his loathsome hand had touched hers.
Doctor Monsa said, “Despite the preferences of some, I like to see my lambs face to face from time to time.” He looked toward the analyst, his one eyebrow raised. “It was once said that a family that eats together stays together.”
In a trembling spasm of a whisper, the analyst protested. “I do not require it. I do not require this, this food. Please excuse me.”
“No more of that!” Dr. Monsa barked. The analyst fell silent, placing his chin down to sulk. His head gyrated back and forth as though afflicted with a nervous tic.
Presently, the new arrivals were seated. Sara, the tall concubine, sat sandwiched between the two battered products, one of which sat next to D_Light. The priest seated himself across the table, and the analyst sat at the far end, allowing himself an empty chair on either side as though attempting to quarantine himself.
The doctor complimented Djoser on his choice of bodyguard. “ Homo sapiens # 43687 is a good model. Attractive, yet loaded with enough cunning and speed to hold off three of my cullers for nearly eight seconds! I’ll send you the archive. You will be pleased with her performance.”
Djoser hesitated, taking time to swallow. “Like your analyst, Amanda enjoys what she does.”
“Yes, and that is as it should be. A good wetgineer instills in his products a natural love for their purpose. Anything else would produce suboptimal performance and, if you subscribe to my line of thinking, is even unethical.”
“I agree, sir,” Lyra commented while straightening her posture. “I realize that products are not human, but it is still our responsibility to make them as comfortable as possible, even happy, if such a term applies.”
Dr. Monsa furrowed his brow slightly. “That is the general sentiment of the profession. However, there are some products designed specifically not to enjoy their purpose.” With these last words, the doctor pointed to Lily with a tilt of his head.
Lyra’s voice lifted delicately. “I beg your pardon, but I do not know what you are referring to.” Her eyes darted between the doctor and Lily. Lily nervously looked back at Dr. Monsa, smiled with a trembling lower lip, and then looked forward.
The doctor looked at Lyra with curious eyes. “Hmm, well…”
He took a deep breath as though stalling to think of what to say next, but he was preempted by BoBo, who rolled her eyes. “What? You don’t know?” she asked disbelievingly. “She’s a camper.”
A camper? Smorgeous, what the hell is that? D_Light sent to his familiar.
It took only a second for Smorgeous to mash together a summary from various sources on the Cloud:
Homo sapiens #4586754 (camper)
Entertainment. Campers serve as quarry in the hunting reserves, typically hunted by rape-and-kill fetishists.
Typical High-Level Phenotype:
Appearance:
— 94 % Blond Bombshell
— 3 % Waif Asian
— 2 % African Beauty
— 1 % Other
Psychological Profile:
— 99 % Moral ^*
— 99 % Hygienic ^*
— 93 % Sensitive ^*
Intelligence is variable. Depends on human template used and outside factors (see human intelligence).
Other notes: Campers are generally marketed as one-use products due to their termination shortly after capture. This is advised by the manufacturer due to extensive degradation of psychological phenotype if used as catch and release.
Smorgeous offered other resources for more detailed information, but D_Light decided not to open them just yet.
It was quiet at the table until Lyra, having tapped into Djoser’s familiar to research the subject, broke the silence. “That’s disgusting! A completely sordid business! To design a-a perfect rape victim? My Soul, is there no limit to what a player will do for a couple of points?”
“A couple of points? No, try a lot of points,” Djoser said. Lyra scowled at him, at which point he added, “Uh, not that I’ve looked into it, of course. Just, you know, a few of the guys…Well, campers are one-use products, so it doesn’t take a genius to know hunting them would cost a fortune.”
Lyra bunched up her hand into a fist. “Don’t be stupid!” she hissed at Djoser. Then, addressing the doctor, she said, “Begging your pardon, sir.”
Dr. Monsa shrugged and looked over to Lily with an expression that D_Light could not read on his misshapen face. “It is I who beg your pardon, Lily. I did not realize your, er, your friends were unaware of your background.”
The analyst, who until now had been absently poking at his food, looked up and stared pointedly at Lily. “You…you escaped the reserves?” His voice quavered. “How? How did you escape from a place like that?”
At this point several people at the table started speaking at once.
Djoser: “Ridiculous, really. Just the R amp;D to design such a product…”
Analyst: “Lily is your name, right? Lily, yes, I would truly like to see your archive of the escape…”
Priest: “You’re off the reservation. My Soul, you’re a demon, then!”
Analyst: “Oh, dear me, I suspect you have no archive. Campers are not fitted with chips…”
Djoser: “…would cost a fortune, and then the cost to grow her…”
Analyst: “Perhaps just you and I sit down back at my den and you give me your story…”
D_Light: “Why don’t we leave this alone?”
Djoser: “Such an expense for a few hours of fun? My Soul, how some players live!”
Analyst: “I can scan you there, at my den. It does not hurt a bit. Your story would be valuable…”
Lily’s eyes were tearing up as they fixed on something distant.
Sara: “Despoil you? That is your purpose? You look like a kitten. No sport in it, I suspect…”
Lyra: “You are being rude.”
Sara: “Rude? That thing is just a toy.”
As Sara said this, the concubine sneered and then plunged a fork down into the hand of the product seated between her and D_Light. It howled and thrashed, knocking over D_Light’s wine glass and flipping his plate.
“My Soul!” D_Light leaned back away from the anguished product.
Lily bolted up, knocking her chair backward, and then she walked quickly away from the table. She disappeared down a shrubbery corridor.
Lyra glared at Sara. “How dare you! I’m flipping royalty, and you were born a slut! You don’t question anything I say!” Lyra sprang up. She looked as though she were preparing to pounce on the concubine.
Dr. Monsa struck his wine glass with his fork several times, resulting in a high-pitched chime that cut above the clamor. Everyone ceased fire and looked over at him, at which point he said, “Sara, that is no way to behave at the table! Leave us now!” Sara gave her master a cold look, but she immediately got to her feet while grabbing the hair of the two products. She dragged them away with her.
Taking a bite from his plate and addressing the table without swallowing, the doctor said, “I apologize for Sara’s behavior. She gets overexcited when she sees new faces.”
“I mean no offense, sir, but your concubine appears unstable.” Lyra’s face was flushed.
“Indeed, she is one of my earlier designs. I’m afraid in my younger years I put too much emphasis on passion and vivacity. But she loves me. So what can I do?”
One of the clones leaned over the table to better see Lyra and offered, “Mother Lyra, if it is any consolation, my sisters and I hate her too.”
The doctor laughed. “Yes, remember Mua_So_Pretty? She was one of my girls. She tried to kill Sara, but the old lady came out on top that time.”
D_Light stood up and bowed. “Doctor, I am afraid I feel the call of nature, and I ask to be excused.”