Operation Mirror

The cab stopped in front of an unprepossessing brownstone. I had expected a gleaming high-tech monstrosity, but the name on the buzzer confirmed that I had come to the right place: The Institute for Psychoanalytic and Robotic Studies. I took a deep breath, buzzed, and entered.

"Mrs. Mandel?" the receptionist asked eagerly. Too eagerly, I thought. I nodded.

"Please have a seat. I'll tell Dr. Estes you're here."