'Paul': You've no idea what you're facing...Mindmistress: Oh. Really. Let me tell you something you may not know about my armor--it periodically monitors my health--sending results to my artificial intelligence, Vicki.Mindmistress (Caption):  It runs an advanced MRI type scan of my body--harmless to me--to cells within--but would fry anything mechanical, electrical, or metallic.  Next scan's in ten minutes.

Paul:  What?  Ten minutes?  Can you delay it?   Mindmistress: My, you sound --terrified.  I'll delay it till twenty minutes have passed.  Vicki?  Next bioscan?  Dealyed an addtional ten minues.  Vicki: Got it, Boss.Mindmistress: Now, in nineteen minutes, I'm going to blow my nose into this kleenex.  If I'm hosting anything--or anyone--you're concerned about--well...time to hit the road.  Or...nose, maybe. 'Paul': ...Well-played.



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