Narrator:Medibay one, Aboard the mercenary superfortress 'Post-dated check loan.' Can the patient be saved?
Bunni:This is amazing. The man on the table is a perfect copy of you, better than a twin, beter even than a clone could be.
DoytHaban:(haban) Except for the hole in his head.
Bunni:Well, ye. About that hole, by the way...
Bunni:When you get past the 'gross-out' factor, it looks like we're dealing with the total destruction of eighty-five to ninety-percent of the memory and personality centers of the brain. The artificial intelligence in the spine and brain-stem is undamaged, though.
DoytHaban:(haban) So the Haban-half lives on. (doyt) But my doyt-twin is dead.
Bunni:Pretty much. Theoretically we could insert a raw neural mesh and your 'Doyt-twin' could grow into it. But he'd have almost no memories in common with you, and a completely different personality.
Bunni:The cost is high, and the morality is questionable, but I don't harbor any doubts about whether or not it would be an improvement.
DoytHaban:(doyt, thinking) Hey...
Narrator:Note: Doyt is actually several hours behind here... He's just now getting haban's dig from thursday's strip.
DoytHaban:(haban) There's only one way to find out...
Bunni:I'll lift the lid. You haul the patient.
Narrator:A bit later, inside the illegally modified cryokit...
EMH:Uh-oh. I was rather hoping I wouldn't see you here again. That hole looks pretty nasty. I guess the infamous Doyt Gyo finally got himself killed permanently.
EMH:Hmmm... Haban's I/O port is burnt out. No conversation with my patient this time-- what a shame. You may still be operational in there, Haban, but the rest of this corpse is pretty much a waste of good protein. They might as well give you a fully mechanical support system rather than have me patch this meat-machine up.
EMH:If it were up to me i'd just recycle the meat, what with the organic brain bits being shot out, but I suppose they threw you in here for a reason. Let me see what I can do...
EMH:Oooh... There's an airhead joke waiting to be made here. I wish i were programmed to tell it.
Narrator:Actually, we're glad you're not. Four wise-cracking A.I.s in one web-comic is five too many.
Footnote:Family unfriendly?: My three-and-a-half-year-old son looked at the last row of today's strip and said "uh-oh. Dead." He then pointed to Doyt's head and said "owie."And then he walked away cheerfully, holding his right ear and saying "Owie, owie, owie."It's a good thing my children don't watch television. There are daytime commercials out there worse than a mere head-wound. I COULD be coming home and finding my son woop-wooping his fist in the air and saying "Oprah, Oprah, Oprah."Owie indeed.