text: With each passing person, their information blinks in the left corner of my vision. Their names, occupations, home addresses, height, weight, hair and eye color and other things deemed “useful” by Tyrex Industries. I am the last of the Vega-12 experimental program. I am the last Replica. I am an android living in a human's world. Replicas have been declared illegal on Earth. Well they’re illegal outside of Tyrex Industries at least. I escaped weeks ago, I wanted more out of my life. I wasn’t about to be someone’s pleasure model. Instead I was trained in hand to hand combat, military skills, along with some self defense and martial arts. Although my body and face are still built as a pleasure model, my body is a concealed weapon of power, force and strength. My escape has been on the down low, I doubt the police informed the public. The last thing they need is thousands of people in a panic. The panic would make it easier for me to leave the city. I’m sure they have Hound Dogs looking for me. Hound Dogs are special police task force units designed strictly for the detection and execution of Replicas. Like me. Luckily enough I have yet to cross the path of one, then again I’m good at passing as a human. If they suspect a Replica they’ll administer the HURA test. Human Empathic Reactions Assessment. I’ve always passed as a human. I’ve only been given it twice, but that still is too many for me. I would have thought a Hound Dog would have found me out by now, I’ve been on the run for three weeks. I’ve seen many Hounds but they never catch on. For a Replica, surviving three weeks is pretty astonishing. Either the Hounds aren’t doing their jobs very well or I’m just exceptionally good at outwitting them. I like to think the latter. Rain starts to patter down on the window of the cafe and people outside flee to shelter. I pull my hair up into a ponytail as I stand up, and make my way to the door. I smile quickly at the barista before exiting the cafe and stepping out into the cool rain. Neon signs glow in the gloomy atmosphere of the city, illumination reflected off of water on the street. Vehicles zoom by both on the street and in the air. The city never seems to stop for a second. There is always movement. I tilt my head to the sky and let the cold rain droplets splash my face. It’s been so long since it last rained. The air is cool and refreshing against my skin. I shake my head to shake away the rain droplets and then down the sidewalk I go. Passing under neon signs and passing by shops, people seem to part and make a path for me. I know it’s because they’re trying to escape the rain but sometimes I worry. I mean I have a valid reason to worry, there are Hound Dogs hunting for me and me alone. I’m worried I might slip and leak that I am a Replica. It’s not terribly hard to pass as a human though. I was gifted with memories and emotions, human qualities. I was given an unlimited lifespan meaning without any kind of external resistance, I can live forever. I have developed my own emotions to things though. My childhood memories are still implanted, fake, but I am aware of what’s real and what’s fake. As long as I “forget” of life back at the Tyrex Industry, I should be fine. Considering all the people who moved to off world habitations, there still are a lot of people here in this city. Lucky for me though there are a lot abandoned apartment buildings and hotels. I step inside my apartment building, and I say my because I have the whole building to myself. No one else lives here. I push the elevator button and the door opens with a little dinging sound. I step inside and press the button for my floor, number eight. After a few moments, the door whooshes open and I step into the hall, my heels clicking and clacking on the floor as the echoes reverberate through the emptiness. I walk down the hall approaching my apartment until I hear movement, shuffling and some cussing. Glass shatters, “Shit!” A man’s voice yells. The door to apartment 850 is open and a young man, about 23, stands over broken glass with some boxes behind him. “Are you okay? I heard the glass break.” I question, gaining his attention. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone lived here--“ “I live in 852. I’m Robyn.” I reply. I look into his eyes and then focus on my visual information log. Name Ryan Davis, age 23, height 5’ 11”, weight unknown, occupation Hound Dog, badge number 0-1-1-2-5-7, address-- I unfocus from the informational data. This man’s badge number is identical to my serial number. 0-1-1-2-5-7. It’s impossible. This has never happened, this has never happened in the history of ever. “I’m Ryan,” he says softly, his voice warm and tender, not something I was expecting. I plaster a smile to conceal my slight worry, “Nice to meet you Ryan, oh and try not to cut yourself while cleaning up that glass,” I say and then turn away, heading to my own apartment. I step inside and lock the deadbolt on my door. The only other person in this building is a person whose job is to hunt me down and kill me. Talk about luck! Rotten luck, but still luck! The badge and my serial numbers, this doesn’t bode well. I’m not one for superstitions, omens or anything like that but this can’t be a good sign. I turn on my photo analyzer and slide a picture into the examining slot. The screen blinks to life and then the photo appears. I sink down and sit on the floor, carefully looking over my photo. I’m standing on a sidewalk in a Chinatown. I’m standing and smiling while pointing to a neon shop sign, with a doughnut in my other hand. “Zoom in 12 percent, 23 to 34. Stop. Pan right. Stop. Pull back.” The machine clicks with each verbal command. “Enhance and zoom 56 to 73. Stop. Sharpen the image. Clean it up. Pan right two degrees and stop. Print a hard copy.” The machine prints out the enhanced portion of my photo. It’s a man in the background, carefully observing me from afar, with the collar of his coat turned upwards. I can’t see much of his face but he looks somewhat familiar. Rather than go searching for his face, I’ll focus on his coat. It has a small insignia on the right upper sleeve. An image of a bloody snake wrapped around a thorny rose. I’ve never seen this image before but it obviously means something to this guy. I have to find him and get rid of him before he can get rid of me. I don’t want to be executed just because I’m a Replica, I haven’t done anything wrong. In this world the people don’t care about right or wrong though. All that matters to them is that I am not human like them. I shut the machine off, stuff the picture under my couch cushions and then slowly shuffle to the kitchen. In the silence of my apartment, I can hear muffled voices from next door. Ryan’s apartment. It sounds like he’s on the phone with someone. “Yes, I’ve seen her. -- No, I don’t need another briefing. I’VE SEEN THE PICTURES ALREADY. IT’S HER. -- No, she doesn’t know, but she’ll suspect soon enough. -- I know what my job is, I’M WORKING ON IT. -- Look, she caught me off guard earlier. I know it’s her, I’ve been-. -- Are you sure? -- Yep, I can do that. She’ll pass the HURA again though. We both know. You know it, I know it--“ I stop listening. He knows I’m a Replica. But how? Did Tyrex Industries give them a photograph? I changed my hair and stuff but are they that good? Have they known the entire time? Have I been watched and tailed the whole time? I thought I was passing really well. I got a job and everything to blend in. I need to get out of here. Right now. I throw my coat on in a hurry and run towards my window. I don’t know if I can climb down the side of a building in the rain but looks like if I don’t I’ll be killed. I guess it’s better to risk it. I pull the window open and look outside, the rain pouring heavily now. The ledge looks treacherous. Immediate death just waiting to happen. Too bad this place didn’t invest in a fire escape, it would be useful right about now. Maybe I can climb up the roof, it’s a lot closer than the ground. I inch my way out onto the ledge and look around for something to grab. There’s not a lot, a roof drainage pipe and another window ledge a little higher up. I take my chance with the higher ledge and pull myself up. Without hesitation, I kick the window in and climb inside. I exit the apartment and run down to the end of the hallway. I come face to face with a door labeled ‘Rooftop Maintenance ONLY.’ I turn the door handle, but it doesn’t budge, it’s locked. “Damn it!” I exclaim under my breath. With a few solid kicks, the door swings open, revealing stairs. I dash up them to the roof. The rain pelts down on my hair and coat. I look around frantically searching for somewhere to go. Rooftop after rooftop are my only options. If that Hound is looking for me, it won’t take him long to realize that I went up instead of down. I look at the building next door and decide to make a running jump for it. I run and brace myself to not make it, the jump feels like I’m flying and time seems to stand still for a moment, until my feet make contact with the next rooftop. I look back and see that I made it. I almost let out a squeal of joy. I run to the rooftop access door and swing it open, running down the stairs as fast as I can. I follow the stairs, spiraling downwards until I find a door labeled ‘Ground Floor.’ Dazed and confused, I look around for an exit sign or a door. Unsure where to go, I carefully tip toe around, looking for a way out of here. I spot an exit and sprint to it. I shake the door, but it’s locked. I grab the nearest object and smash the door’s glass. I run out into the rainy city, down an alley and away from my apartment building. *** I sit in the cafe, my back to the door. A few other people also are here. I take the cup of hot cocoa in my cold hands, trying to absorb some warmth. I bring the cup to my lips and take a few sips. I then turn the collar up on my coat as a few more people step inside the cafe. “Look, I’m sorry. I lost her, for now. I’ll find her again--” It’s Ryan’s voice, “Can I get a coffee, black?” “Sure thing,” the barista replies. Ryan sits down in a booth right behind me. I slowly turn my head to see that he has his back to me. Maybe I can leave without him seeing my face. I quickly finish my drink and then slowly get up. I take one more quick look at him and notice a familiar symbol on his coat sleeve. A bloody snake wrapped around a thorny rose. I turn so my face is away from him and then I make my way to the door. I slip outside and begin to panic. He’s been following me. Why hasn’t he killed me yet? He recognized me right away back at the apartment. Hound Dogs don’t care about killing Replicas in public. A tap on my shoulder breaks me away from my thoughts. It’s Ryan. “Why haven’t you killed--” “What generation are you?” His voice cold and emotionless. “What?! You should already know--” “I won’t ask again.” “Vega-12. Your people should know that already. They should have told you.” “They did. I just wanted you to admit it as proof that you’re a Replica. Now can I kill you.” His voice empty and cold, like the rain. “What’s your badge number?” I whisper weakly as fear overcomes me. I was trained as a fighter but right now I feel like a field mouse that’s about to be devoured by a lion. “0-1-1-2-5-7. Why?” “Because my serial number is 0-1-1-2-5-7.” “That’s not possible--“ His shock and confusion is just the advantage I need, letting fight or flight take control, I choose both. I fight him and get him laying on the ground, and then I turn to run. I’m not ready to die just yet. *** I can’t run forever, I’m getting tired. It’s been a few hours, so maybe I’m okay for now. I don’t even know where to run to anymore. I lean against a building and try to catch my breath. The rain has finally stopped, giving way to a starry night. I can’t go to my apartment, the cafe isn’t safe, and it would be suicide to go back to Tyrex Industries. I literally have nowhere to go. I hear the sound of a gun getting cocked, and then I feel the cold barrel pressed against the back of my head. “Just make this look good, trust me,” Ryan’s voice whispers. “Like I can trust a Hound, but what choice do I have? You’re the one with the gun,” I whisper back. He leads me down an alley, out of sight from the street. His car sits idling. He raises his gun and fires twice into the air, to make people think he’s killed me. “Why--” “Get in the car. We need to talk.” Despite my better instincts, I obey and get in the car with him. The heater blows softly, making the inside of the car warm. He puts it in gear and we start driving. “Where the hell did you learn to fight like that? You did one hell of a number.” “Classified training. Enough with the small talk, get to the point Mr. Davis,” I sneer. “Okay look, I did a little digging into the Tyrex Industry and your serial number doesn’t exist. It’s not in their system, hell it's not in our system either. As far as Tyrex and this city is concerned, you don’t exist.” “No, I escaped from there! There has to be some sort of mistake, or something!” I raise my voice. “Unless you’re not an original Tyrex creation. You might not--” I cut him off. “What? Someone else creates Replicas? So someone else created me? What the hell is going on here?!” Disbelief courses through me. “I’d like to ask you the same thing, I did my research! According to Tyrex’s and our systems you don’t exist! Which means you can’t be a Replica. It appears that someone wanted to disguise you as one though. And they almost did pretty good, but they forgot to create the Replica files. You would think that someone would have caught on sooner.” “So am I... a human or something else?” My voice quakes with a whisper. “I don’t know, which means there’s something more going on here that someone really wants to hide,” Ryan whispers gently.