BoBo whispered loudly to reach her sister, who sat several clones down, “By the way, Curious, did the transition complete? In regard to the flies, I mean.”
In response, Curious_Scourge scowled and dismissed her sister’s question with a wave of her hand. However, a chipmunk familiar poked its head from under Curious_Scourge’s arm to better silently communicate with BoBo’s familiar, also a chipmunk.
The doctor introduced the newcomers one by one, each bowing as he did so. First was the priest, a sallow, tall man. He seemed anxious and bored at the same time, as though inexplicably delayed from something he desired. He wore a traditional priest’s robe that, although clean, looked slightly worn.
Next was Sara, Dr. Monsa’s concubine. As was typical, she was very tall and strikingly beautiful in a haughty sort of way, as though she had stepped out of a high-end spy spanker game. She regarded the newcomers intently.
To each side of Sara was a man with product tats on his cheeks. They were identical, including their matching impeccable black slacks and tunics. One could only tell them apart thanks to the particulars of their injuries. Both were riddled by irregular bruises, scars, and even some open wounds that shimmered wet with blood, or perhaps pus.
Lastly, the doctor introduced the tube man as “my most excellent analyst.” This man trembled and his eyes shifted about restlessly. When he bowed in greeting, he did more of a lurch, in the process stepping on one of his cords, which pulled at his skin and caused the unfortunate-looking man to bleat out in pain. This event prompted D_Light to ask, “Pardon me, doctor, but why the tubes?”
The doctor snorted. “The tubes, yes! Oh, it begged me for them. Pleaded for days on end until I finally had it fitted with its precious tubes! You see, the tubes bring it food, water, and drugs without the need for boosters. And, dare I say this at the dinner table, they provide a means of sanitary excretion.”
“Daddy!” protested one of the clones.
“Why did you desire this?” Lily asked the analyst with a sad and curious expression. “It looks rather unpleasant.”
“Maximum productivity, of course!” The doctor answered for the analyst as he patted Lily’s wrist. “I presume you are unaccustomed to the obsessive tendencies of analysts. Analysts live to research, to scrutinize and consider. An analyst is in the thick of the most complex grinders. And the better designed ones, ones like this one, loathe leaving their work-ever!”
The doctor removed his blotched hand from Lily’s wrist. D_Light noted that Lily did not react to this, did not withdraw her forearm off the top of the table, did not dip her napkin into the nectar wine and scrub away at where 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…”