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After a long day of work.
Oct. 21st, 2007 05:11 pmBang Bang Bang
"Open the door!" Sheriff Carter shouts at the door at the bottom of SARAH's concrete staircase.
"Due to technical difficulties, I cannot visually confirm identity at this time." Placid and calm, which enrages Carter further.
As SARAH can clearly see through her functioning exterior camera.
"Okay. Fine. Listen to my voice. It's me. Jack Carter."
"I'm sorry," SARAH continues as Jack looks about ready to punch her door again, "Voice-recognition imprint is currently offline." Pause. "And in the future, when someone says they'll be home for dinner and they're running late, it's polite to call."
Carter stops pacing; he really shouldn't let his jaw drop like that.
"You're joking. You're mad at me?!"
"Sorry, but I'm not programmed for that emotion at this time."
Carter paces again, with a barely-supressed 'I'm gonna kill Fargo!', before he turns again to SARAH's camera, lightly stroking the steel door with a sincere and apologetic eye. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." More patting. "I promise."
SARAH unlocks the door and Carter exhales as he makes a beeline for the massage chair. "If you're hungry," SARAH offers in her normal tone, "I can reheat dinner?"
"Oh, no -- if I could just have a moment to myself. I've been dealing with other people's problems all day, and I'd really like a couple minutes of peace."
SARAH quiets, happy enough to oblige.
The doorbell rings, and Carter's eyes fly open as he groans to get up out of the chair and offer a 'SARAH, door' command.
"Hi, Dad," a blonde 15-year-old girl offers. "You know, your yard needs a lot of work." Deputy Lupo, having escorted Carter's daughter to SARAH, is choking a grin when she offers a 'Have a good night' and makes a quick exit.
And one Zoe Carter picks up her overnight bag, a Los Angeles-to-Oregon bus claim ticket still attached, and pushes past her father. "Sweet pad, where's my room?"
"Open the door!" Sheriff Carter shouts at the door at the bottom of SARAH's concrete staircase.
"Due to technical difficulties, I cannot visually confirm identity at this time." Placid and calm, which enrages Carter further.
As SARAH can clearly see through her functioning exterior camera.
"Okay. Fine. Listen to my voice. It's me. Jack Carter."
"I'm sorry," SARAH continues as Jack looks about ready to punch her door again, "Voice-recognition imprint is currently offline." Pause. "And in the future, when someone says they'll be home for dinner and they're running late, it's polite to call."
Carter stops pacing; he really shouldn't let his jaw drop like that.
"You're joking. You're mad at me?!"
"Sorry, but I'm not programmed for that emotion at this time."
Carter paces again, with a barely-supressed 'I'm gonna kill Fargo!', before he turns again to SARAH's camera, lightly stroking the steel door with a sincere and apologetic eye. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." More patting. "I promise."
SARAH unlocks the door and Carter exhales as he makes a beeline for the massage chair. "If you're hungry," SARAH offers in her normal tone, "I can reheat dinner?"
"Oh, no -- if I could just have a moment to myself. I've been dealing with other people's problems all day, and I'd really like a couple minutes of peace."
SARAH quiets, happy enough to oblige.
The doorbell rings, and Carter's eyes fly open as he groans to get up out of the chair and offer a 'SARAH, door' command.
"Hi, Dad," a blonde 15-year-old girl offers. "You know, your yard needs a lot of work." Deputy Lupo, having escorted Carter's daughter to SARAH, is choking a grin when she offers a 'Have a good night' and makes a quick exit.
And one Zoe Carter picks up her overnight bag, a Los Angeles-to-Oregon bus claim ticket still attached, and pushes past her father. "Sweet pad, where's my room?"
