Chapter Text
Everything is dark.
She tries to open her eyes, but for some reason she can’t.
It looks like she forgot how to execute such a simple task, such a natural task.
She tries to move her fingers.
She starts with her right hand, she concentrates hard on doing so, but for some reason – again – she can’t. She attempts again, this time using her left hand; the outcome doesn’t change.
It looks like she forgot this too.
The only thing that apparently still works – that seems free – is her voice, which bounces non-stop in every corner of her mind.
For her it’s like an eternity has passed when the lights turn on, and with them her eyes do too.
Completely dazzled, for a moment she’s not able to distinguish anything placed in front of her. The location unveils its shapes bit by bit, revealing what looks like a store: a display cabinet, positioned at the center of the room, displays a dozen of iPads. They are all operative and each one of them is set to play various footages of everyday tasks. She wonders why and keeps studying her surroundings. At the opposite end of the room, on the left, there is a see-through door and, on the right, a big shop window, that would occupy the whole wall if it wasn’t for the door. The window allows her to see what’s going on outside: she catches sight of fortyish people standing in line, waiting probably for the time the store will open.
But why am I here?
She would like to say out loud, in hopes of anyone hearing her question so that she could have some answers.
But it’s useless, she can’t.
Instinctively she looks down. She’s standing on some sort of circular black platform – whose color goes completely in contrast with her white shoes – that is placed on another platform, but rectangular.
She turns left and right, but all she can see is two screens.
Turned off, both of them.
She is about to indulge herself in looking at her reflection, when she feels a tingling sensation invading her fingertips.
And she tries again, then. She slowly moves her right hand, and when she can, she lifts it in front of her face. Next thing she does is trying to stretch out her arm.
But she can’t. She wishes she didn’t even try when dread makes its way into her at the realization that it goes against an invisible surface. She tries to push it with both hands.
It’s useless.
She’s stuck.
« I would like to buy that one. »
« That’s a RS-626 model, miss Yae. It’s very efficient, but this one might be flawed. »
Miko smirks.
And it probably makes the sales assistant nervous.
« They returned it two times already, » he explains. « We can order another android of the same model. »
« Oh no, dear, this one will be perfect. »
Miko tries to be gentle, as she looks carefully at the now-turned-off android in the exhibiting booth. She decided to bring that one home with her the moment she saw it through the window while trying to get out of her stall.
She can’t let anyone else take it.