Ty, a shift manager with an alcoholic wife, creates a female replicant in a dystopia veering toward full mechanization. For Ty, the surreal drudgery of working in a retail environment is interrupted when robotic interfaces are installed at his job...
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Instinctively, Ty reached across the bed, searching for a shoulder, an arched back. His hand came up empty. Of course the bed was empty.
The (semi) Jennifer, true to her word, slept in the backroom. She was either proving a point or giving Ty space. Maybe both. Despite himself, Ty appreciated the gesture. There'd been plenty of times when he and Old Jennifer had argued, only to share the same bedroom and end up making up in a very messy and easy way. Then he would forget why they had fought, and she would wrong him all over again.
This issue couldn't be solved with a magic eraser.
Though, it was a very tempting solution. Ty cleared his throat, adjusting his pants and quelling the heat rising in his body. He found if he thought too hard on what the (semi) Jennifer was capable of, he ended up hanging his head over the toilet.
A soft raprap thudded on the door. He sat, combing fingers through his hair.
"Yeah?"
When Damon opened the door, Ty kept the disappointment off his face. If (semi) Jennifer wasn't real, why did he want to see her anyway?
Whatever mixed up emotions he had were quickly shelved as Damon described the information he had. Through various contacts, he'd obtained a list of holding facilities, narrowing them to those in the state. Then, using fancy hacker-shit techniques, he had unlocked the detainee lists until he'd found Sam's name.
"I know where she is, and if we move soon, we might have a shot," Damon said.
"Okay. What do we do?"
Damon paused, looking unsure. "You're okay to go with me?"
Ty met his brother's eyes. "I need to go with you."
Damon nodded. "Okay."
He proceeded to explain how and when they would save Sam.
