For Mia’s benefit, I make the call. A ghost voice that’s not electric or alive answers; monotone but cheerful, it sounds somewhat stilted, possibly amoral. Everyone refers to it as the “electronic slut.” No interest in female degradation; they merely condemn cheap, automated, words from misguided electrons. The artificial voice thanks me for calling, puts me on hold to save someone’s time. Helpless, with nothing to do, my mind spins its wheels. . .
