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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In the oval mirror, Ty pulled at his cheeks. He pouted his lips.
I just don't see it.
Even after all this time, he still wondered how his DNA could create an attractive woman like Sam.
After one final look in the mirror, he recognized that he might be cracking. The pressure of accepting (semi) Jennifer, coupled with the loss of Sam was too much. If he and Damon could not get her back, he didn't know how he could get back to his old self.
On his way out of the bathroom, he tripped over a mass of curls and chubby limbs.
"Daddy, nigh nigh," Helia said, tiny arms interlocking around his knees.
A knot inside of his heart twisted. "G'nite, sweetie."
For her, he could pretend to be his old self.
From the hallway, (semi) Jennifer smirked. "She's supposed to be in bed, but you know her. She had to hug you goodnight."
"Yeah, I know her."
Lightly, she caught Ty by the arm. Helia slipped by in a whirlwind of toddler babbling nonsense.
"You're getting her tonight." The new Jennifer nodded at his all-black get-up.
"Yes," he said, extricating himself from her warm touch.
"Be---careful," she said haltingly, as though she felt silly saying the words.
"I will."
Ty was startled when she pulled him in for a hug. Her small head rested against his chest, arms encircling round his back. He told himself he didn't want to, but he inhaled deeply, her perfume-scented hair hitting him sharply.
She tilted her head up, as she had done thousands of times before, (only she hadn't), and pressed her lips against his. The kiss fired through his every limb, and he responded eagerly. All the excuses he'd reserved before seemed stupid as hell now.
She felt like Jennifer.
With stilted breath, she pulled away to say, "I'm sleeping in your bed tonight. When you come home, it's your choice if you to join me, or take the couch."
He reflected on his choices as he pedaled faster. It was Damon's idea to ride bikes to the compound to attract less attention. That worked for Ty, because he found bike rides relaxing. The entire sixty minute ride, that's exactly what he tried: to relax. Breathing, re-focusing, humming to himself--- nothing quelled the ebbing tide of dread.
What if they arrived and were shot on sight? What if, and this twisted inside him the deepest, they arrived to find Sam gone, or dead?
Damon peddled ahead of him, always a little bit ahead. He knew where they were going, and Ty did not.
Signaling a stop, Damon hopped off his bike. Ty followed, and they stashed the bikes in a winding alley.
"We're close," Damon said.
They hurried on foot for approximately five minutes, hugging the road. No cars passed, and rows of trees ran parallel to the street. Damon darted into an unmarked path in the woods, and Ty went with. On a hill several hundred yards ahead were several brick buildings. They looked inviting, with inlaid windows, a picnic area, and shining lights to illuminate the dark night.
"That's the place?" Ty asked incredulously.
"Yes." Damon stopped, and pointed. "That look like Sam to you?"
They were still a ways away, but in the near-deserted landscape, a lone figure stood out. Whoever it was lingered at the edge of a building, peering around the corner.
The way the figure stood, the shape of their head...
