“Yes, you mentioned that, or Dill did.” Harold frowned as he wondered just how much of the zombie was Dill and how much Sam. The latter seemed to be dominant. “How will you achieve that, do you think?”
Behind the zombie, Gillian rolled her eyes and led their daughter along the rans of the golems. Harold had to look away from the oily grey slugs that slithered over his two year old and tried to concentrate of what Dill/Sam was talking about.
“...advances in robotic construction, especially in the Japanese market. It my be possible to produce a vinyl figure with injection moulding which, while not ideal, would at least be flexible enough for fine dexterity of movement. We did toy with the possibility of producing a central base unit much like these spirit cubes, though with the option for voluntary evacuation of course, ha-ha.”
The laugh was spoken rather than spontaneous, and caused Harold to look at the zombie in a new light. Sam was manipulative. He was sure the laugh had been to prompt Harold into dismissing the discussion as irrelevant. He elected to play along. “Ha, yes, that would be advantageous. You wouldn't want to be stuck in there again, would you?”
“No. You highlighted a distinct problem there. We'll have to run some tests to determine the possibility of reduced possession.” Sam turned to gaze at Gillian and Lucy as the went along the row of golems, deactivating each one in turn and releasing the human spirits. “It's lucky you had your little angel with you.”