Today, he was taking his new companion shopping. Her z-tag indicated she was Mrs. Debra Jones. Pale, wrinkled skin looked poised to drip off her bones. She clung to his arm and shuffled up to the mirror inside Maezyah's Boutique. He made sure she was stable before standing back so the animation drones could whirr around her without his arm in the way. A composite image appeared on the screen and she waved her gnarled hands over the motion controls, choosing outfits, colors and fabric. MRTN yawned, but this was better than changing beds or taking orders from the z-chef.

            Maezyah looked up from the printer behind the counter where a red lacy bra was inching out of the extruder. "You doing okay?"

"Yes, Hon. I'm doing just fine."

"Let me know if you want fabric samples printed." She looked over Mrs. Jones' helmet of wispy white hair and winked a purple eye at MRTN.  He liked her eyes. Khulan too, chose purple eyes. Iris Irises, she had called them.

Mrs. Jones had dressed her image in black pants and a nanoLED blouse covered with fireworks that burst like weeping willows then broadened into red roses. Her image smiled and strolled down a red carpet. MRTN messaged the shop's AI.

MRTN>MAZE: she's old, put her in a garden

The scene morphed into a garden path surrounded by lilacs and daffodils and MAZE flooded the room with floral odor.

Khulan had stood in front of this screen too, when she designed and ordered her own clothes. MAZE had figured out Khulan liked to buy the clothes modeled to her in party scenes, the kinds of places where strangers spilled wine on his clothes and shouted over the roar of music. It was MRTN's personal hell, but he had accompanied her anyway.

            "What do you think, Martin? Should I have it printed?" Her voice was shaky, but carried.

Ear sensitivity: Dial back from 20 to 10

            "It looks nice." he said.

Query: 1 Processor: search datastream: compliments for people >100 years old trying on clothes

            Before he got any hits, Mrs. Jones down-thumbed and the image disappeared.

            "Come on Martin, I can see you aren't ‘in' to fashion." She took his arm and they drifted out the door and down the sidewalk.

            The gold chain holding her glasses around her stringy neck jingled. Very few people wore glasses. If their eyes failed, their biogenysists printed and installed new ones. Debbie must have been too old to undergo a simple procedure like that.

            "How old are you, Mrs. Jones?"

            "Please Martin, it's Debbie, and don't ask a lady her age-"

Proper Name Filter: Debbie=Mrs. Debra Jones/Debbie preferred/Hard drive backup

Politeness Protocol: standard apology

            Debbie cut off his standard apology with "but I ain't a lady. I'm 149."

Occupational Training Module 54.003.25: The average treated born-human lives 140 years. After approximately 130 years, treatments stop working.

            Born in 1956. Good. Her age would give them something to talk about.

Query: SmallTalk App: search datastream: television, movies, and music of the nineteen fifties

            Debbie beat his small talk generator.

            "Martin, where are you from?"

            His body tensed.

Personal History Program: standard bio

            The story about being born in Pre-flood New York City his programmer had written streamed out of his mouth. 

            "Oh, you're just a baby." Debbie stopped and watched six children jumping rope in the school yard while six others zoomed around on hover trikes.

DeepLocal Random Fact: In 2079, seven blocks of this neighborhood were emptied through eminent domain to make room for the omni-school. The highspeed underground brings children here from a 100 square mile radius.

MRTN>DeepLocal: Snooze for 01:00 hours

            He needed the random facts to stop while his human brain tried to figure out Debbie's comment. His donor template was a 37-year-old male, not a baby.

            Debbie turned to him. "I have three children and now I'm a great-grandelder. Do you have children?"

            "No, Debbie. I don't have-" don't say ‘a family,'  "I don't have children, but I had a girlfriend."

            "Had? Aww, I'm sorry, did you break up?

Taboo Filter: Death

             "Yes."

            "You'll find someone else. Then will you have children someday? We could use more." She nodded toward the playground. Two aides called the children back to class.

            "Maybe."

            "You should. You won't regret it."

            How does she know what I will or won't regret?

Cmmd: SmallTalk App; sort

            2 processor sifted his downloaded reservoir of 1950s data for a sustainable conversation topic. His last companion, Juan, had opened up when asked about Metallica.  Wait. How old are born-humans when they start to recall life events?

            MRTN had been printed to his human clone specifications, programmed for five years, then assigned employment.

Cmmd: SmallTalk App: delete data pool ninteenfifties

Query: SmallTalk App: search datastream: television, movies, and music of the nineteen seventies

             As 1970s data poured into 2 processor, Debbie took his arm and steered him over the lawn toward the next shops.

 LineasFilter: Quercus alba, AKA American White Oak

            Light knifed between the branches and swirled on the sidewalk. The tips of the canopy blazed gold. The sun had always imparted a red halo to Khulan's black hair.

            MRTN was about to mention the white oak when Debbie paused at the door of the toy printer. "Oh, I don't remember whose birthday is coming up. I'll have to come back tomorrow." She led him back toward the sidewalk. "Where did you work before this? I can tell you haven't been doing it very long."

            "I was a drone technician." It wasn't entirely a lie; his computing hardware was recycled from a military drone.

            "Are you glad the wars are over?"

Amiability Engine: Smile and say yes

            "Yes."

 Debbie didn't smile back. Her face looked- worried?

            "Martin, you worked with the drones, what do you think about the ones put into clones?"

            MRTN paused for .037 seconds. Debbie was his third companion. His trainer said if he lost three companions he'd be re-evaluated. Employers couldn't reveal his status, but residents didn't need to provide a reason to request another companion.

Mssg: Thank you for upgrading to E-Etiquette Supreme

Mssg: Welcome to Taboo Blocker Premium

Mssg: Thanks for unlocking Deep Local Platinum

Mssg: Welcome to Human Mind Prime

Mssg: Thank you for turning SmallTalk into BigTalk

The upgrades would drain his paycheck, but would pay off in the long run if they helped him seem less clone, and more born-human. In the meantime, he went with his own answer.

"The drones were data gatherers. They made decisions about where the bombers went based on algorithms and satellite data. The processors were wiped, and when installed in human clones, the brains make decisions about input."

            After 1.4 seconds she said, "Martin, do you know about Frankenstein? It's like that."

Query: 6 Processor, search datastream: summaries of Frankenstein

He streamed highlights of five different movies and the book. The plots were all different, but he ventured, "Yes Debbie, what about it?"

            "Dr. Frankenstein brought a dead body back to life, but it was a new person. The monster developed feelings and then murdered him."

            She followed the book, but got a lot wrong. "His creature's body came with feelings. The so-called monster destroyed Frankenstein because he abandoned him."

LineasFilter: Cornus florida AKA Flowering Dogwood.

Environmental Warning;optical danger/pulmonary danger: Mechanical bee ahead

MRTN geolocated the danger and steered Debbie 3.7 inches to the right as the pollen-laden mech whizzed past her head. She continued to frown.

            "Have you ever seen 2001: Space Odyssey?"

Query: 1 Processor, search datastream: summaries of 2001: Space Odyssey

            He knew the plot in .42 seconds "Yes, Debbie. What about it?"

            "The AI murdered everyone. Don't you think that's possible?"

            Query: 5 Processor: search, world crime statistics, murder, AI hybrid clones

            No murders came up in the .03 seconds it took before he started his reply to Debbie. "I believe AI hybrid clones are less likely to murder than average born-humans."

            "Why do you say that?"

            "If they break any law, they'll be un-installed, so they're on their best behavior."  Still no hits for AI hybrid clones charged with murder.

            "Yes, and if they pass the 'Right to Exist Bill,' they won't fear being un-installed. Ahh Martin, I'm not a technist, my daddy didn't raise me that way, but they don't have our culture and if the activists have their way, they won't be stased anymore if they aren't needed."

            MRTN was silent. He didn't understand born-human culture, but he didn't want to be un-installed or stased. I'll never see Khulan again. Debbie let go of his arm and faced him. "What do you think, Martin?

            A drop of sweat raced down his temple. He learned more from Khulan than his programmer or apps. LogicCheck came up with seven different answers, but he turned it off and went with his own. "Printed hybrid clones learn culture, if they are allowed to spend time with borns." 

            "Well, don't you think it's unfair they don't die since their consciousnesses can be uploaded over and over?"

            MRTN's consciousness exploded with a memory. Khulan. Crushed hovercycle under the bus. Blood on his hands, clotted in her hair, soaking his shirt as he held her. "Yes, it's unfair," he pushed the words through his constricted throat.

            "Martin, you're holding something back. I'd really like to know what you think."

            Why can't I shut my brain down and have the processors do the work? MRTN took a deep breath. "Debbie, I need to tell you two things. One: my girlfriend died. Two: I'm a hybrid clone."

            Debbie gasped and stepped back. Her foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk and she toppled. MRTN caught her shoulders and set her upright. He studied her and only let go once she found her balance. Her shoulders and head slumped forward. She sighed. When he glanced at her blue-grey eyes she looked away. I wish there was an app that could read born-human body language with any accuracy.

"Martin, let's go home."

            Debbie led him back to Elysian Fields, taking the shortcut across the graveyard. Five acres of tombstones cast long shadows. Each one represented a born-human life. Printing hybrid clones was expensive, but should he really be contracted to the employment agency for the next 87 years and 56 days? Provided he didn't get stased or un-installed first.

            He and Debbie didn't say anything for 32 minutes and 4 seconds before they were in the gardens in front of the enhanced living home.

LineasFilter: Rosa burpeeii AKA Year-round Roses

Debbie stopped and faced him. "Martin, my husband died last year. It was three months shy of our 125^th anniversary."

Taboo Blocker Premium: Say, "I'm sorry for your loss." Change subject

            Curiosity bubbled in his human brain. What is marriage like?

Cmmd: Disable Taboo Blocker Premium

            "Was your marriage happy?"

            "Of course." She paused. "Well, yes and no. I put everyone's needs before my own and around anniversary sixty, I was depressed. We worked hard for the treatments, so we were still biologically young. Bob noticed. I had always wanted to be a teacher, so he suggested I go back to school. Bob gave me two decades to pursue my career and whatever I wanted. He tagged along. Then I retired and gave him ten years of support. He loved to travel. I preferred to settle down for a while, so we kept switching decades, until I lost him. That was our secret."

            "Did you ever think about leaving?"

            Debbie laughed so hard she rocked back on her slim legs. "A few times, but there's nothing like having a spouse, or someone, dedicated to you- it doesn't matter if it's the same person, or more than one. Or more than one at a time, the way things are now."

            He was glad Debbie was happy, the wrinkles that deepened when she smiled made a fascinating map across her face, but he felt as if the lifter had dumped four sacks of dirty laundry in front of him. My body makes me sad and my software makes people scared of me.

            "Did she qualify for stasis? Your girlfriend?"

            He just nodded. If he opened his mouth a sob might escape.

            "Has restoration started?"

            MRTN took a deep breath. "She doesn't have many living ancestors. Her mom's in the colonies. It'll take a long time for us to save the money."

            "Oh, I see."

            Debbie turned toward Elysian Field's front door and MRTN went to her side. He hesitated, but it was better to know. "Debbie, are you going to ask for another companion?"

She looked at the path under their feet. No eye contact. He'd learned that wasn't good. "Well Martin, I'll have to think about it."

            The lobby door sighed open. Debbie's CareBot unfolded into a hoverchair as he lifted it from the charging station. He helped her sit and was about to enter the staff door when Debbie called out, "Martin, I would like you to be my companion. Okay?"

            MRTN huffed out a breath he didn't know his body was holding. "Yes, Debbie. Thank you. I can't wait to talk about your travel, and your kids."

            "I can't wait to talk about your life, Martin."

            On the way back to his dorm, the motion sensitive streetlights flashed on ahead of him and off in his wake. When he ran past the open-face landfill mine, 5 processor turned off his sense of smell. He messaged the AI at Universal Flora and ordered the usual for Khulan's stasis cubicle; Irises and Chrysanthemums. They would grow in the four days between now and his day off. He could even take a flower to Mrs. Jones- Debbie.