Robert Anderson found that he had been shot in the stomach. Fortunately, it is the year 2045, and humanity has become more humane.
“Congratulations,” the bullet, lodged in Robert’s stomach, said. “You’ve been shot by the Excelsior Bullet. The world’s first intelligent bullet. Judging from the impact and the damage, I calculate that you have five minutes to live. Would you like me to call an ambulance for you?”
“Yes, please.”
“Just one moment while I look up the number. While I’m in here, would you like me to check your cholesterol?”
“Just call the ambulance, please.”
“Sure thing! The ambulance will be on its way shortly.”
“How long?”
“Six minutes.”
“You just said I had five minutes to live.”
“So… do you have a religious preference?”
“I’m undecided.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not one of my religious options.”
“I guess I’ll go with Judaism.”
“You have selected ‘Judaism.’ Look what you’ve done! You should be ashamed of yourself! You bring shame to the family!”
“You know your stuff.”
“Looks like you’re down to three minutes. Would you like to get a weather update?”
“I don’t really care at this point.”
“Is there anybody you’d like me to call?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you have any last words?”
“I just want the world to know that when I said I hated the Han Solo movie, it’s not because of the lead guy’s acting. It’s more to do with the concept and the main character’s arc.”
“Understood. I will transmit your message to the proper authorities. Would you like me to pretend to tell you that you’re going to a better place?”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d hate to put you in that kind of position.”
“Very kind of you. And let me just say, on behalf of the Excelsior corporation, it’s been a pleasure killing you.”
“No problem.”