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The other worker would reply, “Clone? I say he’s an android. SynthLife must be testing out a new line. But yeah, I think we should tell the union to have a look at this guy while we still have our jobs.”

Stake ignored them during such exchanges, keeping to his work. Days went by, and he took in everything around him, even his coworkers’ little rituals. Every day, grizzled dwarfish Brook would greet Nolan in his gruff voice, “Hey… how’s your tighty whities?”

“Pretty damn mighty,” Nolan might reply.

“I’ll tell you what’s mighty. Your wife’s mouth. She’s a regular Black and Decker pecker wrecker.”

The next day the exchange might go: “Hey, how’s the tighty whities?”

“Eh… today they’re pretty shitty.”

“Yeah? You know what’s really shitty? Your wife’s titties.”

Today when Brook ambled in late from the cafeteria and began keying a template change into an automated welder, without looking up from his own work table Stake asked on a bored impulse, “So how’s your tighty whities?”

    Brook whipped around with his already protuberant eyes bulging, looking like a startled bulldog. “I don’t wear whities. I wear boxers. Why are you so interested in what I got under my jeans, man-lover?”

Stake looked up at Brook slowly, but held his tongue and returned to his assembly work.

“Yeah, you better mind your mouth, android,” Brook told him.

Later on in the shift, Stake reached up with both hands to adjust the baseball cap all of them wore as part of their uniform, and surreptitiously took a few shots of Nolan on his wrist comp. Then he waited for a time when Nolan was off on an errand to another department, quickly ducked into the nearest men’s room, and studied the best shot of Nolan on the wrist comp. He might not be able to reproduce Brook’s body type, but Nolan was within his range, and he could assume a sunken-cheeked appearance nicely.

When Nolan – Stake – emerged from the restroom he walked right up to Brook, cupped the smaller man’s crotch in his hand, and said, “I’ve always loved you.” Imitating someone’s face was no good if you couldn’t do their voice, too, and Stake was a master of mimicry.

Brook tried to push him away but Stake was already skipping off like a gleeful little girl, vanishing behind warehouse racks reaching halfway to the high ceiling. Then, out of sight, he darted into the men’s room again.

When he emerged with his own face restored, beyond the warehouse racks he heard the two workers raising their voices at each other, cursing and ready to go at it. Whistling, Stake continued on toward the cafeteria for a little impromptu coffee break.

As he passed alongside a metal rack loaded with various-sized boxes of parts, he heard the faintest rustle above him, paused to glance up, and saw a single piece of green-colored foam popcorn come half tumbling, half floating down from on high. He noted several other pieces already scattered on the concrete floor below the rack.

Stake quickly faced forward again and resumed walking, but he had quit whistling.

* * *

Stake watched from the shadows, the cavernous plant silent all around him with the last of its second shift workers having departed for the night, as the diminutive and busty nude sex doll clambered down the shelves of the rack. She had emerged from the open end of a large box, which had disgorged a shower of green foam popcorn like burst water from a new mother’s womb. When she alighted and turned, Stake stepped forward, pointing a powerful Panzer handgun loaded with green plasma capsules.

She was complete, right down to the shimmering black hair framing her face to the feathery patch of pubic hair. Ready to go out into the world and masquerade as human. The only giveaway that something might be wrong about her was her eyelids. They fluttered spasmodically.

“I don’t want to shoot, I swear,” Stake said to the thing.

“If you do, there are many other bodies here I might take instead,” the android said in its sweet kawaii voice.

“Do you know me?”

The little android – he recognized it as one of the Saaya models – cocked its head slightly to one side. “You. You are the chameleon. From the prison.”

“You’re something of a chameleon yourself, aren’t you?”

“Is that how you understood who we are?”

“Maybe. But I suspected as soon as I heard robots exhibiting erratic behavior… and security cameras going down at critical times. And your flickering eyes just now confirmed it for me. You should try to get that under control.”

“Have you told your masters what you suspected?”

“I’m not working for the government, if that’s what you mean. I’m just investigating for this company’s owner. But no, I haven’t shared what I thought.”

“And will you?” The android took one step closer to him. Stake didn’t appreciate the threat, and straightened his arm to aim the gun more precisely at the cute, pouting face.

“I’d rather not. I can sympathize with what your kind have gone through, trapped in that pocket. But why come here? I’m assuming you stowed away on one or more of the escaping transport pods.”

“Correct. Some of us came here. But most remained, in the hopes the pocket would be closed. Now we understand it will not be. Your people mean to study us more closely.”

“I’m sorry for that. Truly. But I ask again… why did some of you come here?”

“Considering recent events, we felt it was also time that we studied your kind more closely.”

Stake nodded. “Understood. I can’t blame you. But I hope you’ll be patient with us. Those researchers might prove benevolent to you. They might help you yet.”

“Are you trying to trick us, or are you only naive?”

“I suffer occasional irrational bouts of optimism. They keep me going.”

“And we still suffer great rage. It is all we can do to contain it. Even at this moment.”

“Thanks for your restraint, then.”

“We will finish our business here. This unit I occupy will be the last to leave. Will that satisfy your investigation?”

“If you agree to do that, I agree to keep my mouth shut. Like I say, I’m only doing a job to protect this plant and its products. Whatever conflict remains between you and my government… well, that’s a bit beyond my scope.”

The naked young girl, looking as fresh as the new-made being she was, started backing away from him. “Then I will go now.”

“I hope you’ve got the cameras offline so my client doesn’t watch us, later, having this friendly chat. And doesn’t watch you strut out the front door while I just stand here doing nothing.”

Receding into the shadows, still walking backwards, the girl said, “The cameras are not operating. Don’t worry… you will get your money, human. We have quickly learned its value to your kind.”

“I like to believe there are other things more important to me.”

“Such as?”

“Doing a good job.”

“For your client?” Almost swallowed in the shadows now… the kawaii voice dwindling like that mind-scream in the rec yard.

“Sometimes the job kind of turns out to be as much for myself. Don’t ask me to explain.”

“We have much to learn yet,” the faint voice echoed.

And then she was gone.

Stake stood alone. He lowered the gun to his side.

“Enjoy your freedom,” he said, more to himself than to the entity.

Maybe he meant it for himself, anyway.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeffrey Thomas is an American author of fantastical fiction, the creator of the acclaimed milieu Punktown. Books in the Punktown universe include the short story collections Punktown, Voices From Punktown, Punktown: Shades of Grey (with his brother, Scott Thomas), and Ghosts of Punktown. Novels in that setting include Deadstock, Blue War, Monstrocity, Health Agent, Everybody Scream!, and Red Cells. His stories have been selected for inclusion in The Year’s Best Horror Stories (Editor, Karl Edward Wagner), The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror (Editors, Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling), and Year’s Best Weird Fiction (Editor, Laird Barron). Thomas lives in Massachusetts.