“I mean, look at them all,” Giles said, motioning towards the travelers with his glass. “Scurrying along, no thought for anything but their destination. It’s as if they’ve a vile little chip in their brain, programming every motion.”
The woman snorted indelicately. “We could program them better than that,” she said.
“Sorry?” She had clearly already imbibed too freely from the airport bar.
“Besides, they can hardly be blamed, can they?” she continued. “These preposterous seats, this being lined up like schoolchildren. It sucks the very soul from your body, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” Giles said.