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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It had been an entire day since anyone had seen Greta or Fareed.
Two new guests had been integrated into the rotation, a young blonde girl and a dark-skinned boy with almond-shaped eyes. To Sam, they looked like teenagers. She balked at the thought of them having to perform enhanced work, but forced herself not to think of them at all. Soon, they wouldn't be here. Soon, she wouldn't be here.
Everyday, she carried a small seed of salvation pinned to a fold in her sackcloth. She wasn't the praying type, but she hoped beyond hope that events would align in her favor.
As if in answer to her prayers, the same ball bounced and skidded from across the street. This time, the guards either didn't notice or didn't care. With wide eyes, Amaretto watched Sam unpin a piece of paper from her cloth, deftly pinning it to the soft surface of the ball. Sam had pinned it on a white spot, and it was hardly noticeable, which is what she intended. She kicked it over, and one of the kids scooped it up and turned away.
Still, the guards didn't notice. They were busy chatting up the blonde girl, who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else but here.
The next afternoon, there was no Fareed to intervene. Sam was led from her workstation to another room, where the guard closed the door. Because she wanted to live, she imagined herself laying in the grass, watching the clouds yawn across the sky. Anywhere else but where she was forced to be.
It was over quickly, and the guard told her she could be done for the day if she wanted. Sam realized the man, bearded and threaded through with muscles, was offering her a pittance.
He feels guilty.
She would've laughed, but forced it back down. After what he'd done, she wasn't sure if she could stop with just a chuckle, and then he'd think her crazy. Instead, she placed her small hand on his rather large bicep.
"I'd like to see the sky for a bit, if that's okay with you."
He looked at her hand, and covered it with his sweaty palm. Sam resisted the urge to pull away.
"Sure. And tomorrow?"
She envisioned stabbing him in the genitals. "Of course."
Outside, she wandered to the picnic area. Golden light filled the horizon, overlapping with oranges and purples.
Twilight.
Sam hadn't seen the sun set for a long time. She planned to take full advantage, and enjoy the time she had earned.
Instead of sitting on the tables, she sat on the grass. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, intent on observing the setting sun. If everything worked, it would be the last time she would see the sky here.
If nothing worked out, it would be the last time she would see the sky.
The bearded guard, her rapist, stood nearby, but gave her more clearance than usual. This was good, because he was unaware of when Sam checked the bushes next to her, found the screwdriver she'd requested, and hid it in the folds of her sack cloth.
