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Wally: According to my fitness tracker, I took 20,000 steps yesterday. Alice: What? That's double what I did. You won't win this! I will run to the ends of the earth to beat your step count! Dilbert: Do you really have a fitness tracker? Wally: No, it looks like a lot of work.
Doctor: IBM's Watson supercomputer has diagnosed your symptoms. The computer just ordered the meds you need. They will be delivered in an hour by drone. Dilbert: Looks like your job as a doctor is becoming obsolete. Doctor: Ha ha! No. You still need a doctor and a nurse to make the system work. For example, the computer can't read its own screen and speak those words to patients. Dilbert: Actually, it can. Doctor: But the computer doesn't have a nurse. Dilbert: What does the nurse do? Nurse: I stab him if he tries to do more than read the screen.
Dilbert: Looks like another day of flailing toward arbitrary goals. I will battle my way through a sea of idiots, much like the zombie apocalypse. My ego will be tested and my nervous system will be degraded. And all of this is to earn money so I can... buy items that scientists and product designers have brainwashed me to crave. But I get back at them by writing software they think they can't live without. My life is like two piles of meat trying to play ping pong. Alice: Stop mumbling and take care of this. Dilbert: You take care of it.
Alice: Looks like I'll be adding this guy to my list. Dilbert: List? Alice: I keep a list of who to visit first when society breaks down and there is no rule of law. Dilbert: To build alliances? Alice: That's the sort of optimism that gets you killed in the first hour.
Carol: I hear you're a terrorist sympathizer. Asok: What? No! I'm not even close. I don't want to hate you! Please stop radicalizing me! Carol: Sweating, agitated, he looks suspicious to me. Asok: Who are you talking to???!
Boss: Can you get me more details on the financial projections? Dilbert: Sure. I wrote an app that generates random numbers, just in case you asked for them. Boss: 17, 4, 962... Yes, this looks about right.
Dilbert: Is it true that you invented a device with human intelligence and human emotions? Wally: Yes. I'd give you a demo, but the device is depressed and wants to be left alone. Dilbert: It looks like a block of wood. Wally: I'm only trying to copy the human mind. There's no reason to over-engineer it. Dilbert: I can respect that.
Wally: I have a note from my doctor. It says I'm too sensitive to handle criticism. I don't understand all the medical details. It has something to do with the mind-body connection. One minor criticism from you and my lungs will collapse. If that happens, you'll need to pinch my nose, create a seal with your mouth, and reinflate them. Boss: This doctor's note looks like your handwriting. Wally: Ow! My lung!