Chapter 34

"He's gone, right?" Renee licked her dry lips, heart pounding. She'd seen him leave the very door she stood before, yet her nerves still thought it could be a trick. "You're positive?"

'This is the fourth time you have repeated that question, dear. I do not lie, ' Matthias' typically impassive voice held a hint of irritation. 'Simon's owner - Henry Larson - is out. There is a 84.25% probability he will not return for at least two hours.'

"I know. I know." She took a deep breath, placing a hand on the weapon at her side. "Sorry."

'You know what to do, sister. Relax. Remain calm.'

Renee nodded, not sure if she could hear actual affection in the AI's voice, or if it was just her imagination. Or maybe he was just faking the emotion she'd expect to hear.

But what would be the purpose in faking feelings?

The door creaked open and Renee forgot all about Matthias.

As the door swung wide, she saw the blond hair first.

Simon.

But-

It's him. It's definitely him.

But he was two feet too short.

The same nose. The same eyes.

And ten years too young.

"G-good morning," said the boy. He even sounded like the one she knew. Sincere, on edge. "How can I help you?"

Renee stumbled one step back, mind numb.

"Lady?" The boy made as if to reach out to her, but froze before his hand passed the boundary of the doorway. "Are you alright? Can I help you?"

I'm not a lady, she thought automatically, something that finally pierced the fog of her disappointment. She closed her eyes, and pulled herself together. "I'm sorry, you just ... surprised me."

The boy nodded, as if it made perfect sense. "Can I help you?" he repeated, like a program caught in a loop.

And maybe he is, she realized. The little greeter for when Henry is out.

The girl straightened. "I'm here to see S- I mean, the synthetic that's for sale."

The younger Simon's gaze focused, and his posture seemed to relax a little. "My- my master isn't home right now, ma'am." He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"That's fine. I don't need to see him," said Renee, but the boy still didn't seem convinced. She added, "Henry said I could check him out while he was away."

Invoking the man's name had the desired effect. The kid beckoned her to follow him, and led her through the house.

"Your name is Simon?" asked the girl. She needed conversation- something to distract her from her thoughts.

"Yes, ma'am," said the kid.

What kind of man would replace his syn with an exact duplicate? she thought. What's the point?

"How long have you been with Henry?"

" ... I don't know," he replied. "A couple of months?" He added a belated 'ma'am' to the sentence, glancing at her nervously, but Renee wasn't paying attention anymore.

They'd reached the door.

"He's in there, ma'am," whispered her young helper, breaking the silence. The tension in his voice sent flickers of unease up her spine. "I'm- I'm not supposed to go inside."

"That's okay," replied Renee. The girl wanted to ask him what to expect, but then he might realize she wasn't what she said she was. "Wait here."

She twisted the knob, and was surprised to find it unlocked.

Then again, the other people in Henry's home were synthetics; he needed but a few words to keep them in - or out of - any place.

The instant the door opened, the reek of human waste hit her so hard it nearly gave her a headache. The smell alone would have made her hesitate, but the room was also pitch black. The darkness stirred her fear, too many bad memories hinged on blindness, and her legs felt as if they were made of stone.

"Master usually makes him come out," said a small voice beside her.

Renee flinched, then turned to the synthetic to her left, hoping he hadn't seen it. "What?"

"For the other people, like you. Master tells him to- to 'crawl out here and show off.' And then he makes him go back inside." The boy swallowed. "He doesn't like going back."

The girl shuddered, the scene all too easy to imagine. Simon undoubtedly begged not to return to his own 'dark room, ' just like she had. But he'd been trapped for much longer than her own moments of forced solitude.

She marched into the shadowed miasma, before her fear could overpower her empathy entirely.

"Simon?" she called, peering into the black. "Are you ... here?"

A form lurched out of a corner and sprawled, naked, at her feet.

The boy she had known was gone.

In the dim lighting, his fair skin appeared almost brown, his beautiful hair now matted and dangling from his scalp in clumps. All of the wiry muscle was gone, his skin hanging off of little more than bone and blood vessels. Scabs had formed across his shoulder-blades, his elbows, and probably in other places she couldn't see.

Her friend pushed up, in what she realized was an attempt to kneel properly, his emaciated arms trembling at the strain.

"Oh god," she whispered, past the lump in her throat. She dropped to her knees and reached out to help him; her fingers brushed his shoulder - and he recoiled, smacking her hand aside and falling outside of the light.

"Oh no, nononono," gasped the boy. His voice was unrecognizable, hoarse and shocked. "I'm sorry, mistress, I'm so s-sorry. I- I-" he crept closer. "I didn't mean to hit you. I'm sorry, I'm a good syn, I s-swear, mistress. I can- I'll do anything, anything you want."

"Simon-" she began.

"If you want to touch me," he interrupted, "I'll let you- I'll l-like it, you won't even have to tell me to." He scrambled to her feet once more, groveling on the floor, body taut. "I'm sorry I'm so dirty," he said, "P-please look at my scan, I can l-look better, mistress." He took a shuddering breath. "Or, if- if you're looking for a syn body guard, I- I can learn; I'm ... I'm usually quick, mistress."

"Hey-" she tried again, but he cut her off.

"Or pleasure!" he all but shouted, desperation making his words squeak. "Mistress, my master trained me well, I ... I have a high tolerance for p-pain," his voice broke on the word. "I could- could make any of your fantasies come t-true."