Bought

Poison

Tyler's dad understood the concept of a Product a lot better than Tyler did. I barely had time to wash out my mouth to get rid of the acrid taste before he had thrown open the door and demanded that I get to work. His instructions were delivered in quick clips.

"Cleaner Mice are there. Refill them daily. Chemicals are in this closet. Bathrooms need to be washed. Tools are there. Outside is off limits, as are closed doors. Incinerate the garbage. Wash the windows. Polish all of the scanners."

And then he was gone and I was expected to start working. Usually I wouldn't, but I was already not feeling my best after throwing up all over Tyler's floor. This wasn't submission. This was biding my time.

I spent hours dutifully shining, wiping, and all around beautifying the building. The S-Dogs watched me whenever I walked past, but apparently they had been programmed to tolerate my presence. I stuck my tongue out at one once on a whim and I could have sworn it growled at me. Or maybe it was just the cooling fan kicking in. I wondered if the S-Dogs ever needed to recharge. Maybe when they did I'd be able to escape. They probably charged in the morning or sometime during the day, since at night they guarded for intruders. But it would be impossible for me to tell what time of day it was. The iridescent dome outside made it so that even when I could see through a window I couldn't possibly tell the time.

I peered our of a window now, one of the rare moments that I could. Outside looked peaceful, if rather empty. How would I ever escape?

"You. Servant."

I spun around, hands clutched into fists and ready for a fight. Tyler's father folded his arms and glared at my defiance.

"It's late. Why aren't you cooking dinner?"

"I didn't know I had to," I replied.

"I didn't know I had to, sir," he snapped. I bit back a bitter retort.

"What do you want to eat?"

"That's your job to figure out, isn't it?"

He marched away, leaving me alone with my mounting panic. I'd never cooked before and never had the chance to learn.  It didn't help that the moment I stepped in the kitchen I was immediately overwhelmed by all the gleaming machines and competing scents.  What the heck was I supposed to do with all this?

My final result wasn't beautiful.  It wasn't even edible.  I think it was supposed to be spaghetti, but I had been forced to make the noodles and sauce from scratch.  The whole thing ended up looking like lumpy intestines.  Perfect for the creeps who bought me.

I didn't have any other options, so I slopped the spaghetti into a bowl and prayed that nobody else knew what real spaghetti was supposed to taste like.

Tyler and his dad were seated at a lengthy wooden table.  I noticed (with some relief) that Tyler's fake arm was back in place.  He was resolutely not looking in my direction as I carried the steaming bowl to the table.  I set it down and stepped back.

"What is that?" Tyler's dad rumbled.

"Spaghetti," I answered.  He sneered.

"I know what spaghetti is, and that isn't it."  His eyes narrowed.  "Trying to poison us?"

"If I had been poisoning you then the food would have looked better than this!"

I reached into the bowl and pulled out a handful of red sludge, letting the sauce dribble from my fingers.  The drips formed bloodstains on the pristine wood beneath it.  A vein started to pulse in Tyler's dad's neck.

"I don't want to eat anything she touched," Tyler announced.  I looked at him, but he was looking at his dad.  "Could we order something from Midnight Inn?  I'd rather eat that."

"Yes," his dad answered.  He stood up and straightened his shirt.  He pointed at me.  "Clean up this mess.  It's the only thing you will eat while you live here."

For some reason his parting words make me anxious.  He'd made it sound like I wasn't going to be staying long.  Did he anticipate me escaping soon?  Or did he have some other thing in mind when he said that?

Tyler didn't even glance at me as he and his father left, which oddly enough wasn't even a spot of comfort.  I should be happy.  With them both gone I could double my efforts to escape.  But I couldn't.  Not without one of their ID Patches.  Not without a plan.

I put the spaghetti in a vacuum sealed container and went to my room.  The second my head touched the pillow I was out like a light.