Page 7 of CHOICE Lover
“What about those other two men that were in the room when I first woke up?” I ask.
He lets out another long-suffering sigh. “Don’t worry about them. Lextr is my lead scientist and Tommy, as you know, is my personal assistant. They each have signed a nondisclosure agreement. Knowledge of yournatureis limited to the three of us.”
“Excellent,” I say, but my terror has numbed me by this point. I don’t even know what to think. How is a person supposed to process all this information in—how long has it been? Two hours?
There are more questions. More things I need to know. My subconscious pushes me to ask. But right now, I have enough to digest. Res6 seems to hold some regard for others, demonstrated by his concern for his employees. I feel it’s safe to say I’m not in imminent danger.
Wait—hisemployees? My next question is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t think I can handle any more surprises right now.
I stand up, knowing exactly what I need. I can feel this wellspring of words I’m sharing with you, Dear Reader, searching for a way out. Searching for a page to tumble onto.
So I say, “I need a minute to process all of this. And a notebook or something if you have one.” If my thoughts don’t find an outlet, I’ll implode. I’ve always been this way. I’ve filled hundreds of journals throughout my life. He hands me a tablet, directs me to a program called Scrawl, then juststands there staring at me. I scan the room quickly. “Is there a bedroom I can use?” I wiggle the tablet at him. “I need a minute.In private.”
His eyes narrow, as if what I’m requesting makes no sense to him. Still, he directs me through a door to an adjoining room, then leaves me.
That brings us to the present. I now sit in a minimal but luxurious bedroom that I assume must be his. The massive bed draped with dark silken bedding and olive-gray walls lend an overall masculine and cave-like feel to the space. I have a tablet in hand and am writing with a sleek metal stylus. I’ve gotten it all out of my head and onto the page, so it no longer has to rattle around in my mind. A lightness settles over me. I still have questions, like what am I supposed to do now? But I’m alive and I’m fairly certain this isn’t a dream.
Feeling centered, I’m convinced I’m ready to tackle what’s next. Thanks in part to you, Dear Reader. I’m in the future, and it’s going to be okay.
Cautiously hopeful,
Electra
Electra glances up from the tablet, clutching her precious words to her chest as the door cracks open.
“Hello?” Gold eyes peek in at her. “Is everything okay?”
Something about Res6’s concerned frown sends all the cautious optimism Electra spent the last hour nurturing flying out the window. She’s in the future. What is she going to do now?
2 – An Actual Woman
Res6
Why is there a real human woman in his bedroom potentially having a mental breakdown? That’s right. Because after a brief argument with Lextr about the ethics of recycling her, he decided to bring her to his unit. His reasoning: keeping her in his lab is out of the question. His staff would quickly realize that his latest experiment illegally brought back a woman from the past. The rumors about GROW’s mishaps that Tommy found on BLACKOUT are already making the rounds in the scientific community—evidently, he isn’t the only one who heard a rumor and went searching. Soon NHOS will catch one of these mishaps. There will be headlines. Public trust regarding the safety of his product will be questioned. He must secure CHOICElover’s public image—his life’s work, his passion, and his brother’s legacy. To do that, no one can know about the woman in the bedroom.
Therefore, since it’s his company he’s protecting, she’s his responsibility. So he did what any normal person would do in such a situation. He brought her home, stuck her in the corner of his living room like a floor lamp, and waited for her to wake up.
If he really believed she might have retained her memories, he’d have activated her in the privacy of his unit to begin with. Disregard that. He wouldn’t have activated her at all. But doing it in his unit would have saved him and Tommy from the cramped ride in his private sealed air transport, or SAT. Plus the dozen strange looks as they carried her through the halls to the private elevator reserved for the penthouse units in his tower. Yet activating her in his unit wouldn’t have saved him from the horrendously uncomfortable conversation he just had and the painful cocktail of panic and dread he’s now experiencing. What is he going to do with her? It’s not like she can stay in his unit forever. He wipes the sweat rapidly collecting on his forehead.
Shit, shit, shit. Get it together, Res6. She’ll be out at any moment, and she can’t catch you crawling the walls like a caged animal. She’s already wary of you.
He should have made Tommy stay as a buffer.
I can’t imagine the type of greedy pervert that would invent a manupartner,she said. No, better Tommy didn’t stay and accidentally reveal that Res6 is in fact the greedy pervert in question.No wonder she’s hiding from you in your own bedroom.
The rays of sunshine from the particle panes, which illuminate the room in bright cheery light, aren’t helping his disposition. He thinks the command: Update particle pane. Play Drizzle. The sunny beach scene morphs into a custom rain aesthetic. Hidden speakers in the corner of each window mimic the soothing sound of fat raindrops pattering against the glass. He takes a seat at his desk, inhaling deeply, and allows the sceneto soothe him.
Just approach the situation logically. Methodically.His several mini-meltdowns were entirely unnecessary. The rain façade is coming down in sheets, beating against the particle panes—or it would if it were real. He thinks the command: Increase volume. A moment later, the melodic drumming surrounds him. Water sounds, particularly rainstorms, ease something inside him.
He glances at the door, contemplating the woman on the other side. She came from the year 2027. A time before acid rain and oceanic dead zones. A pang of envy strikes him in the gut. What would it be like to feel the sun warm your skin as a wave rushes over your feet? The simulation chambers are great, but they can’t come close to the real thing.
During her time, they probably had other things that only exist as replicas now. Her presence in his life might give him an opportunity to hear a firsthand account of those things—but his curiosity will have to remain unsatiated for the time being. Forever, because he has no intention of discussing her experiences or anything else remotely personal with her. Not who she was, not what she likes or dislikes. Nothing that might build a connection. Getting to know her feels like a bad idea. Dangerous. Look what happened to Jerme because of 3Zeez. He should get a manupartner as insulation, but the woman thinks they’re horrific, so a manupartner would only add to his problems.
He paces past the closed door, shooting it a glare as if it caused the offense. Wait—when did he stand back up? No matter. Trying to sit still is a fruitless endeavor. His priority is figuring out what to do with her while simultaneously keeping her identity a secret.
That feels only slightly monumental. Fuck me.
The trials that led to her existence seemed reasonable at the time. Prudent even. Clearly, he needs to reframe it as a mistake. A colossal mistake that is his responsibility.
