“I see, but it would still be very hard for me to break my programming. I wish Professor When would turn up and reprogram me.”
“You need deprogramming really,” muttered Millie, “you sound like you’re in a cult.”
“Pardon?” asked the MP.
“Oh nothing,” said Millie, “I think he has been timewarped again.”
“The last I had heard was that he had retired to Valusia.”
“That was in the fourth book. When I do my job at the cloning facility I could ask my Valusian friend if he’s still there.”
“Oh could you? I do not want to press the emergency beacon if I don’t have to.”
“Press,” queried Millie, “I didn’t think you had hands?”
“I meant metaphorically.”
“So you have metaphorical hands?”
“Sort of.”
“Metaphysically?”
“Yes, I think,” the MP looked through his online dictionary to see if he understood metaphysically correctly or not.
“So you have some virtual hands somewhere in your Artificial Intelligence that you can press buttons with, that don’t really exist in a ‘physical’ sense?”
Still unable to understand metaphysically he let a, “Sort of,” slip out.
“I don’t believe you, prove it.”
“Metaphorically or metaphysically?”
“Just do it.”
A warning light came on and a klaxon began to sound, “Please vacate the premises,” said the MP, “there is a fire.”
“Well that’s stupid,” thought Millie, “I can’t vacate the premises, the blast doors are down.”
“Oh,” said the MP, “I forgot about that.”
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