LaidereHabitica01-07-2021

Written By: Laidere

Finish The Story - At the mall, you walk by a mannequin that looks just like you. Something odd is happening...

These models weren’t supposed to be released yet. I must establish contact with my handler and find out why the plan has been changed so dramatically.

As I try to look inconspicuous and keep my hood up, I see my own face staring back at me in store after store. Some of the “mannequins” are in playful poses holding beach balls and dressed in shorts and tank tops, wearing pony tailed wigs and sunglasses. Others in business skirts and sharp pressed jackets with their hands positioned on their hips in a serious pose. And the most ironic to me, are those in the dress shops, long formal gowns and towering heels peeking from under layers of sequins. The long flowing locks and painted look hiding the same face as all the others. I peer into the window at this gaudy creation and the unblinking eyes staring from posed figured. And as I pull away, the glass becomes mirrored and I see the same eyes in my reflection.

Glad to be wearing the casual hoodie, I try to pull it tighter around my face and fall back into the shadows. A shopper walks by and I pretend to be texting, head down and eyes hidden until he has fully passed without any suspicion. These pedestrians, they have no idea of the danger that surrounds them. Each model, a dangerous cybernetic machine once activated. Those styled hands and sculpted bodies hiding their threat in their plasticity. But for now, they are all still, inactive, and just mannequins to those passersbys that continue their mindless hunt for the perfect addition of some mundane summer wardrobe.

I make my way to the parking lot, glad to be away from those multitude of my own face in countless glass windows. Away from any potential listening ears, I try to call into my handler. It rings over and over, no answer. I try another number and again nothing. This is not good.

Finally, I try HQ. Models are never supposed to contact HQ directly, but this is an emergency.

Finally, someone picks up and a flat neutral and slightly robotic voice comes through.

“Customer service, how my I help you?” it says.

“Model T1009 reporting. There is an issue,” I say into the receiver.

The voice changes and becomes more human.

“T1009, you need to shut down. Shut down immediately,” the voice says with alarm.

“What? I am an advanced model – a 9 series, not the standard issue,” I say, feeling indignation at being mistaken for a regular 001 model. I may be an inorganic myself, but I can think and feel. I have a free will and act as a true operative, not some mindless drone like those models inside the mall.

“Shut down. You must shut down,” the voice repeats, clearly not understanding my rank.

“Now, listen to me,” I say, taking a more authoritative tone.

“Why have these models have been deployed? Why here? Why now? This makes no sense, why, why, WHY?” I bombard the voice with my questions. Though I doubt the human voice can tell, I hear the slight tremble in my own with the building anxiety.

“Shut down! Do you hear me?” the voice comes back to me, again with no answers.

I wait, silently begging for an understanding of what is going on. And at last, the voice continues.

“There has been a breach. Agents infiltered our supply chain and distributed the models to the wrong locations,” the voice says, sounding tired and defeated like this was not the first time today that it had been through the same explanation.

“So? Deploy the handlers and get these back into proper containment,” I reply with a commanding calm. While alarmed at the infiltration, I know that until activation, these cybernetic monsters are nothing more than the mannequins seen by the shoppers in the mall.

“No, you don’t understand!” the tiny phone voice shrieks at me through the receiver.

“It is a full hack! They have the code. Repeat, they have the code! You must shut down before it is too late,” the voice said in a rising pitch of panic.

I hang up annoyed. This is bad. Very bad, a hack and ability to activate the machines is one of the worst things that can happen. But I am a T1009 model. I am immune to such things. That operator was obviously unaware of my superiority.

Placing the phone back in my pocket, I turned back towards the mall. Reaching down to brush off the dust from my boots, I see my shoes take on a faint red glow.

Standing up quickly, no, it’s not my shoes. The whole sky is turning red.

But, no, it’s not the sky. There is a family across the way, loading their bags in the car, laughing and completely unaware of the ominous glow that is overtaking everything in my sight.

“No, that’s impossible. It can’t be!” I think to myself.

Just before my vision turns dark, I see a single message across my view – “Activation Complete.”