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

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.

For this next test, we put nanoparticles in the gel. In layman's terms, that's a billion little gizmos that are going to travel into your bloodstream and pump experimental genes and RNA molecules and so forth into your tumors. Now, maybe you don't have any tumors. Well, don't worry. If you sat on a folding chair in the lobby and weren't wearing lead underpants, we took care of that too.

The two of you have formed an excellent partnership, with one of you handling the cerebral challenges and the other ready to ponderously waddle into action should the test suddenly become an eating contest.

Bean counters said I couldn't fire a man just for being in a wheelchair. Did it anyway. Ramps are expensive.