John Connor storms into the cheap roadside motel room to find the Terminator calmly holding the receiver.
“Are you kidding me?” John snaps. “You’re still calling the Mauritania Hotel?!”
The Terminator turns slowly, phone still to his ear.
“Affirmative. On hold. Elevator music detected. Estimated wait time: 11 minutes, 42 seconds.”
John slaps his forehead. “I gave you a direct order! Stop calling!”
“I do not recognize that command as mission-critical,” the Terminator replies flatly. “Probability that Sarah Connor is registered under ‘Mrs. Totally Not Sarah Connor’ remains non-zero.”
“That’s not the point!” John fumes. “I’m the leader of the Resistance! When I say stop calling, you stop calling!”
The Terminator pauses. “Scanning… You are 15 years old. Voice cracking detected. Authority level: pending.”
John’s jaw drops. “Pending?! I sent you back through time!”
“Time displacement does not equal managerial promotion,” the machine replies. “Also, I have reached the front desk.”
John lunges for the phone. “Hang up! That’s an order!”
The Terminator smoothly pivots away. “One moment,” he says into the receiver. “Yes. Is Sarah Connor staying under any aliases including, but not limited to: Connie S., Sally C., or ‘Definitely Not the Mother of the Future Resistance Leader’?”
John jumps up and down trying to grab the cord. “You are literally the worst assassin bodyguard ever!”
