— Omah learns about nano-generators, commonly called n-gens. —
“Ship!” he said out loud, not being able to remember the correct name of the intelligent machine. “Can you hear me? R19 or whatever you’re called. Ah, it had something to do with water. Now I remember. R1902, do you hear me?”
“I hear you Omah. But my correct name is R19020.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The ship’s voice was low, soft and soothing. But Omah couldn’t tell if it was male or female.
“Can you put the light on please? I’m not sleepy.”
The light came up to a comfortable day-time level.
“Thanks! Also, I need something to eat. I’m starving!”
“Your last century was the late 13th of the 6th Age. Do you recall it?”
“Some of it.”
“Do you recall microwave ovens?”
“Yes.”
“Now we have nano-generators. Some call them n-gens. They create almost anything, up to the size capacity of the generator, from a block of white plasma. To the right of your desk, above the bookcase, you will see its door. You may tell it what you want yourself by speaking clearly. But now I will do it for you.”
“I see it.”
“What would you like to eat?”
“Roast chicken with bread sauce, mushrooms, carrots, sprouts and gravy. Followed by hot apple pie and cream.”
“Coming right up!”
“You sound like one of those vid chefs!”
“When you see a red, flashing light, you can safely open the door.”
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