Meals of Misery

Annetta just sat there on the bed covered up to her neck with sheets, eyes wide opened, mouth agape with disbelief of what just happened. Her heart rate was gradually returning to normal and the blond found herself to be able to breath again. “Wha…”, she started, but the man cut her off. With a snap of his fingers, the being that was supposed to be Renata dutifully walked to the woman and sat on the bed beside her. There’s no injury what so ever…

“They have their uses”, the man sighed while looking at his sneaker with which he just few minutes ago cracked “the pet’s” skull in… the same skull which mended itself with a click of a button… and now the creature was sitting next to Annetta, not paying slightest attention to her as if waiting for a command. “But, as I’ve said, you get quickly bored of the artificial”. The man coughed, leaning back in the armchair, crossing his legs and looking at the cowering blond on the bed.

“If you must know, Mrs. Mortinson, it is one of many. A few years ago, our science division got a breakthrough in creating synths – you can call them androids; they are good for many things: manual labor, saving lives, ending lives, warfare, infiltration, exfiltration, sex, torture… you name it. The possibilities are endless with them”.

Annetta chanced a look closer to the inhuman thing sitting besides her. She noticed that Renata’s... no, that wasn't Renata... just a thing made to look like her... eyes were cold and metallic. “They can even think as a normal human being and pretend that they have emotions, provided we inject them with a donor’s DNA sample. Hence, why they are useful when we want to use them for infiltration, let’s say, kidnap someone, get their DNA, inject the sample in to the synth – and voila, a perfect carbon copy”. Mr. A watched intrigued as Annetta looked over her own body for any marks on her. "You probably saw our little video, in which, dear Renata was entertaining the politicians with her body? I assure you, that wasn't a synth, that was a real deal. Oh, don't look so aghast, Mrs.", the man chuckled while watching Annetta's eyes for a moment. "Renata had a lot of training before getting to that point on her own free will so to speak, and while she was getting hot chocolate licked off of her naked body, this thing was masquerading as a political news talk show hostess. Genius, is it not?"

“Oh, I assure you, Mrs. Mortinson, you won’t find any marks on you. Not because we did not extract any sample from you, mind you”, the greying man chuckled to himself. “But, because the small dot, where the needle pricked you, healed quite nicely within a day”.

“A day?”, Annetta heard herself ask. “My family…”

“No, for all intents and purposes, no one knows… well… your so called friends from the executive board know, but they won’t be doing anything about that”, the man smiled at the blonde, enjoying seeing her shiver involuntary. “As I said, for all intents and purposes, you, my dear, are with your family right now; you are helping your husband Tomas get the kids ready for school and then you will be leaving for work”.

“I don’t believe you”, the blonde stammered.

 “No? Well…”, Mr. A stood up. Annetta warily followed his movements, steeling herself to pounce out of the bed and run through the door, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that the… synth… sitting next to her will be ordered to apprehend her, and it will do so quite easily, considering how the blonde could not budge an inch when a finger was pushing down her chest. “It’s a live broadcast through infiltration unit’s eyes”, he smiled handing over his phone to the chef.

Annetta took the phone with trembling hands. Swallowing a lump in her throat. Sure enough, it showed a first-person point of view video (whether that video was a live broadcast or not, she could not tell), in which her husband and kids joked and messed around at the kitchen table. The cooking show hostess gasped when she heard her own voice from the speakers telling her children how much she loved them and can’t wait to see them when they get back from school. The voice was full of warmth and love. Annetta felt how her eyes became glassy as tears threatened to spill, but she steeled herself. She wasn't going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

The timestamp at the corner of the video showed Tuesday, 06:30 AM. I’ve been missing since Monday… shit, shit, shit, shit… “If you do not believe me”, the man continued, taking away the phone and putting it back in his jean’s pocket. “I’m sure, that if you will agree to our terms after seeing for yourself what will be in store for you should you decide to disobey, you will meet your doppelgänger today on you merry way home”. What? I don’t understand, they will be letting me go? Wait… seeing for myself? Oh-oh, I don’t like the sound of that.

“Now, if you don’t mind following me and listening to what I have to say”, Mr. A said holding out his hand to her, as though hoping she would choose of her own accord to go with him. But Annetta just sat there, a million thoughts racing through her head. The man sighed, but not in disappointment, probably at the tediousness of this whole ordeal, which he has probably done a thousand times before with others.

Mr. A went to the door and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Annetta felt vice-like grip on her forearm and she found herself stumbling out of bed, being dragged by the synth who looked just like her colleague from the news station…