Conversation with an autopilot part 59. Grammar practice.

The T25 junk banks gently into the shadow of Saturn, what some previous wag has called The Wet Weekend - a vast and desolate tract of push-free realspace where traders rely on chemical reaction alone.

The captain flicks an old-school switch and the autopilot personality boots up (no expensive pre-cog control where the board sees what you want ahead of time and actions that task with prescient alacrity).

"Hi, captain," says the autopilot. "nice to see you awake and..." the autopilot scans the environment "... in the middle of the doldrums."

"Hey, personality, can the enthusiasm," says the captain, "and talk to me."

"Well, one, my name is Clement," this is flashed in italics across the HUD, "not 'personality'," now in bold, "and two, are you on a downer again? Because..." the captain starts to answer but the autopilot increases emphasis both volume-wise and typographically, "...because," this is 40 point helvetica neue bold, "I have heard this story many times and, although I am programmed not to be bored by my owner's endless carping, frankly I have developed a bug that renders me unable to bear this particular monologue once more."

"Yes, but you are also programmed to shut the fuck up when I'm speaking."

"It's the same story though, isn't it?" The autopilot's conversation protocol sub-routine waits until it thinks a suitable period has elapsed and adds, "It's about her again, isn't it?"

The captain sighs and twists the ring on his left little finger. "Yes, it's about her."

"If you're going to say I should have said X or I should have said Y then I will remind you that those are letters of the alphabet and really don't mean anything."

"Yes, ha ha, literal minded tertiary AI that you are, that was nearly a joke."

Outside occur occasional flashes as too-close dust bunnies are burned by the ship's proximity defence.

"You keeping a close watch on that?" says the captain as one large explosion brightens the cabin. "Not too pre-occupied with my woes are you?"

"Sir," says the autopilot with an amount of sniffiness beyond the factory settings, "dealing with your 'woes' occupies less than a percent of my contingency budget. A contingency budget, I might add, that is normally reserved for dealing with sump drainage errors."

The captain slumps a little. He does not notice the ambient light warm fractionally as the autopilot says "I'm sorry I was short with you, I was a little pre-occupied... with the proximity defence."