NOVEMBER 24th, ??? PM.
"Your body lies in peaceful bliss" Beatrice sprawled her body across the only clear spot on the dirty floor large enough to accommodate her. Towers of research papers towered over her on all sides, and wires and cords pushed uncomfortably on her back, "your body somethings, s-something-ist."
*bzzzzz* *click* *zzzzz**click* *zzzzz*
A Clicking bridge between her hands, partially eclipsing the fluorescent buzzing blue light, ends pinched between her two pointers and her two thumbs,
*zzzzz* *click* *zzzzzz*
Is her lucky clickly blue kitty charm hair-clip.
"Your body, somethings, something-ist…" Beatrice often likes to write poetry in her meantime.
*zzzzz* *click* *zzzzzz*
She dragged her back down to escape the hard cords pressed up against her spine, "your body turns to something mist… Your body turns to achy back…"
*zzzzz* *click* *zzzzzz*
"No that's no good…" She crawled her body down further, "Sigh, damn friggin cords…"
She squirmed and trashed around for a second before falling sideways to her right shoulder.
*click*
She slowly slid her open lucky blue cat hair-clip back in her hair.
"Hairy?… nah, no way…"
*click*
A fly slowly circles around the surface of a cup of cold, probably bitter, "milk tea," as she calls it. Around, and around, fairly fast when compared to a majority of dead flies, especially since the tea hasn't been touched in a while, and around again.
I assume my usage of the word 'it' makes it difficult to differentiate which 'it' I'm referring to.
Flies don't have names, unfortunately, and I'm not exactly a fly expert so I have no means to tell their sex…
"I think I'll name you…"
"Your body turned to fairy mist?"
"Nate, after me. You're big so you must be a boy."
"Actually," a quiet nervous voice mere inches away sharply resonated in my ear, "the big ones are girls."
Marzy The Mad Scientist typed silently, in the corner of the room, nearly invisible. Marzy The Mad Scientist floated girlishly near my shoulder and motioned her flicking tongue to the inside of my ear. Marzy The Mad Scientist is baking a cherry pie in the kitchenette. Marzy The Mad Scientist is taking yet another shower. Marzy The Mad Scientist is floating naked in a glass chamber in the middle of the room, she's in five places at once.
Blue, viscous liquid, marginally thicker than water, traps her frail aging caucus and pushes it to curl in on itself like a dead beetle. Her light carcass slowly rises up, and then slowly falls down she 'breathes' through the giant, neck sized plastic tube funneled through the giant, airtight hole where her face should be.
Every day, for breakfast lunch and dinner, an automated system sends a chunky slop of grey nutrients through the clear plastic tube, down her gaping face.
Her head is shaved completely bald, and her skin sticks to her bones. The only parts of her left unscathed by her scientific testing is her brain, not including her 'supercharged gooch' and 'ta-tas,' as she calls them.
Two cold, wet worms crawled around my ear cartilage.
"You still can't touch her… how about… happy mist?"
She can still feel and hear and see out of her real body, she needs to breathe and eat, too. Sometimes she gets itchy, so I have to scratch one of her clones. Any sensation, weather pain or pleasure one of her 'girls' experiences, is sent straight to her brain remotely, which makes it all the more disturbing when they serve me 'milk tea.'
I turned to the silver haired mad scientist almost leaning on my shoulder.
"When will this pass again?"
She's lab grown, so she technically is a middle aged woman, she has her own personality and memories, it's just she happens to also have her 'mother's' memories too, as they call her.
The main one, whom I shall now refer to as 'baldy,' has total access to all of the clone's memories and emotions; she can communicate with them telepathically and she can speak directly for them, but she cannot force them do anything, and they can easily die just like any other human. She says using real people is a worthy trade off because if she were to use traditional robots, she wouldn't be able to touch and feel, and she's a total pervert wierdo who loves to touch and feel.
"Oh, well, I guess…" She bashfully turned her beat red head to the side, "um, well I don't really know… These government folks always," she tucked her hands between her legs and squirmed as she tried to force her wormy lips to move, "they're alw-ays a little c- c- cautious…" Baldy twitched a little in excitement.
Across my wet vision reflected a group of red pixels slowly inching down 43rd near the corner of Conor's street.
Slowly, slowly, slowly, moving.
So much waiting…
Too much waiting…
"Your body turns to… ARRGH! SHIT! This is so fucking annoying! But I can't get this stupid poem out of my head!" Beatrice slowly lifted her sore back up, and looked up to me, "don't you have any ideas Kate? Seriously I'm super stuck."
I melted back into the chair, my tonguey shadow fell back with me, "your body lies in peaceful bliss, your body turns to…" I tapped my pointer finger to my skull for a few seconds, "how about... bloody?"
"...Bloody?"
"Correct, a bloody mist." I settled back up and started my head towards her, "If you don't like it than you don't have to use…"
Her tiny blue pupils stared deep-set into mine, but they reflected an image far past, far past the computer screen behind me. Her shallow breath quieted the volume of the rest of the world. Her heart beat fast and bled into mine and suddenly mine did too. Her ghostly white skin turned my cheeks cold, I knew she had a phobia but...
"..."
"Y- You don't have to use it… It just felt right…" I couldn't take my eyes off hers.
"..." She forced her blue lips together and forced in a deep swallow, "you… do you…"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that" My feet were trapped in her wet eyes, "um.. How about, shiny?"
"... Shiny…" she fell back on to the floor, "your body turns to shiny mist… Nah, that sucks. Bloody's better I think."
"Okay… then why make all that fuss? What did you mean?"
*click*
She shakily pulled her hairclip out of her long black hair. An almost invisible Marzy types silently in the corner.
"Well… you know, I just… It's just sort of a gross image,"
*click* *click* *click*
"And I've got a good imagination, you know…"
"... You're," Lady Beatrice is far too cute and easy to read for her own good, "lying, aren't you…"
"No, I was just imagining, you know, myself lying in a flowery field,"
*click click click*
"And then I suddenly, like, BOOMED into a red dust, gross, right?"
A brown haired Marzy slowed her typing and coldly spoke over her shoulder, "you can leave now, the lock-down is over. Please leave."
"Really?!" The two of us shot up at the same time.
"No," her sarcastic eyes stayed locked on Beatrice, "leave, but remember. Never ever talk about anything you did in here, ever. Do you understand me?"