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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Damon chewed the apple thoughtfully. Why did composites always taste funny? He eyed the 3D printer responsible for composing the rest of breakfast: eggs, bacon, and wheat toast. Though he owned the machine for months now, the blurs of red, yellow, and brown swirling together still dropped his jaw. The food seemed to be made of air, but as he scooped up the first bite of eggs, he decided air might taste more authentic.
He clicked words on the keyboard, one letter at a time. His brother hated his typing style, but Damon couldn't help it. As it stood, the code was far from ready. He slammed fork fulls of eggs into his mouth, intent on running another trial before Helia came rushing in to bother him. Though cute, her penchant for wall-art deducted a few points.
"Hey man." Ty stuck his head in the doorway. "I'm about to leave. Can you keep an eye on Helia for me?"
Damon answered with a mouth full of composite bacon. "What's Jennifer doing?"
Ty scratched his head. "She's uh, still sleeping. I promised her she could sleep in today, before I remembered I work the day shift."
The lie was barely disguised as an excuse. However, Damon loved his brother, and he sure loved his niece, so he pretended to believe Ty. "Yeah, I can watch her while Jennifer sleeps."
Ty looked relieved. "Thanks." He stepped into the room to check himself in the mirror. "I fed Helia breakfast, real breakfast, not the composite shit you eat." Damon stuck out his tongue, but continued eating. "She's watching TV right now. Do I look okay?"
"It's called an interface, not a TV. You're old." In answer to his brother's question, "You're so beautiful I might cry."
"Fuck you."
"And what if your daughter heard that?"
On his way out of Damon's room, Ty punched him in the arm. "G'bye, shithead. Make sure Helia doesn't order junk from the 3D."
Damon nodded, already contradicting his promise by snatching up codes for blueberry cobbler. He would feed it to Helia right before Ty got back. Aw, the perks of being an uncle.
~*~
Ty Benning left home after kissing his daughter goodbye, and checking on his wife one last time. She slept in a coma-like state, drool forming on her pillow.
Damon was no idiot. Even at eighteen-years old, he knew the gist of his brother's failing marriage. Most of it, he attributed to Jennifer's laziness, but he didn't grasp the depth of her selfishness.
It wasn't the first morning Ty had rolled over and smelled the foul air of his intoxicated wife. He hardly minded, not for the reasons he should have. He liked going through Helia's morning routine. With him, she was a laughing toddler. With Jennifer, Ty always heard screaming and fighting.
He mounted his bike. Two neighbors shot him funny looks as he adjusted his helmet. He had a gas-guzzler sitting in the driveway, but he only drove it when getting groceries or taking Helia to the park.
On the way, Ty didn't pass any other bike-riding citizens. He got the usual glares from drivers, and the ugly hand gestures when he failed to move out of the way fast enough. Mostly, he concentrated on the scenery flashing by, green intermixed with white blossoms hanging from the trees.
He spied three children playing jump rope, using interfaces to create an energy field to hop over. They waved as he passed, and he waved back.
He stared at the large revolver tucked into one of the child's pants, a girl of about twelve. She caught him looking, and in answer, cocked her fingers like a gun, complete with a wink. He shook his head, trying to focus on the rest of the bike ride in peace.
~*~
A/N: Dedicated to Margaret Atwood, one of my favorite sci-fi writers. Much of my inspiration stems from her novels, most recently the Oryx and Crake series.
