Chapter 32 #2
Electra chokes on the sip she just took. “An electronic lockpick?”
The priestess leans forward, collecting her tablet off the bar.
She turns the screen toward Electra to unlock it and taps the glass a dozen times.
“Yes, see this app I just downloaded for you?” Sister Xelna shows her the Special Ops app she’s using.
“There. I loaded some unicoin into your account. When you get your ID and Worldbank account, you can pay me back.”
“But I thought lending money was illegal,” Electra says.
“It is. That’s why I’m paying you for the service of fortune-telling. And when you pay me back, you can make a donation to The Sacred Order of Feline Transcendence.”
“Okay . . .” Does that mean the cat church is a front?
“So all you have to do is purchase one entry. Then, when you’re standing next to the door you want to open, you click Pick. It usually takes a few minutes for the program to hack the entry, but I’ve never had it fail.”
“Okay . . .” Electra repeats, eyeing the woman incredulously. Does she even want to know what locks Sister Xelna is picking?
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Everyone dabbles in a little illegality. You can bend the rules. Just don’t break them.”
On her way home, she gets a message that Res6 has to stay late to help fill in for Lextr while they search for his replacement.
She busies herself writing an outline for a modern alien story she’s been thinking about all day—inspired after a rousing round of sex the night before.
Her tablet containing the digital lockpick sits on the desk, vying for her attention.
For her part, her hand keeps twitching toward it, almost involuntarily.
Would it be wrong—what is she thinking? Of course it would be wrong.
But her legs don’t care about morals. She snatches the tablet and stomps over to the door.
No. Sit your ass back down. Janet would be so disappointed.
After a brief internal struggle, she turns around.
She is not going to break Res6’s trust. There is nothing ominous in the room.
She has no reason to open the door. He will share what’s behind the locked barrier when he’s ready. There. That’s settles it—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Her heart seizes. Slowly, she turns back to face the door. Oh God. She’s hallucinating now. Her denial has collapsed into some type of sick delusion, and she’s hearing things.
Her voice is sheepish as she asks, “Hello?” remembering that the rooms are practically soundproof. Please let me have imagined it.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
She isn’t sure how long she stands there frozen. Someone is in there, and they want out. Could it be another reincarnate like her? No, that’s insane.
Still, her hand trembles as she opens the Special Ops app.
Holding the tablet against the door, she presses the Pick button.
Her heart hammers as several seconds pass.
A dozen possibilities pass through her mind of what she’s about to discover.
A sinking feeling in her gut tells her that the worst option is probably the one that is true.
The lock clicks. There’s a moment in which nothing happens, then the handle turns.
Before her, a man stands in the now-open doorway.
Not a man. The man—Res6. Or at least a perfect likeness of him.
Okay, there has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.
Maybe it’s the body double he sends to his FRIENDS appointments.
“Hello. Are my protein packs here? I’m hungry.” The voice is so eerily similar to Res6’s that it makes a chill run down her spine. His flat gaze drops to her and animates. “What’s your name?”
“Electra,” she mutters.
His eyes widen before narrowing into an inspecting glare. “Oh, you’re the woman who has my brother so unmoored.” He makes air quotes around the word unmoored.
Res6 said she made him feel that way last night. But he also said the changes she’s brought into his life are a good thing. Time slows. “You’re Jerme?” she finally chokes out.
“Sometimes he calls me Jerme,” he says, smiling.
“Wait. Are you a manupartner?” she asks hopefully. Surely this is a simple misunderstanding. This isn’t Res6 trying to bring his dead brother back.
“Jerme” takes in a big breath before dramatically exhaling. “Yes, I’m only a manupartner. Sometimes I have to pretend like I’m Res6.”
“Oh, that’s a relief.”
Still, her eyes drift to the open door. He told her about the body double, so that isn’t what he’s hiding.
Before she can stop herself, she darts forward into the room, first noting the neat bed, then the comfortable-looking chair in the corner.
To her left is the bathroom. The door is open, and the small space is empty.
That means the door to her right is the closet.
Right as she’s about to fling it open, the manupartner places his large hand on the surface, holding it closed.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to see what’s in there.”
She turns, squaring her shoulders. “Move.”
The manupartner jumps back at her stern tone, and she wrenches the door open.
There’s a fully formed human that looks just like Res6 stuck to an electrode pad. Somehow, she knows exactly what she’s looking at and why Res6 kept it a secret.
The manupartner clears its throat. “He said this one failed, and he’d send Tommy to take care of it later.
I think he forgot about my fuel too. I can go three days without fuel.
I should consume something soon.” His grin is so wide, unlike Res6’s typical smirk.
It’s unsettling seeing it on his likeness.
Aside from Chryl, who’s partially real, this is her first interaction with a manupartner. It’s just as creepy as she expected.
She shakes her head in disbelief, pointing to the unit in the closet. “This is supposed to be the real Jerme, isn’t it?”
The manupartner frowns. “I am not authorized to talk about that.”
It’s confirmation enough for her. Her heart feels like it’s squeezing and shattering all at once.
She covers her mouth, but she can’t hold back a sob as the pain in her chest bubbles over.
He tried to bring Jerme back? No . . . He’s actively trying to bring him back.
That’s what his experiments are about. That’s all she’s been to him.
A research pathway to his brother. Not a random accident like he claimed, or the real human woman that he’s falling for.
Certainly not fate. As soon as he gets Jerme back, because obviously it’s possible, he’ll probably lose interest in her, then all she’ll have is her broken heart.
The manupartner steps forward, taking her by the elbow. “You should sit down. You don’t look good.”
He guides her to the couch, pressing her shoulder until she sits. Then he picks up the remote and turns the particle pane to a sunny beach scene. “Feel better?”
She glances from the particle panes to him. “How do you know how to do that if you’ve never been out of that room?”
He shrugs. “My programming. I can do almost everything except be real.” His tone is so beleaguered that Electra can’t help but momentarily feel pity for him.
She shakes her head as if she can shake away the horrible revelation that Res6, the man she’s inconveniently developing feelings for, has a god complex and is trying to resurrect his dead twin.
He lied. He’s been lying. Oh God, it wasn’t their Saturday Sirens outfits in the closet glitching.
It was this thing. Or another earlier experiment.
But the repairman came—Trent seemed clueless at first. Has everything been a lie?
The hovering manupartner looks so distressed that she feels compelled to say, “Don’t worry. It’s not your fault.”
It sits down next to her, and she does her best to ignore its presence so she can think. This is the other shoe dropping. The horrible thing she was waiting for that will steal her happiness away.
“If you need to talk, you can talk to me. He does that sometimes.”
Tears prick her eyes. Res6 has been having late-night chats with a manupartner he calls Jerme? It’s so insane, she isn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. No wonder her column is becoming so popular. Humanity has lost track of what it means to be human.
She gets up, giving in to the call of her bed with its massive pile of blankets she can hide beneath.
Last night, the same blankets cocooned her and Res6 as they drifted to sleep tangled in each other’s arms. She forces one foot in front of the other, doing her best to block out the memory.
Still, dread nearly paralyzes her. You can collapse into a heap of spiraling doom once you get to the bed.
Footsteps sound behind her. Is the Jerme clone following her? “Electra, do you need to talk? You never answered. What about my protein packs?”
She groans and forces herself to fish out a prepared meal from the refrigerator for the manupartner so the thing doesn’t starve.
As he sits on the couch content with his “fuel,” she retreats to the bedroom and collapses face-first onto the bed.
Res6’s woodsy citrus scent envelopes her. “I’m in hell.”