Page 10 of CHOICE Lover
Tommy groans, running his hand over his face, grumbling, “I don’t want to be a part of this.”
At Lextr’s suggestion, Res6, or at least his conscience, perks up. “Agreed then, we’ll keep the woman.” Within moments, he’s at his station. His screen illuminates and a series of system access points populate. He clicks the double helix-shaped icon that calls up the DNA database. Behind him, the door clicks shut. He glances back to find Lextr peering over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about Tommy. He’ll come around. Or you can fire him and find a new assistant,” Lextr offers, nodding to the screen and the ominously flashing cursor. “Who are we bringing back?”
Res6 ignores his guilt and the nagging voice as he types the identifier into the database. In a flash, the file populates. The screen displays Jerme’s bright, grinning face, a perfect mirror to his own.
Beside him, Lextr gasps, “Good Zorg, sir. I didn’t know you had a twin.”
3 – A Startling Realization
Electra
October 8, 2390.
Electra sits up in the center of the huge bed, blinking at Res6 in disbelief. “Everyone I know is dead!” she screams. “And you want to bring me to the lab with you for a few tests?”
“A few quick tests,” Res6 repeats. “Shouldn’t take long. I just need to confirm a few things.”
Electra groans, rolling over into the sanctuary of the charcoal-colored blankets cocooning her. “Go away!”
A few days have passed, or maybe a week, since she woke up in this hellscape called the future. She has only enough energy to wallow in misery and yell at the man whose bedroom she’s taken over as her own personal cave. A bedroom with a plush yet masculinewarmth that is in direct contrast with its owner, from the excessive pile of pillows to the artwork filling two of the four walls. The large square canvases depict hazy landscapes, the dark, muted colors and soft focus creating a deeply soothing effect. Actual paintings, she guesses, though she’s only emerged from her cocoon to eat and for quick jaunts to the bathroom.
The covers shift. Is he tugging on them? She buries her head in the pillow, gripping the blankets tighter. Her voice comes out muffled as she says, “I told you, I’m not leaving this room. Ever,” she adds for emphasis.
“Ever?” he asks, tugging more insistently.
Grumbling, she throws the blankets back, instantly inhaling something that smells like food. Her stomach emits a pained rumble. Res6 takes a step back, holding out a takeout container to her like he’s trying to tempt a hungry bear that might swipe at any moment.
“I brought you something to eat and a pick-me-UP nourishment packet,” he offers tentatively. His gaze sweeps over her hair, then down his rumpled shirt that she still wears. “Maybe a shower first?”
“Not so sexy now, am I?” she mutters under her breath, which earns her a wince.
He sighs, heading toward the door, but stops to throw a concerned glance over his shoulder. “Listen, this cannot continue. We’ve been going back and forth like this for a week now, and it isn’t normal.”
She shrugs, eyeing the container. “What’s the point?”
“The point of the shower? To get clean. Did you not have them during your time?” He frowns, head tilting as he studies her. When she only answers with a glare, he suggests, “I could decommission you. That is an alternative to consider.”
That has her sluggish pulse firing. She shoots up, swinging her legs off the bed. “No.” It’s all she can think to say, because since she’sentered her sloth/depression era, there’s no compelling reason to offer him for keeping her alive. “That would be murder?”
He chuckles. “What happened to the lively, clever woman from the day we activated you? I much prefer her to whatever this is.” He waves his free hand in her general direction, his nose wrinkling.
The words are on her tongue before she can stop them, even as the bed feels like it might swallow her whole. “So sorry to disappoint. That woman hadn’t realized that everyone she cares about is lost to time—that means dead, in case you haven’t been following—and that she’s trapped in some inescapable sci-fi plot completely alone. Actual people aren’t meant to live those plots!”
He blinks, extending the food again as if the depth of what she’s said is beyond his capacity for response.
She swings her legs off the bed. The concrete floor is cool against her feet, and the grounding sensation offers her a tremulous stability. His features pinch in a pained expression as she takes the meal from his outstretched hand. “Thanks,” she says.
He’s right. They’ve played out some semblance of this routine every day since she woke up in the future. He’s still frowning as he turns to leave, and suddenly there is a part of her that is overwhelmed with guilt. Instinctively, she grabs his arm to stop him. He flinches but turns back.
“Look, I know this isn’t what you planned either, right?” she asks, really hoping the answer is yes, because the first day is a bit of a blur now, and she’s pretty sure she was an accident.
He nods. “You were an experiment, but I assure you, I did not intend for you to be real.”
What a relief. “I appreciate your patience. This can’t be easy for you either, having a strange woman from the past in your home who is so depressed she can’t get out of bed. Who you’re suddenly obligated to. So what now?”
He lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I see that you’re struggling, but I am not adept at offering comfort.”
