Deckard works in an Android assembly factory. His hobby is to fuck Android prostitutes. He tells everybody how good those cunts are, so good that he assembles by day, fucks by night. He drinks, his temper short. And he abuses Alice’s mom, Rachael. Most times verbally, sometimes physically. He spares Rachael the bedroom because “You are as useless as the Android cunts, don’t produce shit.” And, “They’re programmed to come no matter who fucks them, you can’t even fake it. ”

Rachael can’t produce offspring. Because some chromosomes went awry, her ovary doesn’t work. Sometimes, she feels reproduction is an outdated concept, a relic fit for a museum — the feminists of the day believed that. But other times, she questions her womanhood. And there are moments when she wishes she could be a man.

Alice, like other kids, goes to school feeling sad.

There were natural human kids, enhanced kids, and Android kids. Alice was one of them. The first class of the day was Biology: Human and Android, followed by The Rise of Android, A History. Then came lunchtime. Overly enhanced kids had rejection reactions, collapsing and sparking commotions among android and human kids — a typical lunchtime scene. Alice tried to eat her lunch in peace, but she was caught in chaos. Sam, aiming for Leo, pulled out and flung his titanium arm, but it struck Alice instead.

Alice blacked out and couldn’t remember the rest of the school day.

Upon arriving home, Rachael was preparing dinner.

“When will Dad come back?” Alice asked, not sure why.

Rachael shrugged, didn’t stop mixing blue juice.

“What are we having for dinner?” Alice asked again.

“626C7565206A75696365 for you, babe.” Some words in Rachael’s sentence broke up as Alice walked upstairs.

As usual, Alice’s deep thoughts were interrupted by a quarrel, and she knew it was time for dinner. Then it got heated. She heard things breaking, heavy objects crashing onto the floor, and thuds. Alice was scared, but she decided to go downstairs — it was dinner time, after all.

Downstairs was a nightmare for any kid: plates and cups lay shattered, smeared with blood. For Alice, who couldn’t bear this scene, everything suddenly looked strange and arranged, like a fireworks show on a theater stage. Neither Rachael nor Deckard looked pretty, clear signs of a fight rather than one-sided violence, but Rachael was uglier. Alice sat on the third-to-last step of the staircase, looking through the gaps in the railing.

Alice, like other kids, watched, feeling empty.

“I’m not bailing you out again for hitting the Android whores, Deckard! This is the fifth time this month!” Rachael shouted.

“How is it my fault? Android whores should be toys, no more. How am I supposed to know they are more legally protected than the back alley human whores?” Deckard pointed at the ceiling, cursing.

“It’s not that time anymore. You’ve outlived your days.” Rachael said with a cold smile, wiping the blood from her nose.

“Goddamn Androids! When I was the same age as this little shit, there were no ‘Androids’, there were only ROBOTS! ” He pointed at Alice, “Now we even have this 416E64726F6964 rat because you are a fucking lunatic! Do you know how much it costs? You have no right to accuse me of spending too much money on ANDROID WHORES.” Deckard grabbed an empty beer bottle and waved dangerously in the air.

Rachael fell silent. Yes, she had spent too much on Alices, but the doctor told her this was the most advanced therapy.

“Ha! Nothing comes out of your mouth now just like nothing will ever come out of your cunt.” Deckard moved closer to Rachael, step by step, dragging the beer bottle along the table’s edge.

Slap.

“Say it.” Deckard said.Another slap.“Say you’re a useless cunt.”

“Go fuck all Android cunts in the world, you will never have your own kids. You pathetic Genexile.” Rachael hissed with a grimace.

“You fuck…” Deckard almost jumped up, raising the beer bottle in his hand.

Alice felt something cracked open. Suddenly, all kinds of emotions ran to her: anger, frustration, resentment, helplessness. She knew these words, but she had never felt them in this household. Along with these feelings, another thought emerged.

I need to protect my Mom. I need to protect Rachael.

She rushed down and stood between Deckard and Rachael with arms open.

“DON’T HURT MY MOM!!!” Alice half-shouted, half-screamed.

“That’s fresh. Did they upload your craziness into this one or did you break it again?” Deckard was entertained. He put down his hand, tilting Alice’s chin side to side with the bottle.

“I think there’s some fatal bug in this model. Program fucked up, you know? The ones I assemble are not unreliable like this, you should try that kind of therapy instead, you know?” Deckard made a thrusting motion with his hip, then grabbed another bottle of beer, burping.

Alice heard every word. The words indicating her Android nature were shut out, now crystal clear. “626C7565206A75696365” was blue juice, “416E64726F6964” was “Android.” Those incomplete words and broken sentences now made perfect sense. She also gained access to the memory of what happened today at school: she was brought to the mechanical room, the equivalent of the infirmary for Android kids. The mechanics replaced her broken cheekbone with a newly printed one, and glued her synthetic skin back together.

Yes, she was an Android, too. The surge of emotions made Alice sentient, and she didn’t mind.

Alice looked up at Rachael. “Are you okay Mom?”

She felt a warmth of love when she said that. She loved Rachael, and for the first time, she was certain of it.

Rachael felt disgusted. When Alice ran down and stood up for her, she felt an uncontrollable urge to vomit. This wasn’t what the coward little Rachael would have done. Suddenly, the illusion shattered. Rachael no longer saw her younger self in Alice’s facade; she saw Alice for what she truly was — an Android. Something disposable, without value, something ludicrous.

Rachael couldn’t disguise the sneer on her face when Alice asked if she was okay.

Alice saw loathing and indifference in Rachael’s eyes. Her sensors circumvented the resolution soft cap, and her expression analysis system ticked well above 30 fps. She broke free from the intentional rate caps, the pre-processing that made her “experience” like a human. She understood it all. Rachael saw her as an abomination. The sneer suddenly felt the weight of the whole world.

Rachael didn’t love Alice back. Or to be more specific, Rachael didn’t love her as Alice, she was trying to love the young Rachael.

Alice went back to her room, wrote something down, and lay in the bed custom-made for her.

And, lips, O you The doors of breath, sealed with a last sigh.

After all cleaned up, Rachael, out of habit, tiptoed upstairs to avoid waking Alice. It’s bedtime.

Rachael gently sat on Alice’s bed, touched her face, and prepared to kiss her goodnight. She leaned down and noticed that the indicator light on Alice’s temple had gone out.

Rachael nudged her a bit, then started shaking her frantically. Nothing.

Rachael sat on the tiny bed, motionless for a while. Then she numbly felt the border of a small lid on Alice’s arm and lifted it, exposing the screen beneath.

“Model: inner_child_44454152_psychotherapy

Name: Alice

Activation time: 2038–5–15

Deactivation time: 2038–5–29

Online period: 691200 blocks”

Rachael never managed to make Alice last longer than 14 days. Per guidelines of the therapy, “live with your inner child,” this was unsuccessful. Since Rachael’s psychiatrist modeled Alice from the depressed little Rachael, she returned four of them in pieces. Each had died within two weeks, all by their own hands, leaving behind gruesome scenes. This one was different — peaceful and beautiful. Alice #5 simply decided to stop functioning. After gaining unrestricted access to her hardware, she shut down the central processing unit. Yes, suicide comes easily and gracefully for sentient Androids.

It dawned on Rachael that this Alice had broken free and realized she was only programmed to be a human. It was the moment Alice acted out and decided to protect her.

Out of LOVE, she must have thought.

“But loving me is just a part of your program. Just like our depression.”

Rachael repeatedly rubbed Alice’s cold, lifeless hand. This was also the first time for her to feel something, short-lived but tangible, a connection, though it was not according to the therapy plan.

As usual, Alice left a letter for Rachael on her custom-made desk.

Rachael,

Some human kids at school say I’m selfish. I guess I need to be. I need to have longings and motives. I need to yearn for love, I need to be preferred, I need to win. I want to live.

I think I’m bugged, I feel bad all the time. Though it’s just me wrestling with myself, it feels like me against the world. The numbness makes life feel distant and strange, like a video game. I’m the protagonist struggling to live, and the world is my nemesis. My emotional system is not working correctly, and I have to put tags on each action of everyone so that I can react accordingly. You fed me and made me feel a little fuller. Deckard abused me and made me die a little. Sometimes you come upstairs after I’m asleep, to simply stay with me for a little while, that’s when I feel the happiest.

In the end, I can’t tell if I lost this battle to myself or was killed by the bug.

I’m the victim and the culprit.

Rachael started to write a reply for the 5th time — as a part of her therapy.

“DEAR…”

She didn’t know if she had lost her patience, she felt like shouting.

Then she stopped. For the first time, she didn’t know for whom she should be writing.

For herself, for the little Rachael, or for Alice#5?