GLADIATOR This is for The Executioner! <…Of course.> FLETCHER Are you all right? SWINTON Jesus Christ! FLETCHER Good. FLETCHER I keep a record of my dead. Their friends, their allies. I had you under surveillance three days before the police found The Executioner. I know your stage name is Whipsaw and your usual costume is steel-blue with spangles. I know your serial number and the day you rolled off the Krupgruppe line. I know you upgraded to Simmons Hardened Skin last spring and I know that the Kill Switch producer has decided to slag you next week. You’re an optical, Whipsaw. This is a sonic pistol. If I pull the trigger at this range, every crystal in your CPU will be glass dust. FLETCHER I suggest you toggle your pain and emotion switches. GLADIATOR Pain, yes. But I refuse to stop caring for the Executioner. FLETCHER We can talk more reasonably if you turn off the switch. GLADIATOR You’re a toaster. The humans are right, machines like you shouldn’t have the vote. GLADIATOR You’d better shoot me, mech. There are a lot of us who remember what you did. You’d better shoot and keep shooting. If you want to live, you don’t have a choice. FLETCHER There is always a choice.