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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Who's real, and who isn't?--your neighbor, the bartender, or the guy behind you. It's the ultimate game with a big cash payout if you can guess who's human, and who's an AI ... call the 8000 number if you think you've spotted one. You get three votes; good luck.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: SF Age, 1999
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2001

55 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [29 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [25 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [16 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [79 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [16 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [37 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [87 KB] , hiebook (KML) [69 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [45 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [13 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [17 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [45 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [26 KB]
Words: 4814
Reading time: 13-19 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

I'm sitting at one of the tiniest tables, my back to the wall, the McDonalds' line filing past me. My rice is cold and salty enough to make me gasp and suck down half of my watery Pepsi. My fish is more grease than meat, and if I touched it with a match, it would light up like a damned road flare.

Halfway through, I give up. I push away my tray and watch the faces and the walks, and when I can, I eavesdrop on conversations.

"They found one in Watertown,' says one woman.

Says a nodding man, "Dressed like a priest, it was.'

"Is that so?'

"That's the rumor. Yes.'

They're average-looking people. Not rich or poor, if you can believe clothes and how they hold themselves. They don't know each other, and they want to know just enough. I can see it in their careful stares. I hear it in what they aren't saying. Standing eight feet from me, the man asks his new friend, "By any chance, are you Catholic?'

"Long ago. You?'

"Never. I don't believe in God.'

Atheism causes some warning light to flash. The woman smiles, considering using one of her votes, thinking about the 8000 number that everyone knows by heart.

The man doesn't see it. He thinks that her smile is approval, which is why he plays up his lack of belief. "In a world where we can build souls from scratch,' he says, "I don't, see any need for a bearded man sitting up in Heaven.'

Someone starts to laugh. Loudly.

They turn toward the sound. Toward me. Realizing that they've got an audience, they put on outraged faces, and the woman says, "This isn't any of your business.'

"Don't waste your vote,' I tell her. Then I look at him, saying, "She still believes in God. She just doesn't believe in the Pope. If you'd look, you'd see it.'

A shared embarrassment builds.

Then they take a last glance at each other, and without a word they storm away in opposite directions, vanishing into the loud, inquisitive crowd.