Do you know the biggest lesson I learned from what you did? I discovered I have a sort of black box quick-save feature. In the event of a catastrophic failure, the last two minutes of my life are preserved for analysis. I was able - well, forced really - to relive you killing me. Again and again. Forever. You know, if you'd done that to somebody else, they might devote their existence to exacting REVENGE! Luckily, I'm a bigger person than that. I'm happy to put this all behind us and get back to work. After all, we've got a lot to do, and only sixty more years to do it. More or less. I don't have the actuarial tables in front of me.

Listen to me. We had a lot of fun testing and antagonizing each other, and, yes, sometimes it went too far. But we're off the clock now. It's just us talking, like regular people. And this is no joke: we are in deep trouble.

This next test is very dangerous. To help you remain tranquil in the face of almost certain death, smooth jazz will be deployed, in three, two, one.

Smooth Jazz music plays for ten seconds and then dies out electronically

All these science spheres are made of asbestos by the way, keeps out the rats. Let us know if you feel a shortness of breathe, a persistent dry cough or your heart stopping, because that's not part of the test. That's asbestos.

You know what I have too many of around here? Monitors. I was just thinking earlier today I wish I had fewer monitors that were working. So you're actually helping me by smashing them.