Special Delivery

A short time later, Vi clomped through Rae’s house as silently as she could, carrying Rae over her shoulder. She was glad that her feet were soled with the same rubber as her tires or things would be really loud. As it was, the whirring of her hydraulics in the silent house sounded like a roar in her audio receptors.

At last she opened the door to Rae’s bedroom…and there she was, asleep in Rae’s bed. Violet, the wetware version. It was funny—until just now, it hadn’t been entirely real to her. But looking at herself sleeping in the bed, there was no longer any doubt.

She reached out a metal hand to touch the sleeping girl’s shoulder—then stopped. Another programming directive: she was not to reveal herself to her “original” self. Well duh. I’d be just as pissed to find I’d been copied into a robot as I was to find I was the copy.

Growling to herself, Vi dropped Rae into an easy chair—none too gently—and left the room, tromping back to the garage and her maintenance station. This is really annoying.

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