a bad time. Pardon the incense—it helps me
mask the sting-dull smell of carbon. See those pictures on the wall? This used to be
a family business, but now it’s just me.
Don’t be afraid of the androids lying on the tables.
They’re deactivated. Real, you say? Well, yes, they’re modeled
to look like you and I. This one, for example: circuitry as intricate
as a web, a brushed metal frame skeleton,
synthetic skin laid over and wound tight, eyes that light up
when they look at you. He’s the quiet type, but his hands turn into guns
if you piss him off. Let’s wake him—
we’re only in the first room and you’ll need a bodyguard for what’s next.
Shake his hand; don’t be rude. Get used to being uncomfortable
or you just might fall in love with all the dangerous things you’re going to see here.