I was in warmth and darkness, in a state of timelessness, safety... Numbness.
Then... Stinging sensation in my arm and... Light! It pierced my eyes as I was dragged out and placed on some surface.
I stared at the ceiling and illumination elements of icy white, amused by the experience of seeing.
Elements moved above me. Movement!
Movement stopped?
Voices!
"Alright, Model: Isabel, number I.D.: Fifty-six."
"Logged."
"Get with it."
"Eya..."
What followed overwhelmed me completely.
I was stabbed with sharp things, machine sensors were attached to my sticky skin, still carrying traces of the 'soup of life' that birthed me in a bio-medium pod.
More voices: Tired, irritated, or emotionless - saying things I didn't understand.
"Reaction time - OK"
"Body temperature - OK"
"Hormone levels, Z1, Z2, Z3 - OK"
"No tumors- Hold it! Hmmm... Seems benign - let's say OK. Would run a full test but freaks in the up want to release this line before the Life Day. Next!"
"Not negotiating with the terrorists, huh? Proper shitheads in the up. Ah, well..."
"Nerve conductivity - Baseline. OK. Chromosomes X, X... X? Ey, is XXX OK?"
"Not a failure, but... Then again, it's a freaking sex doll, nobody fucking cares... Next."
"OK..."
<...>
"OK."
"OK."
"OK."
<...>
"Fifty-six is a go? Fifty-seven is on the way."
"Eya, I'll take her to the cell. She's going to the fifty-fifth one, eya? Since fifty-five failed."
"Yo, HR doesn't want to she-her 'em n' shit - remember the time Yun-La called it a 'girl' and HR got alerted? Shit was fucked."
"Eya, eya... Second, did doc get her- Fine, 'its' libido suppressed? Don't wanna be SA'd before it gets properly conditioned..."
"Let me check. Ah, fuck, man... No, the freak fucking did not. 'Ject it yourself, I'm guess."
"NQ, sis... But like I'm sick of his cloneshit."
A person in a white coat who was holding me by the arm pulled me towards a cabinet, pulled out a syringe with bright orange liquid inside, and without any reservations stabbed me in the thigh.
Coolness flowed through my body and I got dizzy and tired.
I realized that before I was burning up.
I wanted... To do 'something' - something I did not know of...
That want faded away, not completely, but I could barely sense it.
I was taken through a maze of corridors and pushed into a shower that washed away all the bio-medium.
Then a white gown was put on me, which I appreciated because I started to shiver.
Sensations, too many sensations.
Overwhelmed. Cold. Hurting at a dozen spots in my body where needles and implements penetrated my flesh.
I was unwell...
It was my first encounter with misery. And not the last.
The glass door opened quietly and I was in my cell. A shower, toilet, table, plastic hammock, and a few other things, all colorless and tiny, in a cramped cell.
"Well, you probably won't have to stay here too long, eya? Quite a doll you are... Monicas were 'mwah' but Isabels... Eya... I prefer Isabels. Anyway..."
And I was left alone.
I tried the floor, the shower - but quickly realized that the hammock was the best place to rest.
I fell asleep almost immediately.
<...>
Time was... Passing. There was a sort of rhythm outside my cell.
The time of dark and the time of light. The time of calm and the time of people rushing past.
At some point, I came up with an idea to count it.
I bit holes into a shower curtain to keep track - a hole for each time of light. I found a word for it in my head: Day.
A person who would come every day to check up on me told me not to do it but I did it anyway.
o o o o
o o o
o o o o o o
I slept during the time of dark - night - and would wake up at the beginning of the day. Morning?
There was supposed to be a sun, but maybe it was cloudy? I wasn't sure what cloudy was, but I knew it was incompatible with the sun.
Mornings were the worst. I would wake up with my skin heating up like it was on fire.
My fingers would twitch and I would rub my face against the plastic-y material of the hammock.
My crotch... It would become slimy and I would have to wash myself - and hammock - later.
Sometimes I would touch myself but I would always get interrupted by a person bringing a syringe of the orange liquid.
It usually was the same person. I read his name card - Toya Adyun.
I called him To'.
I would beg To' as he was injecting me with a libido suppressant.
"Please... To', please. I... Please."
"PLEASE."
"TO'!"
"Please... I need... I need... Oh."
I didn't know what I was begging for, but To' seemed to pity me.
"C'mon, just a second and you'll feel all better..."
"To', you're lying! It won't feel better. Just cold, I don't like feeling cold."
"But you don't like feeling hot either, fifty-six..."
"MAKE ME FEEL GOOD THEN!!! MA-"
And as every morning I would become weak and... Extinguished.
My muscles would relax, but not in a pleasant way.
"There, you're eya again, eya?"
"No... But t-thanks..."
"Oh, fifty-six. If I could help you, I would. No... I can't give you what you want..."
"Shit, this one's a one fucked up job, fifty-six... BASIK is not enough though, don't want to live in the Poors."
"I don't know what that means, To'..."
"It's eya, just talking to myself, heh... Kind of freakish that a doll is the least pain to converse with in this cloneshit fac'."
"..."
"Gotta go, fifty-six, got three more dolls to 'ject in this shift. And HR hates it when we talk to yous... See you tomorrow."
"Bye-bye, To'..."
After this routine, I'd collapse on the hammock and spend most of the day there.
Food would be dispensed three times, same nutrient pellets every day. Of neutral taste, something that I wouldn't hate or love crunching on.
Sometimes I would throw them around and watch the cell cleaning system deal with it by opening little holes on the floor.
Sometimes I would touch my body, my breasts, my pussy, my neck, but after the injection, it was as dull as touching a shower curtain.
Sometimes I would cry.
Sometimes I would stimulate myself by biting my flesh.
To' scorned me for that and said if I kept doing it, there would be bad consequences, so I tried to not do it often.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Every three days another person would come - Na' for conditioner Asana T'
They would, well, condition me.
A helmet would be put on my head, with sticky bits that would attach themselves automatically inside my ears.
And I would start... Seeing sound.
Thousands of images and words would flash inside my mind, switching too fast for me to understand any of them.
I hated conditioning - it would always make me confused and ill.
But Na' said to not resist, so I didn't do it, except for one time - the next day To' apologized, told me to behave next time, injected me with double the dose, and... No.
Never again. It was like being dead while alive, with the entire reality becoming covered with sharp snow. No warmth, no softness...
Never again.
So I would let Na' put on the helmet, suffer through it, then retreat to the hammock and spend the rest of the day curled up, not touching food pellets until late at night, when sickness would pass.
Fortunately, after a while, I wasn't conditioned anymore. I guess it was 'complete'...
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
"To' PLEASE-E-E-E- Ough... Bleh."
"And done..."
"To'?"
"Yes? Make it quick. HR algo always listens..."
"I know, I know... But To'... This is not good. I don't want this. I want something different! I can't take it! To'... Why is this happening to me? Where am I?!"
I teared up.
To' sighed.
"Eya, fifty-six. Look, is fucked up. The whole Isabel line is tanking. The 'tivists say the cooperative has over-tuned Isabels. They say it's no-ethical, see?"
"I mean 'tivists hate this whole thing, not just the Isabel line - but they got riled up 'ight now."
"An' I don't know about clones, but dolls... Is not a good thing, I think."
"You dolls are real, y'know? Fifty-six, you're loving an' gentle. Fifty-four is joyful. Not even mad at 'jecting. Fifty-seven makes 'etty pictures out of pellet crumbs."
"You is... People. You should be treated like people... Or not made at all."
"And I don't give a lunar shit about what HR and the up says. Is bad how the cooperative does yas. I get it, eya."
I wiped my tears off. To' was always calming to listen to. I couldn't understand much of what he was saying, but it was nice, To' was nice.
"Listen, fifty-six... It's been a while but maybe soon someone will 'chase you. Y'know, order you? You'll have an owner... And you might be taken care of."
"If the owner is good, you will have a good life. An' I don't know what kind of cloneshithead would 'buse you, you are... Precious."
"Some people are 'solute lunar piss-for-genes, eya, but you might get lucky. Maybe a 'tivist buy you and give you to a shelter. Could be good, eya?"
I turned my head.
"Owner?"
"Eya..."
"And no more 'jecting. Real food. Real home. You'll probably see the sun."
I jumped off the hammock and hugged To'.
"Really?!"
"Really."
"To'... Why didn't you tell me..."
"Is bad for you. Some dolls wait for months to be bought. Dolls go psycho if they know about this..."
"But you been here for long, 'cause of the 'cotts. Is also bad... You are going psycho anyway, I think..."
"They might... They... They could cancel the Isabel line to cut 'keep costs."
"I 'ope you get 'chased soon."
I rubbed my head on To's chest, then looked up into his face.
"Cancel?"
He sighed.
"Fuck... Forget about it, fox-ears... Shit. I'm getting 'tached to ya. Is bad."
"I'm gonna go... Shitfuck. Lunar cloneshit! HR is gonna fry my ass in virgin oil and serve with grapes... Freaking fuck!"
I sat down.
"Owner..."
I said quietly.
It was different, this word, it gave me hope, gave me excitement about the... Another word came up. The future, my future.
Holes in the curtain, many, so many I couldn't count.
