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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Sam took a deep breath before willingly walking into her room. She had learned it was better than being pushed.
Her one-hour allotment flew by, as it always did. The rest of the twenty-three hours was spent in her cold, dark hovel, complete with a barred window placed too high up for her to look through. Like everything else in this place, the window was a cruel joke. It was a way to elicit false hope, and then stamp it back down. Because really and truly, there was no getting out of here. From the layout, the twenty-three hour confinement, and the mush the guards called "food," it was clear she had been sent to the bad place.
During her time out of her room, she never saw Martine. She never saw anyone but the same guard that had been assigned to shuffling her back-and-forth: forth to the small standing shower, then back to the small cement block prison.
"And I'm going to die here," she whispered to no one.
She said the words aloud, the ones that had been scaring her for weeks, because the thick walls swallowed them.
