“We were really worried when you wouldn't return my texts.” Dill stroked the metal chest as gently as a lover after passionate morning sex. “I wondered if you've been purged from the system or maybe shunted into an offline hard drive.”
The golem pushed him gently to one side and raised both arms. Harold an d Gillian held a respective breath which, Harold thought later, was a little stupid since Gillian only breathed for the look of it. It was a useful method to increase oxygen to her blood and prolonged the life of of the stolen fluid considerably, but being dead she had no actual need to breath. It was just a habit she found hard to break.
He needn't have worried. Instead of making any threatening moves, the golem mimed pulling off its head, then feeling sad.
“I don't understand.” Dill looked back at Harold, who shrugged.
“I've no idea what he's going on about. You'd think they'd have functional voices.”
“Yes. That would have to be an improvement we work on.” Dill pulled out his mobile phone and tapped a note into the memory. “Perhaps an electronic voice, rather than all the bother of bellows and vocal cords.”
“You could teach him sign language.” Gillian dropped off the top of the blast door. “Tedious but handy in a firefight.”
The golem reached for Dill's phone.
“Or he could just write down whatever he wanted to say.” Harold grinned. “That'd work, too.”