It's 2141. Clones have taken over as the dominant species. Using brain nanochips to surveil thoughts and actions, they have pushed traditional humans down to a status of low-class workers in a discriminatory dystopia.
A nineteen-year-old aspiring me...
The rest of that Friday morning went as uneventfully as it could have been expected, until our receipt and invoicing software crashed sometime around midday, before lunch break.
"Not now, bloody laptop!" Kono yelled in frustration. She even smashed a hand on the counter. "I hate you!"
"What's the matter, Kono?" I asked while coming closer to her.
"The screen is glitching a lot. It doesn't stop. The program's frozen. I can't print the receipt for an urgent home delivery."
I took a look at the screen. It looked like a malware was hosting a wild bachelor party on the hard drive, hiring a Trojan as a stripper and a ransomware as a DJ.
"Try Layla's tablet instead," I suggested. "Or some other laptop."
"I've already tried other laptops. None work. And Layla's in a meeting with an important provider." Her frustration echoed in my heart.
"Let's call the IT crowd straight away," I suggested sweetly. "What's the name and number of the IT company?"
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A few minutes later, a young woman with pitch-black hair and huge sunglasses entered Oyster and introduced herself as the IT expert who would save the day.
"Gotta love that pixie cut," Kono whispered to me while eyeing her up and down when she was already focused on fixing the glitch on the laptop on the shop's counter. "Ow, those ash-blue baggy clothes are mean on her curves. Shame."
Kono was softly biting her lower lip. I chuckled.
"Well, maybe you could use that as an ice-breaker," I whispered back to her. "Give her some fashion tips, you know."
I hadn't spared a glance her way, to be honest. But right at that moment, I was just staring at the IT technician, and something about her irked me.
If I had been a meaner person, I would have sworn that IT woman looked a bit like Momo. Her age, her height, the way her lips moved, those hands (with that trendy manicure style). All those were too similar. She was wearing too much makeup, as well, like Momo.
Those sunglasses. We were inside the shop. Yes, it had glass walls, and the midday sun was shooting its powerful rays at us, true, but... why wouldn't she take them off once inside?
Was my mind playing tricks on me?
I felt divided. Part of me claimed there was no reason to doubt a person I had just met. But a different part of me reminded me of the attempt on my life, using it as a reason to suspect absolutely anyone around me. Was I becoming paranoid like my grandmother? I didn't want that.
Besides, I was sure that at that moment Momo was still imprisoned in a cell down the basement of the rebels' home.
"Would you mind giving us some minutes alone, Daphne?" Kono asked me, whispering with naughtiness. "Go ahead. Go to the canteen and save me some fried grasshoppers, will you?" She winked at me.
