Sufa stepped over to a cabinet that lined the wall to the right. She gestured down its length. “Inside here you have media consoles, extra clothing, reading material in your language, a large refrigerator with a selection of refreshments, personal toilet articles that you’ll recognize, and just about anything else you might need.”
“How do I open it?” Suzanne asked.
“Just use a voice command,” Sufa said simply. She pointed at one of two doors on the wall opposite the cabinetry. “Personal facilities are through there.”
Suzanne walked over to stand next to Sufa and faced the cabinet. “What exactly do I say?”
“Whatever it is you’re looking for,” Sufa explained. “Followed by an exclamatory word like ‘please’ or ‘now’.”
“Food, please!” Suzanne said self-consciously.
No sooner had she uttered the words when one of the cabinet doors opened to reveal a sizable refrigerator well stocked with containers of liquid refreshment and solid food of varying consistency and color.
Sufa bent over and glanced inside. She shuffled through some of the contents. “I might have known,” she said, standing back up. “I’m afraid you have just the standard selection, even though I requested some specialty items. But it doesn’t matter. A worker clone will get you anything you might desire.”
“What do you mean, ‘worker clone’?” Suzanne asked. The term sounded ominous.
“Worker clones are the workers,” Sufa said. “They do all the manual work in Interterra.”
“Have I seen a worker clone?” Suzanne asked.
“Not yet,” Sufa said. “They prefer not to be seen until they are called. They favor their own company and their own facilities.”
Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but it was not in the way Sufa surmised. Suzanne nodded because she knew that in most situations of bigotry, the dominant group always attributed attitudes to the oppressed which made the oppressors feel better about the oppression.
“Are these worker clones true clones?” Suzanne asked.
“Absolutely,” Sufa said. “They’ve been cloned for ages. Their primary origin was from primitive hominids, something akin to what you people call Neanderthals.”
“What do you mean, we people?” Suzanne said. “What makes us different from you besides the fact that you are all so gorgeous?”
“Please…” Sufa begged.
“I know, I know,” Suzanne repeated with frustration. “I’m not supposed to ask any questions, but your answers to even simple questions always demand some explanation.”
Sufa laughed. “It’s confusing you, I’m sure,” she said. “But we’re just asking you to be patient. As we’ve intimated, we’ve learned from experience that it is best to go slowly with the introduction to our world.”
“Which means you have had visitors like us in the past,” Suzanne said.
“For sure,” Suzanne said. “We’ve had many over the last ten thousand years or so.”
Suzanne’s mouth slowly dropped open. “Did you say ten thousand years?”
“I did,” Sufa said. “Prior to that we had no interest in your culture.”
“Are you suggesting-”
“Please,” Sufa interrupted. She took a deep breath. “No more questions unless they are about your accommodations. I have to insist.”
“All right,” Suzanne said. “Let’s get back to the worker clones. How do I call one?”
“A voice command,” Sufa said. “It’s the same for most everything in Interterra.”
“I just say ‘worker clone’?” Suzanne asked.
“ ‘Worker clone’ or just ‘worker,’ ” Sufa said. “Then, of course, it has to be followed by an exclamatory word that you feel comfortable with. But the phrase has to be said as a true exclamation.”
“I could do it right now?” Suzanne asked.
“Of course,” Sufa said.
“Worker, please,” Suzanne said. She maintained eye contact with Sufa. Nothing happened.
“That wasn’t enough of an exclamation,” Sufa explained. “Try it again.”
“Worker, please!” Suzanne cried.
“Much better,” Sufa said. “But it doesn’t have to be so loud. It’s not the volume that counts. It’s the intended meaning. Humanoids have to know without equivocation that you want them to appear. Their default mode is not to come, so as to be less bothersome.”
“Did you mean to use the term humanoid?” Suzanne asked.
“Of course,” Sufa said. “Worker clones look very humanlike although they are a fusion of android elements, engineered biomechanical parts, and hominid sections. They are half-machine, half-living organisms who conveniently take care of themselves and even reproduce.”
Suzanne stared at Sufa with an expression that was a combination of dismay and disbelief. Sufa interpreted it as fear.
“Now, don’t worry,” Sufa said. “They are very easy to deal with and are inordinately helpful. In fact, they are truly wonderful creatures as you will undoubtedly discover. Their only minor drawback is that, like their particular hominid forebears, they are unable to speak-but they will understand you perfectly.”
Suzanne continued to stare. Before she could ask another question, one of the doors opposite the cabinets opened and in walked a statuesque woman. Suzanne realized she’d been expecting a grotesque automaton, but the woman before her was hauntingly beautiful with classical features and blond hair, alabaster skin, and dark, penetrating eyes. She was wearing black satin coveralls with long sleeves.
“Here is a fine example of a female worker clone,” Sufa said. “You’ll notice she is wearing a hoop earring. They all wear them for some reason I’ve never understood, although I believe it has something to do with pride or lineage. You’ll also notice that she is rather comely, as are the male versions. But most importantly, you’ll find her amenable to your wishes. Whatever you want, just tell her and she will try to do it, short of injuring herself.”
Suzanne stared into the woman’s eyes; they were like dark pools. Her facial features were as sculptured and attractive as Sufa’s yet they bore no expression.
“Does she have a name?” Suzanne questioned.
“Heavens no,” Sufa said with a chuckle. “That certainly would complicate things. We wouldn’t want to personalize our relationship with workers. That’s part of the reason they have never been engineered to speak.”
“But she will do what I ask?”
“Absolutely,” Sufa said. “Anything at all. She can pick up your clothes, wash them, draw your bath, restock your refrigerator, give you a massage, even change the temperature of the water in your pool. Whatever you want or need.”
“At the moment I think it would be best if she left,” Suzanne said. She shuddered imperceptibly. The idea of someone being half alive and half machine was disquieting.
“Go, please!” Sufa said. The woman turned and left as quietly as she’d appeared. Sufa looked back at Suzanne. “Of course, next time you call for a worker clone it will most likely be a different one. Whoever is available comes.”
Suzanne nodded as if she understood, but she didn’t. “Where do they come from?”
“Underground,” Sufa said.
“Like in caves?” Suzanne asked.
“I suppose,” Sufa said vaguely. “I’ve never been down there nor do I know anyone else who has. But, enough about worker clones! We have to get you over to the dining hall for your meal. Would you like to swim or bathe? It’s entirely up to you, but there isn’t an overabundance of time.”
Suzanne swallowed. Her throat was dry. Given everything she’d been presented with, she found it difficult to make even a simple decision. She looked over at the pool. Its color, now more aquamarine than azure, was as inviting as its gently flickering surface.
“Maybe a swim would be a good idea,” Suzanne said.
“Excellent,” Sufa answered. “There are fresh clothes in the cabinet. And shoes, too, I might add.”