Two men stood in the early-morning shadow of the building behind them.

"Parlor tricks. I'm tired of the parlor tricks, Peck. I want a thinking thing here, not the lobotomized slabs of metal that sing out trivia answers."

"No you don't," said Peck. "Because then it'll stop telling you what you want to hear."

"Why are you still here, then?" The long-haired man crossed his arms. His breath billowed out into the air. "You know that's what I'm making." His arms shaky, he dropped the last of his cigarette on the ground.

Peck crushed it under his shoe. "Because someone needs to help you destroy it when you realize it was a mistake."

A taxi came around the roundabout and pulled up to the curb. Someone got out, their face pointed up in awe of the building.

"Nevermind, he's here." The long-haired man left his partner behind to greet the new arrival, shivering in his unkempt dress shirt as a light layer of snow crunched under his shoes.