Less Than Human by Maxine McArthur

she said.
    “I can’t tell you that.” The technician sounded almost cheerful.
    “Look, all I’m doing is trying to make sure a similar accident doesn’t happen again.”
    “No, I mean I can’t check the other welder because Zecom recalled it.”
    “When?”
    “Yesterday afternoon. They brought a replacement along, too.” This last was a dig at Tomita, which hadn’t yet organized a
     replacement—because Eleanor hadn’t finished the report.
    “This is the number they said to call.” He gave her a number with a long-distance prefix.
    “Thanks.” She closed the connection. Zecom might just be playing the public relations game, demonstrating that they put safety
     first and were prepared to take a loss if it was necessary to protect lives. But a company as large as Zecom wouldn’t bother
     about a customer as minor as Kawanishi, especially not in these times of stringent budgets. Since the Seikai boom began to
     slow, everyone feared a return to the depression of the early 2000s. Zecom would be no exception.
    Zecom might have recalled their welder because they thought it had been affected by whatever happened to the Tomita welder.
     The two companies were rivals in a number of fields, including industrial robotics. Zecom was where Akita had gone after he
     left Tomita. He hadn’t stayed there long, obviously. Too much of a prima donna, she thought waspishly.
    After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped Zecom’s number. It was nearly nine o’clock; somebody should be there.
    “Robotics lab. What’s the problem?” The whining voice sounded unpleasantly familiar. The other person to leave Tomita for
     Zecom. The one she didn’t want to have to ask for favors.
    “Hello, Nakamura-san. This is McGuire, from Tomita.”
    “My goodness. McGuire-san.” Nakamura sounded less surprised than she expected. “It’s been a long time.”
    “Yes, it has. How’s everything there?”
    “Wonderful. I’ve got a very fulfilling job here.”
    And you were totally neglected and downtrodden here, Eleanor said to herself. “Excellent. Um, the reason I’m calling is that
     we recalled one of our robots, a T56 welder, because of an accident. You might have seen it in the papers. We’re sure it was
     human error, but I have found a couple of m … minor discrepancies in the controller log …” She inwardly cursed her stumbling
     tongue.
    “Why are you calling here, then?” Nakamura interrupted.
    “Because you … I mean, Zecom, recalled one of your 316 Series welders that was also at the factory.
    “I don’t know anything about that.” Nakamura’s tone grew more pompous. “I’ve moved on from simple industrial stuff. This is
     our main research lab, you know.”
    Eleanor gritted her teeth. “Yes, I know. But the floor manager at Kawanishi—that’s the factory where the accident happened—he
     said the Zecom people gave him this number to call if he had any queries.”
    Short silence. She wished she could see his face. “Can you activate your video?”
    “Sorry, we can’t show outsiders our lab.” He cleared his throat with a self-conscious eh-hem, another of his little habits.
    “So, is your 316 from Kawanishi there or not?”
    “I’ll go and check. As a personal favor to you.”
    He’d think it funny to put her in his debt.
    “Possibly the carriers gave this number by mistake,” he added.
    A synthesizer rendition of an old Japanese folk tune replaced Nakamura’s voice. The simplistic melody reminded Eleanor of
     the nationalist trucks that had patrolled the streets of Osaka in prereform days, blaring lullabies and military songs so
     loudly that you couldn’t talk as they drove by.
    After a couple more bars the song faded, and a high female voice began telling Eleanor about Zecom’s many achievements in
     the robotics industry.
    … first machine tool factory in the world to use completely automated … international links formed in the 1990s have …
    She wondered if you could put the latest