“I'm counting to ten in my head.""Is it helping?""No.""It doesn't help me with you either. I used to life weights to alleviate frustration, but someone blowtorched my weight bench. How did you do it, by the way?""I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you.”

“I just don't know," I said, my voice sounding bumby, not like mine, "how do you help someone who doesn't want your help. What do you do when you can't do anything?”

“I wish I could tell my parents, " If you want to help me, help me die.”

“And anyway," I continue, lifting my head nobly, "who-ever it was, whether I knew them or not, if I could help them in some way, I would. I mean, if you can help, you have to help. Don't you think?”

“And I am not finished," I promised. "Tell me where to find the child.""F*** you!""I'm not attracted to you," I said. "But if by that you mean you won't help me, then I have no use for you.”

“Proving nothing," said Ford. "I wouldn't trust that computer to speak my weight.""I can do that for you, sure," enthused the computer, punching out more ticker tape. "I can even work out your personality problems to ten decimal places if it will help.”