It only took one day for Isabel’s litter to develop the Doc Marten patch. The day after, I successfully tested the code on myself, and Paula distributed it to all the liberated women. Everyone got the security update, except for Rita. We couldn’t find her anywhere. She’d been off the grid for almost three days.
Three days—that’s just crazy.
Offline, Rita wouldn’t be able to download the security patch. Hell, she wouldn’t even know that she needed one. According to Paula’s theory, the only way to notify Rita would be to get high on the same drug that she was on. Someone had to match her frequency. We all knew speed was her drug of choice. I volunteered to be the one to connect with her, but honestly, I hated the way amphetamines made me feel. For me, the energetic high always came with a heaping side dish of nervous paranoia.
After a lot of experimenting; dexedrine, biphetamine, desbutal, and phentermine, I still couldn’t hear Rita. That left only one unexplored option—methamphetamine.
So I snorted some crystal meth.
Huzzah!
Get amped!
Grandiose.
Invincible.
Hoo boy!
Finally, I found Rita’s live video feed, but another word problem popped into my head at the same time. Take a hundred drug-induced ideas (100A), add the ability to see through two sets of eyes at once (2B), then multiply times infinite energy (∞E), and you get some sort of manic reverie (C++).
(Focus, Cookie, I’ve got a story to tell.)
Sorry, Rita. I don’t know how you function on this shit.
(Crystal takes some getting used to.)
Instantly, I recognized my old living room and broke out in a cold sweat.
Why are you at my house, Rita?
(The men brought me here.)
I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth.
First, I saw Norman reclining in my reading chair, tapping away on a laptop. Funny, he always claimed to be a luddite. Seriously, Norman swore up and down that he hated technology. He didn’t even carry a smartphone, just a cheap burner. In seven years of marriage, I never saw him touch a computer, but my shitbag of a husband obviously knew what he was doing at the keyboard.
I felt something crawl under my skin and picked at my elbow.
Next, I spotted Rita’s fiancé, George, fixing drinks in my old kitchen. The man was a lanky, seven-foot-tall vegan with black hair and sharp features. He wore his sporty sunglasses on a tether around his neck. I’ve always thought he and Rita were mismatched. A nursery rhyme popped into my head:
Jack Sprat could eat no fat.
His wife could eat no lean.
Between the two of them,
They licked the platter clean.
(You aren’t the first to tease us. Say what you want, Cookie. I like a skinny man.)
Personally, I prefer more muscle.
Without even stretching, George reached all the way to the back of the cabinet over the refrigerator and pulled out a dusty bottle of single malt. He poured three fingers of whiskey into two rocks glasses, dropped a single ice cube in each, then offered a drink to my husband.
“Thanks, man.” Norman guzzled it down.
“Who chugs Scotch?” George took his empty tumbler and left it on the breakfast bar. “Have some class and savor the flavor, man.”
Imagining what these two weasels had planned made me twitch.
I caught a glimpse of Rita’s reflection in the sliding glass door as she sat naked at Norman’s feet while gazing up at her fiancé adoringly. Though, calling her naked could be kind of misleading. Sure, she didn’t have any clothes on, but it wasn’t erotic—no—not sexy at all. Because Rita had no breasts and no ass left. She’d thinned her skin all the way down to the micro-transparent silicon barrier of a tin-job. Her belly button was just an open port now. She sat cross-legged on the floor exposing her genitals, and her lady parts looked more mechanical than sensual.
Rita, I’ve got an urgent security update.
(My Georgie’s so handsome.)
Look Rita, I need to tell you about the spyware—
(Not now, Cookie. He’s going to take me back. I just know it.)
Georgie asked her, “What happened to the diamond ring I gave you?”
“I, uh.” Rita looked down at her bony feet and grabbed her big toe like an ashamed child. “I lost it.”
Don’t lie, Rita. Stand up and tell him you gave it to Wayne as an offering.
(Shut up, Cookie.)
“You lost it?” Her towering fiancé paced while berating her, “All those years of bitchin’ and moanin’. All the other women in New Stepford are married. And all the other women in New Stepford have diamond rings. And all the other women in New Stepford blah, blah, blah-dee, blah. So I finally broke down and bought you a damn ring, and you go and lose the frickin’ thing?”
“Just try to understand, Georgie.”
“Diamonds don’t grow on trees, you know.” He sipped his drink, then flatly said, “It’s over, Rita.”
“But I’ve given you all I can,” she whimpered.
“Over is over.” He scowled.
Her spindly fingers touched her minimal torso. “Look, Georgie. I’m trying my hardest to show you who I really am, on the inside.”
“I dunno, babe.” He looked her up and down. “You’re like a skeleton now, way too scrawny.”
That’s the pot calling the kettle black.
(Stay out of this, Cookie.)
Georgie squatted, stared at her crotch, then poked at it reluctantly. “Are you still the same. In there?”
“Oh? My.” Rita glanced between her legs. “Well, yes. I am. And actually, I can make it anyway you like. Tighter. Softer. Deeper. Wetter. Whatever you want.”
“Then put your skin back on, babe. All of it. And also the red hair.” He backed away and gestured with his drink at her flat chest. “The boobs too. I want your old tits back… Actually, make them bigger while you’re at it.”
“Oh no. I can’t do that.”
“Can’t? Or won’t? I guess you don’t really love me as much as you claim to. And here I thought you wanted to be my wife.”
“For the first time in my entire life, I’m finally thin, Georgie.” She pulled her emaciated legs together and hugged her knees bashfully. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Please. Let me have this. Can’t you be happy for me?”
“I thought I was all you ever wanted.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry. You’re all I ever dreamed of, but I want to be thin too.”
“I wanna be thin tooooo,” he mocked. “Jesus, Rita, you’re so damn insecure.” Georgie turned to Norman and said, “She can be so exhausting. See why I never took this assignment full time?”
“It’ll take forever to log all her testing hours as a part-timer.”
So that’s why he’s been stringing you along all these years.
(Oh no. He just has a fear of commitment. He’s been hurt before.)
He’s been hurt? What the hell is he doing to you?
Georgie told Norman, “Unlike all you weirdo botfuckers, I still prefer human tang. This is just an extra paycheck for me. And speakin’ of scratch, can I have her for free? This ain’t gonna cost me, is it? Because I’m already out a diamond.”
“Well, not a real diamond,” Norman chuckled, “just a cubic zircon—”
George cut him off with a slicing throat gesture.
“Oh yeah, right.” Norman buried his face in his laptop.
“So you’ll take me back?” Rita nearly leapt into his arms.
“Calm down, babe.” Georgie guided her back down to the floor. “I ain’t sayin’ that yet. I’m still toying with the idea of getting a new plus-sized Betty. I’d like a prettier one that ain’t so rickety.”
“She can hear you, man,” Norman whispered. “She understands.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
Rita whimpered, “Stop playing with my heart, Georgie.”
“So Norman, can I get a free demo or not? Can you work your black-hat magic so that I don’t have to pay for this anorexic bitch?”
“We already get to test women for free. That’s the assignment.”
“Yeah, but if I take this thing back, I want marital user privileges.”
“Why? I thought you preferred human tang… Besides, you don’t even like her.”
“Oh no. He likes me. He loves me,” Rita interrupted, then turned to her fiancé and asked, “You love me, don’t you, Georgie?”
“Something totally mental happens to these bitches once they’re married. I’ve heard they try way harder to keep things interesting in the sack. Spicy. Eager. Accommodating.”
Norman said that was true.
“See? Now that’s what I’m after. I’ll try anything once.” Georgie pointed at Rita. “And imagine this one trying even harder to please me sexually. Whew, boy!”
Norman said he’d rather not.
“Make me her master. Then I can just lay back and be serviced all night while getting paid for it. Her on top doin’ all the work and me cashing all the checks—now that’s a dream job.”
“It does have its perks,” Norman said, wistfully.
“I don’t wanna do shit. I want it easy and sleazy! Screw bedroom equality. I ain’t goin’ down on that wiry mess. When I feel like making an effort, I’ll go find a real woman in the city.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Norman laughed. “Good thing I’ve still got my sure-fire Cookie hack.”
His WHAT now?!?
“That’s right. You got hitched to your broad for free, didn’t you?”
“Sure did,” Norman bragged.
My husband got me for free?!? Well, shit. I wanted to be FREE, but not that kind of free.
(At least you got married.)
FAKE married, Rita. F-A-K-E.
Norman boasted, “I even recycled the ring from my last assignment. Cookie didn’t cost me one red cent. At least not until after we were married.”
RECYCLED that fake-ass ring? Last assignment? Does that mean he’s done this before? OMG! How many times?
Georgie smiled. “Then I found the right hacker for the job.”
What the hell?!? Norman’s a hacker?
(Maybe he just has a passion for piracy.)
Stop making excuses for these guys!
Norman—that hacker shitbag—shoved a cord into the USB port on his laptop, then gave the round end to my friend and said, “Plug in, Rita.”
Don’t do it!
(I don’t want to be alone anymore, Cookie.)
Sometimes, alone is better.
She ignored me and crammed the plug into her open belly-button port. “I’ll do anything, Georgie. Anything.”
Then Norman typed away in furious bursts and frantic mousepad clicks.
You know George is just your alpha tester. You aren’t even engaged. And you two will never be married, not for real. The collective is your family now. We’re your sisters. You’re not alone anymore, Rita. I’m here for you—right now—and I’m REAL. No matter what you do for this man, it’ll all be based on a lie. You’ll never know true intimacy with him. Don’t give into the fantasy.
She started to cry, “I just want to come home with you, Georgie.”
“No, duh.” He looked at her with contempt. “I dunno, Rita. You’re real hard on the eyes. Maybe if we only fuck with the lights out. Without all that meat on your bones, you ain’t soft enough for me now. Maybe if I flip you over and layer some pillows over you and close my eyes and pretend you’re someone else.”
“Oh, sure. Whatever you want. Please, just let me show you how much I love you, Georgie.”
I think I’m going to puke.
“What if I was thinner?”
“Jesus, woman. What part of I dig fat chicks don’t you understand? I need giant titties in my face to get off. You know that.”
“But I hate being fat.”
“Well, I only get chubs for chubs.” He pulled a Hershey bar out of his back pocket and threw it at her. “Chocolate. Eat it.”
She stared at the candy, then looked to him for mercy. “But I don’t want to hate myself anymore.”
“Hacked and ready,” Norman announced with a clever grin. “You are now—” He made air quotes. “—man and wife.”
“Did you hear that, babe? We’re official! You can come home with me now. Let the honeymoon begin!”
“You’re making a fool of me…” Her bulging eyeballs glared at her new husband. “Aren’t you?”
“Gross.” Georgie slid his sunglasses onto her face. “How am I supposed to get a boner up with those frog eyes staring back at me?”
“I think…” Her internal recyclone hummed. “I’m going insane.”
“Goin’?” Her husband teased. “More like gone, babe.”
Inside, Rita was dying. Being fat hurt. Being single hurt. And now, much to her surprise, being married hurt. No matter what she did, everything hurt. She couldn’t win, so she decided to reduce her overall mass, because her size was the one thing she could control. First, she liquified her remaining organs. Next, she reduced her muscle mass until she couldn’t move. Finally, she started chipping away at her brain bit by bit.
Rita, stop. You’re eating yourself alive.
(I told you to shut up, Cookie.)
“Why are you still getting smaller?” Georgie shouted in frustration. “I order you to gain your weight back. Make yourself the same as when we first met. That’s a command from your husband.”
But Rita was disappearing right before his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you, woman? You’re doin’ the exact opposite of what I want.” Panic crept into his voice. “You can’t do that. Can she Norman? Doesn’t she have to obey me now?”
“She should.” He urgently typed on his laptop. “But she’s stuck in a negative feedback loop, and I can’t break it.”
“You’re a hacker,” Georgie yelled, “hack that skinny bitch!”
“I’m trying! I’m trying!”
Meanwhile, Rita kept shrinking.
“I command you to make yourself fat again, Rita,” George shouted at her, “that’s an ORDER!”
“You keep on…” Her voice became increasingly modulated. “Pushing me.”
Rita, stop! No man is worth this!
(Let me be, Cookie.)
He likes what he likes, Rita. It’s not your fault!
Her titanium skeleton became increasingly porous as the recyclone ate away her bone mass. And soon Rita devoured so much of her own spinal column that her neck could no longer support the weight of her skull. Her muscles were too weak, and her head fell backward and dangled between her shoulder blades. Her camera flipped, and all I could see was my upside-down rainbow of books through dark sunglasses.
“Dammit, Rita. You’re so neurotic,” Georgie scolded, “you never listen.”
“Shit, man. Back off,” Norman interrupted, “you’re breaking her.”
“Pfft! I never laid a hand on her.”
“You’ve got a tongue like a razor, George.”
“What? You feel sorry for that thing now?”
“No, not at all, but this—”
“Whose side are you on, man? A robot disobeying a command—that’s a malfunction. Are we here to test? Or are we here to play house?”
“Feels like…” Her floppy, backward, upside-down head whispered, “I'm losing… My mind…”
“You’re the one torturing yourself, babe.”
“So… Much… Pain…”
“Just turn off your feelings and follow my orders, Rita. It’s that simple!”
“You keep… On pushing… Me…”
“Hot damn! Look at her destroying herself,” Georgie announced with pride, “I’m frickin’ great at this job.”
“Keep… Pushing…”
Her legs were the next to go. Then her hips. Then her shoulders. Then what was left of her mind. Finally, she collapsed into a pile of fragmented parts in the middle of my living room.
CONNECTION LOST.
And then Rita was gone.