Chapter 60
The General frowned as he looked down at his leg. The DocBot had settled on his knee, its holo now resembling a serene little fat figure, sitting cross-legged on a plinth. A thousand years in the past, before religion, philosophy and art had been squeezed to the margins by the brutal necessity of staying alive, such an image would have been instantly recognised as a Buddha.
Immediately, the General became suspicious. DocBots were excellent at diagnosis and treatment, but the human interface algorithm was notoriously underdeveloped. The logic was simple and predictable: the more pleasant the image, the more unpleasant the upcoming treatment.
And the composed little figure with closed eyes and calm, eternal face was extremely pleasant to look at.
Which meant of course the trea
