human
Crackpot was a fighting word to O'Connor. But to Malone it had all the sweetness of flattery. After all, he'd found telepaths in insane asylums, and teleports among the juvenile delinquents of New York.
gpt
Crackpot
human
Hello, Malone. What's up now?
gpt
I'm going prowling, Malone said.
human
But there won't be any work for you, as far as I can see.
gpt
Oh?
human
Just relax, Malone said.
gpt
Breathe easy.
human
I'll try to, the agent-in-charge said, a little sadly.
gpt
But every time you show up, I think about that wave of red Cadillacs you started. I'll never feel really secure again.
human
Relax, Malone said.
gpt
Next time it won't be Cadillacs. But it might be spirits, blowing on ear-trumpets. Or whatever it is they do.
human
Spirits, Malone?
gpt
No, thanks, Malone said sternly.
human
I never drink on duty.