"How come?’’
"You’d have to ask Bob Donovan about that,’’ Stacey says.
"Lou, let’s have Bob paged,’’ I say.
Bob comes into the office with a smear of grease on his white shirt over
the bulge of his beer gut, and he’s talking nonstop about what’s going on with
the breakdown of the automatic testing machines.
"Bob,’’ I tell him, "forget about that for now.’’
"Something else wrong?’’ he asks.
"Yes, there is. We’ve just been talking about our local celebrities, the
robots,’’ I say.
Bob glances from side to side, wondering, I suppose, what we’ve been
saying.
"What are you worried about them for?’’ he asks. "The robots work pretty
good now.’’
"We’re not so sure about that,’’ I say. "Stacey tells me we’ve got an excess of
Dostları ilə paylaş: