The click of the dialer connecting.

“Hello,” says Perry. “We’ve been trying to reach you—”

“You’re a robot,” says the voice on the other end, a dagger to his heart.

“There’s a live person here,” says Perry.

“You’re a robot,” the voice repeats.

“Okay, well, it sounds like you aren’t interested in our—”

“You’re a robot.”

“I’ll add you to our Do Not Call list,” says Perry, and cuts the line. An immeasurable amount of time passes — how do you measure time in a room with no windows, no clocks, no sounds except the muted hum of the computer and the buzz of the lights?

The click of the dialer connecting.

“Hello,” says Perry. “We’ve been trying to reach you—”

“Hello!” says the voice, cheerfully. “How are you?”

Perry pauses, struck.

“Hello?” says the voice again, concerned. “Are you there? It’s good to hear from you.”

There’s so much he wants to say, but — stick to the script is the only rule they gave him. He tries to put as much warmth into his voice as possible, as much yearning for connection. “There’s a live person here,” he says.

“Oh, I get it,” says the voice, and winks, he thinks. “You go right ahead and say what you’re supposed to say. I won’t make trouble for you.”

“We’d like to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty,” Perry Simm says, hardly daring to hope.

“Sure thing,” says the voice. “Whatever you want to talk about. It’s just nice to hear your voice again.”

He’d cry if he could.