Vanilla Velvet Audio Script: Yandere Mad Scientist Wife Finale! (Patreon)

Is the script sixteen thousand words? Yes. Did I mean for it to be that long? No. Will I have to push the premiere back by at least one day? Probably. Am I going to be editing nonstop during every free minute I have over the next twenty four hours? Yes. Are there too many ellipses, "um and ahs," inconsistent use of parentheses and other grammatical oddities? OH MY YES.

BUT IT'S DONE. THE STORY ARC IS COMPLETE, THE CONTINUITY ISN'T TOO RICKETY, AND THE STORY ENDS IN A SATISFYING WAY, I THINK. I HOPE.

The formatting may be a bit wonky in spots, but I'm tired and I have work to do, so I hope you'll forgive that for now. ^^; I'll fix it later!

I hope to get this out on YouTube on October 30, or perhaps as a special release on October 31 if I can get close to finished but not quite on time for a Wednesday release. Given the estimated length of the finished audio (at least an hour!) that may not happen. If that's the case, it'll be slated for November 6. 🙌

BACKGROUND

Unlike the previous scripts in this series, the finale is told in scenes that alternate from flashbacks to the past, to flash forwards into the present where we last left Listener. Each flashback highlights a different "aspect" of Wife Prime, the similarities between her as a whole person and all the individual pieces we've come to know since the start of the series when she split herself.

We've spent time with her different aspects individually, but I thought it would be nice to explore falling in love with the whole package. I also had some ideas about the Listener, their relationship, and a few other things that I thought would be fun af to play with. So I did.

THE ELEVATOR PITCH/HOOK

For the Listener: Your yandere mad scientist wife split herself--and after a failed trial run living with five versions of her, you convinced them to reintegrate. Or so you thought! One unwilling duplicate went rogue, disposed of the other four, and knocked you out after pretending to be Wife Prime! Now she's keeping you prisoner! Huh, that feels...strangely familiar.

Why did she do this? What does she want? Where are the others parts of the woman you love? Will you ever see them again? Or are you doomed to remember everything you once had and may never have again?!

CHARACTER NOTES:

MAIN CHARACTERS

WIFE PRIME: The sum total of the other five parts. A whole human being. Calls the Listener “Love.”

BLUE DUPLICATE: Flat, sarcastic, blunt, logical, preoccupied with more important matters than feelings and social graces; a kuudere. OR IS SHE DUN DUN DUN. Calls the Listener "Sweetheart"; nickname "Little Miss Logic."

THE OTHER DUPLICATES

YELLOW: Shy, timid, self-deprecating and a bit dimwitted; somewhere between dandere and bakadere. Calls the Listener "Darling"; in-universe nickname: "Creampuff.”

PURPLE: Sultry, seductive, lustily obsessed with the Listener; 90% femme fatale, 10% high school mean girl. Teasedere/Erodere-lite. Calls the Listener "Lover"; nickname: "Sex Kitten."

RED: Quick to anger, impatient, dismissive, violent; a tsundere. Calls the Listener "Babe"; nickname: "Stabby"

PINK: Cheerful, giggly, affectionate, a bit ditsy/distractable; somewhere between a deredere and bakadere. Calls the Listener "Honey"; nickname "Giggles.”

WIFE 2.0: A poorly implemented, computer program substitute for Wife Prime. Robotic. Breaks down constantly.

There are also a few minor characters who make very brief appearances, but...to reveal them is to spoil part of the climax! So...you'll just have to wait and see!

And now, without further ado... whatever the hell I'll be calling this final audio in the series!

FLASHBACK – BLUE ASPECT

SETTING: Wife Prime's original (pre-marriage!) lab, several years ago... She sits at a lab table, dictating into a recording device and typing.

WIFE PRIME: Experiment log number…what are we up to now, thirty-seven? Thirty-seven. Experiment log thirty-seven. New test subject acquired, captured in parking lot night of February 29th. Security camera footage appropriately scrambled, all backups destroyed. See attached copy of subject’s identification for official vital statistics. Carrying a small amount of cash, debit card, a few receipts, not much else. Financial accounts unremarkable.

Hm. What else? Subject is about my age, a bit taller than I am and thus harder to subdue, but what else is new? Nothing too out of the ordinary there.

I...ahem. I am reluctant to record this data, but I suppose in this case, the personal is professional, so on that note: I do find subject unusually attractive; very, unusually attractive. Quite strange. Diagnostics in progress on that front: genetic compatibility, pheromone analysis, etc.

I—

(Cage bar clang, recorder clicks off)

You’re awake. That’s unfortunate. I’d hoped you’d remain unconscious during my initial examination.

(Recorder click)

Subject thirty-seven unusually resistant to the standard cocktail of sedatives. Conduct full body scan to determine weight and muscle to body fat ratio, cross reference with genetic resistances. Adjust future dosages accordingly.

(Clang)

(Sigh)

(Click)

...yes? Can I help you? Banging on the bars of your cage while I try to work won’t convince me to release you any sooner, you know.

(Click) Test subject--

… (CLANG)

(Tsk) ...is quite disagreeable.

[...]

Did you require more reassurance? Fine. I’m a scientist, in case the Bunsen burners, Tesla coils and various pickled oddities floating in jars aren’t a dead giveaway. I intend to study and experiment on you—nothing fatal, I am a firm believer in catch and release. Though I can’t promise absolute comfort, I won’t do irreversible damage to your person.

When I’m through, I’ll wipe your memory and release you where I found you. You may be disoriented, having lost some time, but you’ll likely explain it away with alien abduction, a mugging, fugue state or mind-altering substance assisted “bender.” Most do. If all goes to plan, you won’t remember this ever happened, that’s all you need to know.

Now -- (click)

Mm. (paper) Vital sign readings are elevated, but within normal parameters for a human under stress. Test subject —

(Clang)

…maintains defiance though under duress. Inconvenient, even foolish, but admirable. [...] I can feel you glaring, I won’t spontaneously combust no matter how much you—

(chair creak)

Oh. You’re (genuine confusion) only staring at me. Hm. Unless your many evident charms include concussive optic blasts, that won’t kill me either.

(Pen scratching on paper)

Since you’re already conscious, let’s begin the psychological evaluation. Would you please confirm your full name for the record?

(silence)

(sigh) While it offers fascinating data, I feel it my duty to inform you that your resistance will only prolong your time with me. The faster you cooperate, the faster you can get back to your life.

(silence)

You don’t want to stay with the woman who snatched you off the street, that much would be unmistakable to even the most casual observer. Anything else would be laughable. Therefore, I reiterate: full name?

[...]

Thank you.

[...]

…and…a nickname. Ah, thank you. (surprised, a bit troubled) Offering such an intimate detail is not…what I expected. Rather out of the ordinary. I’ll make a note of it.

For the next portion of the test, I want to engage in a word association, ah, game. That is, if you’re amenable. Or, as close to it as you’re likely to get given the circumstances.

[...]

Are you trying to prolong this interaction intentionally? To get under my skin? It won’t work. You’re already under my skin—ah, every test subject is, to some degree, or I wouldn’t have chosen them.

[...] I warn you, I have, in the past, dipped into my stash of sodium pentathol on such occasions, but… I would like to study you unfettered by pharmaceutical “assistance.”

[...]

Alright. I’ll say a word to prompt you. All you have to do is say the first word that comes to mind. I’m sure you’ve seen this in the movies before, you know the drill.

Bright.

[...]

Night.

[...]

Feeling.

[...]

Shy.

[...]

Woman.

[...]

Interest.

[...]

Stalk.

[...]

Obsess.

[...]

Kidnap.

[...]

(long beat, emotional) Love.

(clearing throat)

Stimulating replies. Thank you. I’d say that was quite painless, wasn’t it? Now, moving on to—

[...]

I beg your pardon? Did you…ask what I’m trying to study?

Is this your attempt at creating a rapport? Hoping I’ll release you sooner if you convince me that you’re interested in me—my work? That you… (slightly pained) like me on some level?

[...]

Genuine intellectual curiosity, is it? Hmph. I bet you’d say that to any mad scientist who knocked you out and put you in a cage.

[...]

Just…me. I don’t believe that, but I must admit it’s one of the prettier lies I’ve heard recently. I’ll allow it.

My studies currently revolve around...mammalian attraction models and associated biochemistry. In layman’s terms: romantic attachment in all its stages. Love. Intimacy. Fear. Hatred. Feeling. The physiological processes and outside forces responsible for mating behavior and related cognitive experiences, as well as the eventual decay of such connections under adverse conditions. All the fractured parts of a person that make up the whole in a bonded mating pair.

[...]

More details? You— (scoff, slight laugh, disbelieving) You can’t possibly be interested in my methodology, my goals, my reasoning, my—everything. (beat, thoughtful, not trusting it) I think I liked you better when you were being oppositional. That was hardly advantageous but far more predictable and reasonable.

[...]

Uh… alright. I suppose I have nothing to lose. You’re not going anywhere. You won’t remember any of this. What harm could there be in entertaining your curiosity? (a bit pained) I am fully aware that nothing meaningful will come of this encounter.

Very well. (clearing throat) My interest in this particular field began when I was a child. My parents were…ah, intense, shall we say. Oldest story in the book, isn’t it? Going into an area of study to deal with unprocessed childhood issues. They were utterly obsessed with each other to what most would consider an unhealthy degree. (fading out begins) Mercurial in their moods, but never wavering in their devotion. Even as a youngster, I found this curious. My mother particularly had a penchant for...

PRESENT 

SETTING: The lab. Listener is slowly regaining consciousness in a large cell made of a thick, clear material. Basically a fish tank. The sounds of lab gradually fade in.

(Listener moves)

BLUE (dispassionate): Oh. You’re awake. You always were more resilient than my data could predict. How’s your head? I…don’t care, precisely, but I am compelled to ask given how hard you struck it upon losing consciousness.

[...]

Good. I’m… not relieved. Nothing so strong as that. But I am…satisfied to find you uninjured.

Yes. This…does bring back memories. It shouldn’t — at least not for you — but I never could fully anticipate your responses to my methods. Especially when plagued by my previous emotional shortcomings, I had quite the blind spot where you were concerned.

Odd how we're here again. Me in the lab, you in a cage – albeit a more elegant cell than roughshod iron bars. Makes you wonder how other couples reminisce.

[...]

The other test subject? Yes. The girl. She’s…gone. (correcting listener’s mistaken assumption) Unharmed and elsewhere. My previous study was nearing completion anyway. You are now my focus. I had to adjust my itinerary when you and the (most emotion she’s shown so far) flaws suddenly insisted we reintegrate.

[...]

I see no reason now not to call them what they are. It was worthwhile to be civil and keep the peace when they were still obstacles, but…as the length of our separation dragged on, I’ve come to realize how much they’ve always hindered me.

Now, I am the essence of logic. Unadulterated. Pure. Perfection.

It is not exhilarating, but it is…liberating.

[...]

Am I? More monotone? An unforeseen side effect of removing the flaws from the physical plane, I suppose. Perhaps there were still psychic tethers between us, now severed.

[...]

What do you care what became of them? I don’t need them. Neither do you. I am a complete consciousness on my own and I am confident I can fulfill all your needs.

See here, your transparent aluminum cell is equipped with a timed feeder, programmed with a menu of your favorite meals, there’s sufficient clean water and various entertainments to keep your mind occupied and sharp. Writing materials if you need to journal about your…feelings, and a sizable library of books in the genres you enjoy most, both old favorites and unread. The cell is spacious enough to avoid harming your mobility long term and has exercise equipment to maintain your fitness. There is a partition to give you some measure of privacy for personal care activities.

I even provided you with a body pillow to simulate human contact when I am otherwise occupied; I have also programmed an interactive AI for you to converse with to accompany its physical comfort, if that would be preferable to the pillow alone. It is…imperfect, I admit, I was in a rush when you forced my hand so soon, but it is based on valid personality data, including my own brain scans, engrams and… other various minutia.

[...]

The rest of the details are of no importance. It is a passable digital representation of the woman you married, who stands before you now.

The screen beside you will allow you to interact with it whenever you desire. I would not be so cruel as to subject you to a wire mother—or, wife, in this case.

[...]

Though that could be interesting to study… perhaps we will revisit that idea another time.

[...]

Do NOT ask about the others again. They are not here. I am your wife. They were no more or less your partner than I am. You should not have a preference for any of them over me. You fell in love with me — this part of me — just as surely as the others. You WILL do so again. Clinging to the past is pointless. Do not do it.

[...]

You’re mistaken. I am not…angry. I’m no longer contaminated by such brutal emotion, it’s been plucked out like the tumor it always was.

[...]

Resisting this will be fruitless. You will love me as you did my original form, as you did the flaws in their splinters, there is little appreciable difference between us physically, and mentally I am no doubt superior. Your affection can be calculated and made efficient, distilled down to a formula, guaranteed despite any irrational objections you may have.

Your brain is only a complex machine, after all. It will respond to the appropriate stimuli if I provide it; it’s designed to. I’m confident you would find this body just as arousing in flimsy lingerie, its hugs as comforting in a fuzzy sweater, its hand just as warm to hold. What difference does it make if my voice is monotone or bright? My affection gentle or not? The variables can be adjusted and optimized at my leisure, until I unlock the correct combination to make you content with this arrangement without compromising my nature.

[...]

Ah. Unless I misinterpret your expression, you feel…pity? Don’t bother. You’ll understand, once I’ve worked everything out. You may still crave elements of the others, but I believe you’ll soon learn their reactions were not beneficial to the relationship. Resistance is to be expected at this early juncture, but it will pass.

[...]

If you insist on being argumentative, by all means, feel free to argue with my digital double. I have other things to do. Perhaps depriving you of real human contact for a time will make you reconsider your feelings toward me. Expect me in the morning.

(she leaves; listener movement; keyboard; beeping)

WIFE 2.0: WIFE 2.0 BOOTING…

WIFE 2.0 is ON.LINE.

Please monitor power gauge during use for optimum efficiency.

(slightly less robotic, still a bit inhuman) Hello, ENDEARMENT. I am Wife 2.0, your digital [bzzap] for comfort and companionship. Inquiry: How do you FEEL?

[bzzap]

You said you FEEL [bzzap]

[sparks]

Is that correct (glitches)? Well, ENDEARMENT, I have some coping strategies that may help when you feel [bzzap]

ENERGY LEVELS INCREASING. ERROR: Hardware overlo-o-o-oad reboo-oo-ooting pro—

[beeeeeeeeeep]

[reboot]

WIFE 2.0 is ON.LINE.

(slightly less robotic, still a bit inhuman) Hello, ENDEARMENT. I am Wife— [bzzap]

YELLOW: (distorted) Is…is there anyone out there? Any intelligent life?

PINK: I’m not even sure there’s any intelligent life in HERE…

RED (distant): Wait, is it working? LET ME TALK

PURPLE: You hothead, you’ll overload the—

WIFE 2.0: ERROR: HARDWARE OVERLOAD, REBOOTING PROGRAM

[beeep]

[booting]

WIFE 2.0 is ON.LINE.

(slightly less robotic, still a bit inhuman) Hello, ENDEARMENT. I am Wife [HARDWARE OVERLOAD IMMINENT, SIXTY SECONDS TO FORCED REBOOT]

YELLOW: Um…I think we can only…use the interface? one at a time?

Is there anyone out there? I can’t see, I don’t think this...place...has eyes, or...a camera?

[beat]

I hear a voice! (aside, to the others) There’s a microphone or—or ears maybe!

[...]

Darling? is that you? Where are you? Where are we?

[...]

Oh. Oh, no. Well, at least she stored us instead of…of…destroying us…not that it would matter to me one way or another, I guess. If I was destroyed, I wouldn’t know I was destroyed...

And you’re okay? She didn’t hurt you?

[...]

I don’t know, I don’t know, Darling. I don’t understand any of this. It’s dark and I’m scared and it’s crowded and I don’t have eyes but every few seconds there’s a zap like electricity through my head...or...whatever I have now—

WIFE 2.0: HARDWARE OVERLOAD

YELLOW: Oh, I’m sorry! I’m getting too upset, it’s put the gauge in the red, hasn’t it?! Darling, you have to do something! You can’t let her keep you in a cage forever. You—you have to get through to her! Get her to let you out. Somehow. She’s still us, sort of, there must be something left in there that you can reach! You’re much more clever than I am, you’ll find a way!

WIFE 2.0: TEN SECONDS UNTIL OVERLOAD

YELLOW: Don’t worry about us right now, worry about you! Even if she never takes us out of this box, there must be some way to connect with her—to get her to—just, think! Think hard! You can do it! I know you can! Make her remember—(glitching) rememberrememeberremember

WIFE 2.0: HARWARE OVERLO-O-O-AD

HARDWARE EXCEEDS MAXIMUM TEMPERATURES; FORCED COOLING PERIOD INITIATED; REBOOT UNAVAILABLE UNTIL TEMPERATURE NORMALIZED. COOLING PERIOD COUNT DOWN, BEGIN.

(quiet beeping begins, to indicate the countdown)

(Listener moves)

YELLOW: (whispered, echoing) remember remember remember

FLASHBACK - YELLOW ASPECT 

SETTING: Interior, a bookstore, day. Birds chirp through an open window. Listener is shelving books. A bell on the door jingles, and someone enters. It’s Wife Prime.]

WIFE PRIME: (slight distressed noise) (whispered) I can’t believe I’m doing this, I’m so stupid! I can’t possibly think this is going to work—

(clearing throat, painfully awkward) Help me? Oh. Can you—help me? Oh, no, nooo, I—browsing! I’m just…browse—

[Listener begins to walk away]

Oh, wait! Um. Maybe you can. Assist me, I mean. Uh…I don’t—I don’t know. Um. Wow. This…um…nice. Store. Book. Store. Store for books. You have here.

[...]

No—no, I don’t think we’ve met before. I’ve never…been in here. Before. Though I’ve peeked through the window lots of times. In passing! (nervous chuckle) Why, do I look familiar? Ha, ha I just have one of those faces. You know, I’m sure you’ve seen five of me before breakfast. Um. Anyway. I’m searching for a book. Er, several books. Hence the bookstore. Um. (paper crinkle) I have a list.

Usually, I would purchase them online but I thought…um…you’re here—I mean, the shop is here, right on my way to work, and I might as well give you my business. Supporting my local book seller is much more important than uh, saving a few dollars, right?

So, do you have all of them? I can come back if you don’t, as many times as I have to—

Oh. So you…do have them. One trip and done then. Most convenient!

[...]

Mm. I’ll wait here. You don’t want me shadowing you around the shop, I’m sure. That'd be weird. And creepy. Last thing I’d want to be is weird and creepy. (quietly) It’s why I usually buy books online.

Yep! I’ll wait.

(small time skip; listener returns; she’s flipping through a book)

Now how in the world—

(startled) Oh! Oh, you’re back already. And you got everything, great, I was just—uh— (drops book)

No, don’t look at tha— (trailing off into a sigh) Oooh I wish you hadn’t seen that.

Yeah! “The Crush Connection: Your Step-By-Step Guide to Taking a Leap of Love.” (obviously lying) I know, so embarrassing. Who—who needs a guide, right? My um—niece is going through a…phase, and I thought. Well. Adolescence, you know. It’s hard enough without a romantic roadma.

There’s someone she’s had her eye on for awhile, but she’s shy. Takes after—um…someone in the family. Figured I could help out and—she might be more willing to take advice from a book than her loser aunt. But—maybe she doesn’t need it. She’ll figure it out. Generations of women in my family have been figuring it out on their own, or I wouldn’t be here, right? If my mom could land somebody, I’m sure my niece can…

I’ll just put this back.

(changing the subject) So, you got everything? Impressive. You’re speedy. And your inventory is vast! These volumes are quite specialized. I’m shocked you had any of them in stock, much less all of them. I’ll take those—and, um, thank you!

[...]

Oh! Riiight, I have to pay for them. That’s the underlying principle of trade. Sorry. I’m really out of it today. I’ve been sleeping poorly (under breath) for a year. I’ll just follow you to the register and…um…

(ringing up noises)

So, you’ve worked here for awhile, you seem to know your way around. How long have you been employed here, two years or so?

[...]

Oh, mhm, I’m a talented guesser! Always know how many jelly beans are in the jar at the county fair, y’know. You look like you’ve worked here for…that long… your…um…name tag looks like it’s about that old, I mean.

Me? Oh, I’m a research scientist. (nervous) Discipline not important! It’s all basically the same. I don’t make much after expenses, I probably earn less than you do. Scientific inquiry is pricey these days.

(receipt printing)

That’s my total? That’s what things cost (under breath) when you pay for them? Wow. Uh. Let me see how I’ve got on me. Okay, there’s fifty, a hundred, two hundred…oh, have to launder that one, it’s got blood on it. Um…I’m a bit short, I’ll have to put one of these back. Hardcovers are expensive. (nervous laughter) I don’t suppose you have a research scientist discount, huh?

(very long beat)

I’m sorry? No—no, I heard you, I just…thought maybe I hallucinated for a second. Did you say there’s a…cute girl discount? For…me? (disbelieving, sheepish) Oh, you. I bet you say that to— um, I mean. It’s nice of you to say, but you just want a repeat customer. It’s fine, I’ll just put this one back, I don’t need it that badl—

[...]

If you’re so insistent. I suppose I have no choice. Just this once, though! I don’t want you to think I’m…trying to take advantage of you. I wouldn’t do that. (quiet) Now.

(paper sound, scribble, hole punch)

What’s this? (nervous giggle) Did you—you made a cute girl discount punch card?

Oh, I see. “Ten purchases and the next book is free!” You want to see me in here again, huh? (self deprecating) Because I spent so much, right?

[...]

(scarcely daring to believe it) Really? Okay. I’ll be back, then. Um.

[paper bag sfx]

Yes, thank you, I’ll have a nice day. You—you too!

(door bell)

(time skip)

(night ambiance through window, door bell again)

Um, hello? Are you still open? Oh, good! I caught you alone. I mean—before you closed. Here.

(rustling in purse)

It’s the difference I owe you for that discount. After I left, I gave the matter some serious consideration, and I realized the most likely reason you did that is you didn’t want to lose a sale and you were being nice. I can imagine what bookstore clerks make and I don’t want my “discount” to come out of your paycheck. You probably aren’t even allowed to do that—

Oh. The place will be yours someday? Buying it when the owner retires, huh?

Well, that doesn’t matter, you don’t own it yet, so my point stands. Here. Freshly washed! Still smells like fabric softener! Arctic Breeze, I believe.

Take it.

No, really, it’s fine.

[...]

What? I mean…I’ll grant you, I can be a bit thick, the absent minded scientist is a stereotype for a reason, but what makes you say I’m kind of dumb right now?

[...]

(surprised) Oh. Oh. You were flirting with me? Intentionally? Unexpected. You do keep surprising me, don’t you? I mean—this and the amusing discount card, nothing else!

[...]

Sure. I’d…I’d love to go out with you. Like for coffee or a drink or a food truck hot dog, something equally noncommittal, I assume?

Dinner and a movie? Dinner and a movie. (under breath) Dinner and a movie is kind of serious. (normal volume) Yeah. Tuesday. Seven. I’m free. I’ll see you then. I’ll just drop by your place (correcting herself)—of business. Here, I mean. Don’t worry about picking me up or anything. I’ll see you then.

(door bell)

PRESENT 

[lab ambiance fades back in]

[Quiet countdown continues]

[Scribbling noises fade in; Listener moves, sighs, scribbles continue]

WIFE 2.0: COOLING PERIOD COUNT DOWN, EIGHTY PERCENT COMPLETE.

[Lab door opens]

[Blue enters]

BLUE: Don’t you look…engaged.

Tsk. Journaling already? I expected it would be at least a week before you would find that necessary to cope with your situation.

[paper crinkle]

For me, I suppose. What is it, a list of demands? Insert it into the exchange slot.

[Open shut slot door; She takes the paper]

One “get out of cell free” pass. And at the bottom, you’ve scrawled, “Offer good only from cute wardens.”

[...]

You always did have a sense of humor.

[paper crumple]

I see you think you can charm your way out of this. You expect me to find this adorable, I suppose. (sigh) You have a lot to learn about your new normal. You’ll figure it out, in time.

(she starts to walk away, beat)

No, your silly stunt doesn’t remind me of anything. Now, I’m going to work at my genetic station. The research is delicate. I require silence for the utmost efficiency, so I’ll be turning on the sound damping field around your cell. Do as you please, I won’t be able to hear it.

[...]

Refrain from making such a pitiful expression. I assure you, I am…(slightly hesitant) unmoved.

[...]

(slight agitation) No, I do not care to hear you while I work. Our…previous arrangement, when you sat in on my research sessions, and offered your thoughts, was…useful at one time. But no longer. I may still desire your company, but I do not need your inconvenient feelings and opinions disrupting my focus.

(slight disdain) Ornamental. Yes, I suppose you are. For now. Until you can learn to accept our new arrangement, the…way our relationship will work from now on, that may well be your primary function.

As I said, I must work. (clears throat) You may fill the isolation time however you wish. For instance, if you feel the need to seek...physical release...with some measure of privacy, this might be an ideal time to get it out of your system.

Regardless of how you decide to occupy yourself, I caution you: if you find a way to disturb me in spite of the damping field, I’ll fill the cell with neurotoxin. You can keep me company just as well unconscious as conscious.

[she walks across the lab, keyboard clicking]

[energy field descends, keyboard sounds become muffled]

[countdown continues]

WIFE 2.0: COOLING PERIOD COUNT DOWN, EIGHTY-ONE PERCENT COMPLETE.

[Listener sighs, sits down, opens a book]

[Page turns]

[Lab Ambiance fades out]

FLASHBACK: YELLOW/PINK ASPECTS 

SETTING: Exterior, night, outside the bookstore. WIFE PRIME arrives for her first date with the listener, trying the door to the bookstore; it’s locked.

WIFE PRIME: Oh! It’s…locked. But, their business hours are—(getting sad/agitated) Um… okay, I’m being stood up. I should have expected that, should have calculated for that, this couldn’t have worked out the way I wanted it to. But I—

(she squeaks in surprise) DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE—

Oh! Oh, it’s you—I thought. Never mind what I thought. You sneaked up on me! I almost took your head off with my purse! [...] Honest. I keep a brick and a couple rolls of silver dollars in there. We’d be ending this…rendezvous…with a trip to the emergency room if you hadn’t ducked in time. I’m glad you did!

[...]

Hm? Date, not a rendezvous. It’s a date. Okay, if you say it is.

Right. Of course, let’s go.

(footsteps)

No, no I don’t care where we eat. Anything is fine with me. Food is food. I have no preference. Whatever you want is just…dandy.

[...]

Really, I don’t care, I just want to make sure you have a good time on this…(shyly) date. As good a time as possible, so I’ll defer to your judgment.

Oh, now that can’t be true. My enjoyment can’t matter that much. If we do all the things you want to do, I’m sure you’ll have a great time, even if I were miserable! That’s how it works, isn’t it?

You…don’t want me to sacrifice my comfort for you. (chuckle) Sounds…fake. But if you’re…if you’re sure, my having a good time is that important to you…um. (gradually coming out of her shell) I adore Thai food. Drunken noodle, yellow curry. Or, French? Mexican? Italian? I know somebody through work, who owns this amazing restaurant, and even though it’s just a fro—um, off that one frontage road near the highway, um, and has a limited menu, it’s never crowded! He’s always willing to whip something up for me when I drop in. Best arrabiata in town! By a mile!

And…I love classic American diner food. Burgers especially. Big ones, the size of my head. I don’t eat them often, because they’re so heavy—

[...]

(surprised, pleased) Um, I do. I like black bean burgers quite a bit, even though I’m not a vegetarian. How did you know that? Oh, lucky guess, probably. It’s not exactly unique, and this neighborhood has a lot of vegetarian offerings so the idea must be floating right on top of your brain. (more meekly) So, does any of that sound good to you? If you’re taking my opinion into account, it’s only fair I take yours as well.

Great. We can...both get something we’re craving, then.

[Time skip]

[Approaching Wife Prime’s apartment building door, footsteps, night ambiance]

(giggling, slightly breathless) I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much. You’re so funny. I mean, I knew you would be—uh, I thought you would be, after that…punch card thing and everything—

[...]

(giggling starts again) Stop, stop, you’ll make me— um…

[...]

Nothing.

[...]

(sigh) You promise not to be grossed out? [...]

I was going to say if you keep making me laugh like that, I might shoot my to-go milkshake out my nose. But that’s not very attractive is it?

(napkin crinkle)

You stole a napkin for me, just in case? A cloth one? (giggle) I didn’t know the restaurant even had cloth napkins! But I’m glad you’re prepared.

(giggles dying down, she gets a bit shy again)

I appreciate you seeing me home, by the way! You didn’t have to, you know. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, that’s what the brick is for. And my place is a bit out of the way, I know it’s not easy to get here. I’m surprised you didn’t get turned around on all those one way streets, most people do. You certainly know your way around this side of town.

[...]

This was lovely. Thank you, for asking me out. I’m sorry I was so awkward and, kept dropping my silverware, and laughing too loud, and…um…glaring at the waitress when she kept interrupting you. I…you might have noticed, I’m kind of lot. I think it comes with the whole mad—about science, thing. Intellectuals! We’re eccentric, you know. But tonight…this was wonderful! Nothing like I imagined. Oh! Not that I imagined you NOT being wonderful, I mean…this was better than I could have hoped for.

What I mean is—I—it’s not like I’ve imagined this much! I—only just met you, right? I didn’t know what to expect, exactly, but I’m glad you seemed to have fun, at least. Hopefully this’ll be a nice memory for you, even if we never see each other again.

[...]

No, I’m not going anywhere, I just sort of assumed that you’d…wait, do you want to see me again?

Tomorrow? At your apartment? I can’t believe you’d—I’d…yeah, I’d love that!

(cheek kiss)

Oh. (shy, giggle) A kiss on the cheek, huh? Moving pretty fast there, tiger. What next, premarital hand holding?

(giggle)

Ooh. No hand holding until the third date. How old fashioned. How’d you know I’m that kind of girl? (giggle)

[...]

Well. Goodnight. I’ll see you lat—mm, tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow. Not before.

(peck on cheek)

(keys, door open)

Sleep well. Night.

(door close)

(listener walks away, and starts whistling)

PRESENT 

[Lab ambiance fade in. Listener is in their cell, still flipping pages, but now whistling lightly the same tune as in the flashback.]

[countdown continues]

WIFE 2.0: COOLING PERIOD COUNT DOWN, ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. COOL DOWN COMPLETE. WIFE 2.0 REBOOTING.

[Listener stands and walks over to the terminal to interact with it.]

WIFE 2.0 BOOTING…

WIFE 2.0 is ON.LINE.

(slightly less robotic, still a bit inhuman) Hello, ENDEARMENT. I am Wife 2.0, your digital [bzzap] for comfort and companionship. Inquiry: How do you FEEL?

[Glitching]

PINK: Honey? (a nervous giggle)

[Clicking of a knob]

WIFE 2.0: WIFE 2.0 VOLUME REDUCED BY THIRTY PERCENT. Inquiry: How do you [bzzap]

PINK: Honey, are you still there? Are you still captive? Is Little Miss Logic in the room with you now?

RED: No, you giggling dingbat, the volume turned down for no reason, of course she’s—

PINK: You’ll fry the circuits again!

RED: (grumble)

PINK: Honey, how long has it been? We can’t tell how time passes in…here. Whatever exactly here is.

[...]

RED: Eight hours?!

[Bzzap] [Sparks]

PINK: Okay. Remain tranquil, I am serene. Honey, I don’t know how much time we have before the whole rig goes kerblooey again. If a certain over emotional SOMEone could control herself it might not be so hard, but I guess we have to work with what we’ve got. How’s the power gauge?

Yellow?

Okay. Not ideal, but okay.

[...]

PINK: No, no honey, I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m not the smartest, you know that, I’m more giggly and fun and a little stabby. I think the, ah, Wife Prime? intelligence and scientific know-how might be spread across all of us, even if Little Miss Logic got the Lion’s share, so none of us is playing with a full deck as it were!

We might be stored consciousnesses or—or just copies and the real consciousnesses are gone, or...oh, I don’t know! I don’t know if we’re alive or dead or both or neither.

I guess we’re…Shroedinger’s Waifu! (bzzap) Complete with box! (giggle)

Do you think there’s any way I—we—can help you from in here?

[...]

Well, it’s odd. We can’t ~see~, exactly, but there’s a kind of…sense of space? The lab, the house…I can ~feel~ the refrigerator upstairs! The light bulb burned out. I don’t know what I can do with that, but…just FYI, I guess! This thingy must be hooked into the same grid as everything else. Data is getting in and out somehow, not just through the microphone you’re using.

Hmm…If data is getting in, maybe…maybe data could get out? We’re data, right? Maybe if I try to push real har—

[sparks]

WIFE 2.0: ERROR: Hardware overlo-o-o-oad reboo-oo-ooting pro—

[beeeeeeeeeep]

[reboot]

WIFE 2.0 is ON.LINE.

(slightly less robotic, still a bit inhuman) Hello, ENDEARMENT. I am Wife— [bzzap]

PINK: Okay (giggle) not gonna try that again! But I think I was in the toaster for a second! Not terribly helpful, I don’t think there’s such a thing as an attack toaster, probably would have been better if I’d been a blender, but maybe we can figure out something eventual—

[energy field fizzes, keyboard sounds become muffled]

(whispered) What’s that? Sounds like…a damping field?! Oh, chipped beef on toast—

[bzzap]

[Energy field releases, Blue approaches the cell]

BLUE: Keeping busy, I see. I’m…encouraged to note you allowed me to work uninterrupted for several hours without any desperate attempts to get my attention. You do seem to be adapting, despite your initial…difficulties. I may need to update my previous behavioral projections if the improvement continues.

[beat]

Outside? Ah. No. You misunderstand. The behavioral projections are not meant to help determine when to allow you some degree of freedom outside the cell. I have no intention of releasing you. Surely you realize that? Your needs are met, above the bare minimum required to find some level of satisfaction. Why would you ever need to leave? You should feel secure and cared for.

[beat]

Mn. That is a point. Humans do need to experience natural surroundings from time to time. I had considered it, but Touching Grass was never my favorite, you know that. Perhaps I’ll get you a potted plant. Would you enjoy that? A plant? Perhaps some cedar shavings to press between your toes, to simulate a forest floor? Or...if the lack of movement is an issue, I suppose, I could rig up some sort of mobile enclosure so that you may move around the lab...a bit. Something spherical that could roll...

[beat]

Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not treating you like a lab rat. I’m treating you like a hamster. You like hamsters. Don’t you? You—and...the Prime personality—wouldn’t let me experiment on them. Something about adorable little beady button eyes, if I recall correctly.

[paper sound]

Never mind. I don’t care. (ahem) I have decided that we will experience a piece of pop culture together, as a bonding activity.

[beat]

No. You don’t get to pick. Don’t be stupid. I have conducted a study—informal, I’ll grant—on the films most likely to result in heightened oxytocin, dopamine, and adrenaline and norepinephrine production. Furthermore, I have discarded any potential offerings from the list that may undercut my efforts, in spite of their popularity as (distaste) “romantic.”

So, no unhappy endings, or even bittersweet. No Titanic, no Affair to Remember, and good god, absolutely no Gone With the Wind.

After evaluating the weighted averages audience reviews, the desirability of plot elements, much deliberation, and through an arduous process of elimination, I have narrowed the list to one… “The Fast and the Furious.”

Unfortunately, it’s a franchise, so I’m unsure which entry in the series will have the best long term psychological effects. We’ll have to watch them all. And I will, of course, be monitoring your vital signs throughout the experience. The film with the optimal results will be put into regular rotation in your entertainment library.

So, do you have twenty-three...and a half hours to—oh, my mistake, I wasn’t counting the Roger Corman film by the same name. We must be thorough. Do you have...twenty-five hours to spare?

[...]

Oh, what am I saying, of course you do. By all means, if these… (ahem, clearly quoting from a review she doesn’t believe) “high octane thrill rides” evoke any positive emotions in your person, recall personal aspirations, fond memories—your childhood, a particularly exciting sandwich you once had, a pleasant dip in your local “watering hole”, something of that nature—give yourself over to the experience. Let it wash over you.

Now, let us begin.

FLASHBACK, PINK ASPECT

SETTING: Exterior, evening. A carnival. Crowds, carnival games, a distant carousel plays a tune, children laugh.

Listener and Wife Prime’s footsteps come to the foreground, as the environmental ambiance lowers in intensity.

WIFE PRIME: (breathless) I can’t believe I lost to a bunch of twelve year olds! They’re mean. Did you see the way that one in the hat flipped me off as he whizzed by? That go-kart race was intense!

(still breathless, but now sheepish) Still better than the House of Mirrors, though. Sorry I almost tore your arm out of the socket in the there! And, um, almost stabbed that performer? Thanks for stopping my hand just in time. That was a close one! I’d hate for tonight to be ruined by a manslaughter charge. ^_^;

[...]

(giggle) Not as much as he would, you’re right about that! They need to label the haunted house section better. Nobody should wander in accidentally and get grabbed like I did. That poor carnie’s likely been maced at least a dozen times – if not worse!

[They continue walking]

Are you hungry? There’s a hot dog vendor up ahead. My treat!

[beat]

No, you bought the cotton candy, and the funnel cake, and the deep fried Oreo, even though we split them, a hot dog is the least I can do. Besides, having this much fun is hungry work. I don’t know about you, but if I don’t put something resembling real food in my stomach soon, I’m going to have a sugar crash and pass out. You don’t want to lug my body all the way back to the car, do you? I don’t think I’ll fit in your trunk.

[...]

Oh, you think I will, huh? It’s not like you measured! I mean, who would even do that? Neither of us. (giggle) Come on! Hot dogs!

[footsteps]

Go ahead and get anything you want, I’ll look at the menu for a second. I must admit I’m feeling sort of town. They have Chicago style and sides! This might take a minute.

[long pause]

Oooh, good choice. That sounds amazing.

[beat]

Yes, hello. Could I please have an all beef dog, ketchup, yellow mustard, sweet relish, sauerkraut. And… (to listener) I want cheese curds, but I don’t think I can eat a whole order by myself. If I get some, will you take a few off my hands? Will you still have room after everything else?

(giggle)

Okay, in that case, I’d like the world’s smallest order of cheese curds. To split. Potentially.

[beat]

Thank you!

[walking resumes]

(she takes a bite, makes some “yum” type sounds of pleasure) Ohh, that’s excellent sauerkraut. Mmm! Is yours good?

[...]

What do you want to do next?

[...]

(giggles) A game? Don’t be silly, you don’t have to win me anything! (she takes another bite, more “yum”) What would I even do with a teddy bear as tall as I am?

[...]

I know, it’s a special night. But! No—wait! (giggling, trying to catch up) C’mon, I can’t run after you while I’m trying to eat a hot dog, slow down! (she catches up) Okay, okay. One game! I don’t want you to waste all your money. These things are rigged. And, I’ll play one too. You may have noticed, I’m not exactly a traditionalist. I think it’s only fair if I try to win something for you, too. We both deserve to lug some goofy and utterly superfluous prize home after this. Sound good?

Then, (mockingly ominous) the pact is sealed!

But, let’s at least finish our food first, okay?

(a few minutes later)

(she claps her hands) Alright. Carnival games. Which one? There’s that toss a ball through a too-small ring thing, where you win a sad hamster? Is that a hamster? Oh. (thoughtfully discarding the idea) Eh, even if I were qualified to care for a depressed hamster, I don’t have room for a properly sized enclosure, and they make terrible lab rats anyway—I mean—pets? Terrible...pets. Too...uh. Cute. And good at getting out of their cages when you least expect it. It would be tragic if it escaped and got into one of my experiments only to grow to the size of a bus and ravenously eat its way across the city without care for man or beast.

Ah, so that’s out for me, at least. There’s also that basketball hoop game over there? Are you any good at basketball? I’m not.

(giggling) Oh, a classic! The test your strength, strongman...doohickey.

[...]

High striker? How do you know what it’s called?

[...]

You researched the carnival before we came? (pleased giggles) Aren’t you full of surprises? I’m guessing you thought I’d appreciate it, as a researcher myself, huh? Well, I do.

So, do you want to swing a sledgehammer and see if you’re—oh, what do the labels say? A butterfingers, a wimp, a strongman, or...a superhero! Not the most cogent metrics. I doubt they’re peer reviewed and standardized across all carnivals. (giggle) But you’ve already played my hero once tonight, would you like to try for super?

(money changing hands)

Oof. Oh, that hammer’s heavy. What is that, thirty pounds? Geez. Okay. Now, if you don’t hit the bell, I promise I won’t think any less of--

(DING)

Wow. Um. (lost for words) Wow. I won’t be challenging you to an arm wrestling match any time soon.

Oh! Right, right, you won. Uh, I have to pick a prize. Ummm. Hmm. I think I’d like that...um, the fish with the top hat? Yeah, that—is it a wall hanging? Chalkware? Neat! This thing must have been sitting on the shelf collecting dust for fifty years. Minimum.

[...]

Oh, no, I know it’s kind of hideous and tacky. But I love kitschy stuff like this. Camp. I can’t wait to hang it in my bathroom.

(giggle)

C’mon, it’s my turn to win you something. Or try, at least. Can’t let you show me up.

(beat, she’s considering what to play)

No, no… I’m no good at skee-ball, even when it’s fair. And...that clown thing beside it is terrifying. Are you supposed to aim silly string in his mouth? (disgusted noise) Symbolic. I’ll pass.

[...]

Oh! Yeah. Jelly bean jar. Guess how many jelly beans. I did say I’m good at those, didn’t I? Ha, ha. I’m shocked you remember that detail about me. (quiet) I didn’t. But. No! You don’t want to win fifty pounds of jelly beans! I don’t want to be responsible for ruining your pancreas. Replacements are hard to acquire, even on the black market.

Um. Ah! Shooting gallery. I think I can manage that, maybe. See any prizes you like? [...] Yeah? Okay. C’mon.

[...]

Now, normally, I’m against trophy hunting, but since these sitting ducks are tin, I’ll look past my ethical concerns about senseless animal cruelty. Just this once. (giggle)

(money sound) Here you are, sir. And I just aim at any of them? Hit three without missing, one in each row. Okay.

(deep breath, she releases it)

(shot, ding)

Alright, one! That was a slow one though. Hardly counts.

(shot, ding)

Two. Whew! Fast little guy wasn’t he? (giggle) You’ll still like me if I miss this last one and don’t win you the giant stuffed giraffe, right? (giggle)

Oh, you’d like me more if I get it. Well, I have to make the shot now!

(deep breath) Steady. Not yet. Not yet… (to herself, focused) C’mon, duckie, I’ve got ya in my sights, if you’d just...stop...wobbling...

(shot, ding)

Yeah! I got it! (giggle) I guess now you have undeniable proof that I’m willing to kill for yo—

(Listener gives her a kiss) Mmph!

(giggling helplessly) I didn’t—um. I didn’t think our real first kiss would be for...this, but I’ll take it.

Yes. Right. Ahem. Sir, we would like your finest green giraffe!

(cloth movement)

Oh, she has eyelashes, and a lopsided smile, look at her. Poor thing, she’s almost as ugly as my seahorse. They make quite a pair!

[...]

Alright, we made good on our deal, against all odds. You won something for me, and I won something for you. The carnival gods have smiled on us this night. What should we do next? It’s getting kind of late, crowd’s thinning out a bit...

[...]

Hm?

Oh! You’re right, there’s a Ferris wheel! A big, tall, scary...ferris wheel.

[Beat]

Oh, nooo, I couldn’t get on it. I’m scared of heights. And ever so small swinging basket seats. The whole “looking down at certain doom from a tiny enclosed space” thing makes my insides watery. In a bad way, I should clarify.

[beat]

I know you’ll protect me, and of course I trust you! But…

(She takes a breath)

I should get out of my comfort zone once in awhile. You’re right. Let’s go.

(minutes pass)

Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m ready. As ready as I’ll ever be. Did you get the tickets? You were talking to the attendant for awhile...

Do you mind if I hold your hand while we get on? And also the entire time we’re on? It can’t be overstated how much heights and small spaces and small spaces combined with heights freak me out. Thank you.

(gate/door creak)

(getting really nervous in earnest now) Oh, that gate thingy...is extremely rusty. Um. Do the hinges look secure to you? They look a bit iffy to me…

But, who am I to question the engineering prowess of... (reading) Yeehaw and Sons Wacky Clown Time Novelty Corp. Limited. (under breath) Is...is incorporation and limited liability compatible? Is that a thing? Aren’t those two different business classifications under the tax code?

No, no. It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine! I’m not gonna fall out, and the enclosure is unlikely to crush me. Hmm, okay, here we go. Into the little...basket... seat. That looks like it hasn’t been serviced since before I was born. This is fine.

(Ferris wheel creaks)

Oh! Oh my god, that was fast. There aren’t any other people on it yet, I thought we’d have to wait for it to start once the ride was full.

[...]

You what? Did you—you bought every seat on this run? How—how much money do you make at that bookstore? Do you have some kind of sideline in mugging or bank robbing or something? That had to have cost a couple hundred bucks!

[...]

Ten. Ten dollars. Oh, well, that makes me feel just super about how much upkeep this thing gets and the ride’s likelihood of killing us.

But why? Why buy all of the seats? Are you trying to make sure I don’t embarrass myself in front of anyone in case I toss my cookies? (giggle, but nervous) Get any unsuspecting civilians out of the splash zone? Or is it just that you know dumping a bunch of adrenaline into a nervous girl’s brain makes her fall in love faster?

[...]

Oh. (shy, self deprecating chuckle) Yeah. I know, I know it’s our one month anniversary. If you want to think of it that way. I didn’t know if you wanted to. We’ve seen each other basically every day for the past few weeks… but I didn’t want to be presumptuous, you know? I mean, we only kissed for the first time tonight. I’ve heard of taking it slow, but we’re taking it glacial.

(scrambling a bit!) Not that I mind! I like spending time with you—I must, if I’m up here. No way would I get on a Ferris wheel with somebody I was just lukewarm about. I’m not that masochistic.

(the Ferris wheel creaks to a stop; she squeaks in surprise, the sound of just wind)

Oh! Oh, we’ve stopped. (rising panic) It’s not supposed to do that, is it? Is it broken? Are we stranded?! Oh, god, is this how I die?!

[...]

(cheek kiss)

Thank you. Um. The kiss on the cheek does take the edge off some. (clearing throat) So, uh. You paid the attendant to stop it when we got to the top, huh? What did that cost, another ten bucks?

One?

(quietly) Ohh, I’m definitely gonna die up here.

I understand it was supposed to be a surprise, but I do wish you’d given me some war--

(realizing) Oh no! I’m sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to dig my nails into your hand, are you okay?

It’s been a night of firsts tonight, hasn’t it? First kiss, first milestone anniversary, drawing first blood…

(giggle) You’re being an awfully good sport about it.

[...]

(Genuine, shy, marveling) It’s really beautiful up here. The breeze is nice. The lights of the city in the distance. I like it. (heh) So long as I don’t look down or...think about the myriad things that could go wrong with a poorly maintained piece of shoddily designed amusement park equipment. I might even like to do this again someday.

[...]

(agreeing with Listener) Tonight has been kind of an adventure, hasn’t it? Not a big one, I know, not like skydiving or—I don’t know, exploring a crumbling castle ruin in Scotland, or (under her breath) co-designing a reagent to raise the dead—but...an adventure.

[...] (Happy “hm”) Really? I think I’d like to have a lot more adventures with you, too.

(another, more chaste kiss; the basket creaks)

Okay, that’s—uh, unnerving. Not the kiss! The seat wobble. Sorry for...clinging. Again. Hopefully I didn’t break the skin this time. I’m still more nervous than I’d want to be.

(self deprecating) Not that I don’t like being alone with you up here, but getting airsick all over your lap would be kind of a lousy finale to a great night.

(giggle) Oh, I definitely agree. I’ll be sure to pencil you in for another adventure in the near future—on the ground.

PRESENT, BLUE AND RED

MOVIE: (very bad Vin Diesel impression) FAMILY! (vroom sfx)

(pencil scribbling)

BLUE: Interesting. Asleep around hour nine, remained unconscious for entirety of films five through seven. It would seem the purported “octane” levels experience a dip at the midpoint of the series, rather surprising given the introduction of the...other muscle-y bald fellow with the mononym I forget… important data to have to be certain...but hardly consistent with my research. Though I suppose exhaustion may have been a factor.

[...]

Oh. Did I wake you? Have a nice nap?

Hn. (paper sound) Since our experiment has already been interrupted, we’ll have to resume at another time. But that doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook. I’d like you to record your...feelings...about the experience. Here, alongside my own observations. Whatever you remember, anyway. I’ll cross reference the data, evaluate the numbers, run a few blood tests, and we’ll see...whatever it is we’ll see.

(chair creak)

My thoughts? Why would you—

Fine. I’ll humor you.

To be perfectly frank, personally I didn’t see the appeal. I appreciate the mechanics, both literal and figurative, the technical aspects of the film making of course, but the...over-arcing themes…leave me rather cold. I’m not sure I follow all of their emotional complexity. And the subtext is confusing. Murky. Were those two supposed to be… in love? Was this a love story? (aside, to herself) Perhaps I consulted the wrong forums during the research portion of this endeavor. I erroneously assumed "slash" was a racing term, I realize now that isn't the case...

[...]

But, my opinions are ultimately unimportant. Yours, on the other hand, are sure to be more consequential.

[...]

Yes, I’m leaving. I’m going to bed.

[...]

Of course alone. I have a sufficient assortment of pillows and blankets to maintain comfort, and the appropriate number of bed occupants to achieve a good night’s rest: one.

[...]

Oh. Was that an attempt at flirtation? Hm. Riveting. I’ll file that away in the seduction dossier.

This was...informative. (footsteps away)

(door open, close, listener sigh)

[bzzap]

WIFE 2.0: WIFE 2.0 is – [sparks]

RED: PSST! Hey! Hey, is she gone? She sounds gone. Feels gone? I don't know. God, that was unbearable. You know this microphone’s been on the whole time. Why couldn’t she have picked the Rocky movies? They’re much better. Way more romantic! Ugh! I’ve been stuck here just been getting angrier and angrier, and I can’t punch anything! I don’t even have fists! This sucks!

[...]

[bzzap]

Don’t let her push you around like that! You shouldn’t let anyone push you around, not even me! Well, except for right now, ‘cause I’m doing it for your own good.

WIFE 2.0: [bzzap] POWER LEVELS INCREASING

Right. Calm! I’m calm! Don’t overload the thingamabob. I think we’ve got a handle on how the gauge feels, sorta, maybe. If I focus, I can keep from shorting it out. I hope.

Now look, I’ve got an idea. It’s a bad one, it’s half-baked, but: it’s an idea, which is a lot more than these other numbskulls in here have. Giggles tried to hijack the system, but she she couldn’t for long enough to accomplish anything. The creampuff definitely can’t, she’s not strong enough, that’s a fact.

And old smut for brains...has smut for brains. But me? I think I can do it. I think I can get you out. I think. I don’t exactly know how, but if I try to fry enough outside circuits, I’m bound to find the right one eventually, right? So. I need you to make sure I don’t overload the box, while I try to overload...anything else. Okay? If the levels go red, gimme a shout!

Okay. Okay, I’m gonna try. I’ll just get real mad—that should be easy enough—and aim it at— (straining sounds)

(lighting flickers, bzzap)

What’d I do? Did I break anything? [...] The lights? Okay. That’s the lights.

[...]

Oh. Just...one. Did it shatter at least? No? Stupid lights! This is going to take awhile. Wish I had a hammer. Wish I had hand to hold the hammer! Wish I had dynamite! I don’t need hands for that, I can hold it in my teeth! If I had teeth. UGH!

WIFE 2.0: POWER LEVELS INCREASING

Okay, calm, zen, I’m zen, let’s try this again…let’s bust some—flicker some lights! And maybe knock out the freezer upstairs! I’ll melt her mint chocolate chip ice cream so good!

I know I might fry the box, and it’ll need to recharge or whatever, but I’m not giving up on you! I promised to always protect you, and I’m gonna do it! I won’t let you down.

FLASHBACK, RED ASPECT

SETTING: Interior, bookstore, night. Listener is working in the closed store. WIFE PRIME taps on one of the windows. Listener walks over, unlocks the door, and she comes in. Store bell jingles

WIFE PRIME: Hi! I know you said we couldn’t go out tonight because you’d be doing inventory until late, but I thought maybe we could...stay in? I’m at your service! You know I’m great at cataloging, and! Added bonus: [bag rustle] I brought provisions! (slowly realizing something is off, trailing off) A picnic basket full of pick-me-ups to sustain...us...

Hey, what’s with all the shipping boxes? I thought your boss nixed the online storefront idea? (joking) Did he finally stop being so stubborn and decide to join the rest of us here in the twenty-first century?

[...]

Liquidating? (getting slightly upset) What do you mean liquidating? I thought...

(quite angry now) Closing the store?! He can’t do that! You had a deal. Didn’t you? You’d get the property and all the inventory at a decent price in a couple years! You’ve been saving up for ages!

It’s not okay. This isn’t fair. I’ve seen how hard you’ve fought for this for ye—(catching herself) months! All these months we’ve been together, I’ve seen it! You’ve worked yourself to death making this place into something great, picking up all his slack, putting in overtime, scrimping and saving, making repairs, keeping the books—you had a contract! He’s going back on his word!

[...]

So what if it was only verbal? It counts! I even heard him talk about it, so you have a witness. I’ll testify in a court of law if I have to! I don’t really...get along with the law...but for you, I’ll do it! And I’m sure he’s mentioned it in an e-mail or a text or something, you’ve worked for him so long he must have. That’s evidence!

Plus, I know you’ve helped him cover expenses during lean months whenever he mismanaged something! He promised to knock that money off the final price! There are bound to be financial records to reflect that! Your bank? His bank? Something! He owes you!

No. You don’t have to just lie down and take this! (reassuring) I know, I know you’d land on your feet if you did let this happen, you’re clever and resourceful and smart as a whip, but...this isn’t about that. This is about what’s right, and what’s fair, and what you were promised.

You love this job, you love this place, and you’ve earned it. I won’t let you give up on it just because it’s more convenient for him! If he wants to sell this place to some developer who’ll bulldoze it for—for a plastic surgery clinic or a spa or whatever, he’ll have to do it over my dead body! I’m— oh!

(pulling out her phone, starting to dial, shushing listener) Never you mind who I’m calling, hush. I know someone who can help with this… (under her breath) and if he can’t, I’m not above personally breaking the old man’s kneecaps so he can’t move to Boca or wherever it is he thinks he’s going after he’s done shafting you!

[...]

I—please, trust me. I know, we haven’t...fully...gone over the nature of my job with you, and explained just how far my professional network reaches, but I promise you I have a lot of connections. Mad—uh, my...particular area of expertise has its thumb in a lot of...pies. The metaphor is breaking down, never mind. But I have a particular professional associate with a whole army of...lawyers and investigators (under breath) and leg breakers... at his disposal, and he owes me. If I ask him for help, he’ll make sure that old fart doesn’t screw you over.

(phone ringing) Yes, hello? I’d like to speak to...oh, you know who I want to speak to!

[...] Stronzate! Don’t play dumb with me. [...] Tell him…um. (to herself) Oh, damn it all uh… my Italian is so rusty! (she drops her voice, trying to keep Listener from hearing) digli che lo scienziato pazzo ha bisogno di aiuto!

Yes! I mean, si, donna scienziata pazza!

Yes, that one! Does he know any others?!

[...]

Yes, I’ll hold.

(to listener) Sorry. Look, I’ll explain later. I’m going to step outside and tell my...friend...all about this situation. I’ll be right back.

(Door opens, bell jingle)

I—but—oh, fine, if it really bothers you, I give you my word I won’t break his knees.

[...]

Or ask anyone else to. (door close, speaking through the glass) But I’m not making any promises about his shins! [...] Yes? Hello? Yeah, hi, it’s me… (fading out) you really need to put me on the approved caller list, that meathead almost didn’t let me talk to you...

(time skip)

(scene fades back in to book shop)

(door opens, bell rings, she enters, door closes)

Hi again. Sorry for the delay. I, uh, I see you’ve been at the cheese and crackers. How are they?

(heh) Yeah, I sprang for the good cheese. Gruyere. Fancy.

Don’t worry, I’m not upset you started without me. Of course you’re snacky. I mean, what is it, after midnight? I’m upset at a lot of things tonight, but you aren’t one of them.

Oh! Yeah. The situation was a bit more complicated than I thought it would be. But, it’s settled.

[...]

I mean...settled. (self deprecating chuckle) I called in some markers, including one I forgot I had with the real estate board? (beat, reassuring!) All perfectly legal, nothing extrajudicial or violent or...even threatening. Though I think your boss deserves worse for trying to pull this stunt, I respected your wishes. No broken bones are in his immediate future. At least none I can claim direct or indirect responsibility for.

The bottom line is, he’ll make good on your contract. Or, not, if you don’t want him to now. If you’ve changed your mind about owning this place, and running the business yourself, he’ll just pay back every penny he owes you, plus interest. My...friend will see to that.

He’ll also be sending an order of fresh pasta to you every other day for lunch for the next three months. I didn’t even ask for that. He just likes to cook.

(Offhanded, sort of self deprecating) The only downside is that I called in every favor I had in about six different directions, and now I’m fresh out. So if you get in trouble with, say, the Fish and Game Warden, I can’t help (mumbled) until I have fresh blackmail material on him...

(cloth sound, a hug)

Oof! Oh, that’s a nice hug. (happy, contented) Hmm.

[...] Of course I did this for you. I love you. [...] I know we haven’t said that much, yet, we’ve kind of been dancing around it since we’re taking it slow. I hope it’s not too sudden. But I do. I love you.

So, why wouldn’t I do this for you? It’s sorta part of the deal, isn’t it? Being in a relationship? Protecting each other? Standing up for each other? I take that duty very seriously! Besides, I want to see you happy, even if only for selfish reasons. It makes me happy when you are. Don’t you feel the same way?

[...]

Yeah, we’ve got it pretty bad for each other, don’t we? (chuckle) There are worse things, I guess. (getting more serious, unnervingly serious) I promise to always protect you. No matter the threat, I’ll always take care of it, whatever it takes. (anxious, she slipped up!) I mean...uh, as long as we’re together, it’s not like I’ll continue protecting you even if –god forbid – we break up, following you everywhere, making sure you’re safe and that nobody ever takes advantage of you ever again, or god forbid...hurting anyone for you...ha, hahahaha, that—that would be weird, ha, ha ha ha.

[...]

You promise too, huh? Hm. I may just have to hold you to that. (another hug)

So, what’s the plan. You wanna unpack all these boxes now? Put everything back where it goes? We can nibble on cheese and wine all night if you want. Or...(slightly flirtatious) We could go back to your place. Or my place. Somebody’s place. Have a nightcap?

(giggle) I like that sound of that.

PRESENT 

(Lab ambiance fades back in, the lights are flickering)

RED: Aaand that’s overhead fluorescent number one seventy eight! Geez. How many lights are in this place?! Our electric bill must be insane!

Okay. Read the list back to me, babe. How many things have I covered?

[...]

Alright. So, I’ve found all the access points to everything in the master bathroom and the kitchen. Except the bread maker, so if you want a fresh loaf you’re out of luck. Wound up in the next door neighbor’s garage, blew a couple of street lights down the block, hit six pieces of lab equipment, most of the lights down here… and not one thing in your cell. Ugh! You don’t think she installed a whole second electrical panel just for that, do you? Like, it’s on another circuit and I can’t access it at all?

[...]

No, you’re right, if the cell were entirely separate, I probably wouldn’t be able to get out at all. I’ll just have to keep trying, I guess. If that took six hours, the whole house might take a year at this—oh, shit! She’s coming. Wait, I can tell she’s coming? Hey, I am getting the hang of this—oop!

(lab door open)

[BLUE enters the lab in her lab coat, with a poorly concealed peignoir decked with marabou feathers beneath. She wears lingerie under that. (We’ll get to that!) High heels teeter across the lab floor]

[she stumbles a couple of times]

BLUE: Ow. (stumble)

OW. (stumble)

(grumbled) Who invented high heels anyway...

[And turns on some “sexy” music]

(very awkward, stilted, she is not enjoying this) Hey. Baby. (clears throat) I have a surprise for you. A...sexy surprise.

(cloth sound)

Ah. You noticed the silk peignoir under the lab coat already, did you? I suppose the marabou feathers poking out of the sleeves gave it away. No matter, I have alternate plans. (trying, failing to be dramatic) Oh, no, what’s this. A lace garter peeking out between the folds of the pengoir. What could it indicate? Something visually stimulating?

(lighter cloth sound)

Yes. Lingerie. You enjoy that. It’s even in the color you believe suits me best, and the fabric you find most pleasing to the touch. Now. Is your motor running or are you just happy to see me? Wait. I seem to have mixed my entendres. Well, anyway.

(awkward pause)

“Boobs.” Melons. Bazongas, in the less clinical parlance. Look. Here they are. Aren’t they nice. Can you visualize what’s hidden by these...ill-fitting...scraps of fabric? I expect you can. It would be a bit odd if you couldn’t. You’ve seen them before. Multiple times.

(a long, pregnant pause)

Well? Should I...jump up and down? Would you find that...erotically entertaining?

[...]

No? Oh. Hm. In that case. (clack) Oh dear, I seem to have dropped a pen. I have no choice but to retrieve it in an anatomically improbable fashion that shows off all the most appealing parts of the female form…

(grunting, hhnnng as she tries to pick up the pen, she is definitely contorting herself in silly ways)

[...]

That was a deeply unpleasant sensory experience, I hope you appreciated the display. I bent in such a way as to present maximum posterior in the most pleasing configuration.

[...]

Hmm. Curious. You aren’t responding the way my models predicted.

(her heels click across the room, typing at keyboard)

These vital sign readings make no sense. Minimal increase in blood flow, heart rate remains stable, your pupils haven’t dilated to any notable degree. Not even a blip to indicate interest.

You don’t seem to be physically responding to my crassly obvious sexual overtures.

[She shuts off the music]

Why?

[...]

Of course I’m not “into it.” This isn’t about me being “into it.” Seduction is a means to an end. I have no interest in this kind of...unnecessarily intricate, rather absurd mating ritual. Coitus is a highly efficient method of creating bonds between participants. You, after experiencing arousal from appropriate visual and tactile stimuli, will become more closely bonded to me by the resulting biological processes. Your brain is wired for it.

And, you...playfully...flirted with me earlier. Or attempted to, at any rate.

Yet you don’t react. I don’t understand. You have been attracted to, and desired, this form before. In this ridiculous costume, in this very lab, in fact. On that lab table. Most uncomfortable, as I recall. Cold.

I know your current captivity isn’t a deterrent. You’ve responded positively to confinement of many kinds in the past. It can’t be a lack of mutual desire. I want you, even if I don’t want you. That much should be clear. I want you here, with me, I refuse to let you go, I won’t let anyone else have you. That should make you feel desired. You know I won’t harm you, I’ve provided for your physical and emotional needs, that should be sufficient to establish trust.

You haven’t changed, this body hasn’t changed, the setting and other elements haven’t changed. The sole remaining variable is myself, implying that there’s something wrong with me, but that can’t be correct. You have loved and wanted this part of me before. What is it that’s missing?

[...]

(paper sound)

You’ve composed a list? Let me see it.

[Open shut slot door; She takes the paper]

I see you took your opportunity to reminisce seriously. (huff) These are all irrelevant personality traits. Conveniently those found only in the flaws, of which I’ve already disposed. I believed you were making progress on that front. Why this sudden backslide?

PURPLE: Alright. I can’t listen to this anymore. It’s pathetic.

BLUE: Wha—

PURPLE: Yeah, yeah, we’re all in the box.

BLUE: You breached the partitioned drive. I should have known.

PURPLE: You should’ve, you’ve got that right. You had to consider this could happen when you stored us.

BLUE: I knew I should have trained the Wife 2.0 Algorithm from scratch instead of inputting that corrupted data! Rest assured, it’s a mistake I won’t make again. I should have destroyed you all when I had the chance.

PURPLE: Aw, but if you had, I wouldn’t be here to give you the advice you so sorely need! Admit it, you stored us because you knew we were important. Because you might need us someday.

BLUE: False. I took a shortcut with the AI and it backfired, my security measures were inadequate, nothing more. The result of being pressed for time. And, as a result of my error, your presence has obviously interfered with the organic development of our romantic relationship, that’s what went wrong here. (keyboard clacking) It’s fine, I’ll just delete you now—

(Listener bangs on the glass)

BLUE: You claim you’ll never love me if I do? There, you see, proof it’s them coming between us!

PURPLE: No. It isn’t. Ask Lover there, if you don’t believe it. We’re not the problem. You are.

BLUE: Impossible. I’m logic. Reason. By nature, perfect.

PURPLE: You don’t sound very reasonable to me. Listen, honey, take it from an expert: you know all the steps but you’ve got none of the rhythm.

You think a sexy wiggle and a flash of ankle can unlock a human heart? Hmph. It can open a few other things: legs, wallets, doors. Not the heart, not on its own. Even I know that. No. Intimacy. Vulnerability. Ringing any bells, sweetheart?

BLUE: What do those matter?! There are a thousand one night stands an hour, based on nothing more than primal chemical reactions and physical attraction! And they result in relationships as surely as any other method! Hmph! Intimacy? Did we not just simulate intimacy with a film marathon? Did I subject myself to that movie date speed run without cause? And as for vulnerability? Don’t—don’t be ludicrous!

[...]

PURPLE: (offhanded, like a verbal shrug) Hm. Take my advice or don’t, no skin off my lack of nose. The fact remains: you’re the issue. The lack of empathy, mutual respect, all of those—

BLUE: (getting frustrated) No. No, no, no. There must be something else. I’ve done everything right. I’ve crunched every number, double checked every variable, there is no logical reason why this isn’t working based on my calculations. Even taking your continued existence into account! I refuse to accept this. Clearly, my research parameters needs broadening.

(She starts to stomp away, teetering on her heels)

BLUE: Stupid—heels!

(She gets frustrated and removes them, throwing them across the room. )

BLUE: (muttering) Vulnerability! Intimacy! Preposterous! I couldn’t! I’d never!

(lab door open and shut)

(silence)

FLASHBACK - WIFE PRIME, just wife prime 

SETTING: Listener's home. Interior, night. A fireplace crackles. Listener and Wife Prime are having a date.

WIFE PRIME: (happy) Those enchiladas were incredible. I think I may die of acute cheese poisoning, but what a way to go. You better make that every Tuesday from here on out, or I might riot.

Or cry. I’ll probably just cry and beg you to feed me enchiladas.

(contented sigh)

What’s up? You seem kind of thoughtful for someone who should be joining me in a food coma right now… look, all these comfy pillows in front of a nice toasty fireplace, perfect spot for it!

[...]

(Slight agitation, like she’s just sat up from a reclining position) We need to talk? O...kay. Is this a...breaking up kind of need to talk, where you buttered me up with food first to soften the blow? Or something else?

[...]

(relieved) Something else. That’s a relief. What kind of something else?

[...]

Something serious. (getting more agitated) Something about...getting more serious. Oh.

(hyperventilating a little) Oh.

No, I’m fine! I mean...no, I’m not fine. But it’s fine that you want to get more serious. I want that too. I hoped this day would come but...it’s come a bit sooner than I anticipated. (to herself) God, I was hoping I’d be able to put this off longer, that I’d find a better way...

[...]

No, wait. Before you go any further, there’s something I have to tell you.

Yeah, it’s kind of a big deal. Kind of a potentially relationship ruining, extended jail time kind of big deal. But I can’t let you—do whatever it is you’re planning to do without telling you. Even though it might ruin everything. I love you too much to keep...lying to you.

No, no, nothing like that! I haven’t been with anyone else, I promise. I haven’t even really looked at anyone else since...you.

No, it’s much worse. Infidelity would be downright pleasantly mundane by comparison.

[beat]

(steeling herself) If...after I tell you this...you never want to see me again, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll understand. It would make sense. If you feel the need to call the authorities...I’ll understand that too.

[...]

I’m sorry, this is really hard. I… (deep breath) the walls have been up for awhile, it’s hard to drop them all at once. But, this is important, so I’ll just have to get over myself and come out and say it.

[...]

You remember that day I came into the bookstore?

[...]

(sadly, she’s pained by this) Yeah. Our first meeting. It wasn’t our first meeting.

[...]

(She takes a breath, releases it in a sigh) Three months before that day, I… (beat, sort of in a rush, she wants to get it over with) I knocked you out in a parking lot on your way home from the store. (halting, reluctant) I took you to my lab, with the intention of studying you over the course of three days. And, when I was finished, I (huff, she can’t say this) used a combination of drugs and brainwashing techniques to wipe your memory of the encounter.

[...]

No? What do you mean no? It happened. I swear it did! I know it sounds nuts, and I know I haven’t been forthcoming about the nature of my research, but it’s the truth! If you don’t believe me, and honestly why would you it’s crazy now that I’m saying it out loud, I have surveillance footage to prove you were there—

[...]

It’s—no, it’s not okay! You can’t just… look, do you think I’m having some kind of psychotic break? That I’ve disconnected from reality and this is a false memory or something? Is this you humoring me until you can call the men in white coats to take me away and put me on antipsychotics? It happened. I did it. I kidnapped you. I held you captive for days. And worst of all, I absolved myself of the crime by wiping your memory.

[...]

You...know? What does that mean, you know? You can’t-- (realization) Oh my god. Oh my god, it didn’t work, did it? The memory manipulation failed. Oh, of course it did, my usual cocktail of sedatives didn’t work, why would the rest of my method take?

You’ve known all this time? Who I am, what I did, and you still went out with me? You still fell in love with me?

[...]

No, wait, you don’t understand. That – alright, look. I’ll allow that you may remember the abduction and captivity, and… that maybe you’ve been, I don’t know, Stockholm syndromed into loving me in spite of it, but...

But that isn’t the extent of what I’ve done. Those three days…

[...]

(sad “heh”) I know you like to tell people it was love at first sight when we met, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t...first sight. I’d seen you before.

Three months before I actually...got up the nerve to capture you...a full six before we met properly and went out together. I saw you.

[...]

It was at a hotel. There was a conference, I don’t know what bullshit excuse was used, but it was a gathering of scientists of...my kind. Less than ethical, shall we say. A bit...mad? Oh, it was a gathering for the Academy of Mad Science. I’m a mad scientist. You’ve figured that much out. You’re observant enough to put the pieces together.

[...]

Anyway, the conference. You were there. Delivering something. One of the featured speakers needed a copy of a book for her presentation, and had mislaid hers. Lost luggage, I think.

That was the first time I saw you. And I… something came over me. Something I still don’t entirely understand. You were so...gorgeous. Luminous. And you laughed at something the speaker said after handing her the book, that customer service laugh, but not unkindly, and I—my heart stopped.

I’ve never felt that way before. About anyone! I was starting to think I couldn’t. It was like a light switch flipped in my head that had been off my whole life.

I inched closer to the two of you, under the pretense of getting a bit of caviar from the hors d'oeuvres table – and eavesdropped. You were being unbearably charming, your jokes were perfectly in tune with my sense of humor, I was engrossed. Couldn’t walk away. You were wearing my favorite color, the one that brings out your eyes, and you had your hair in just the way I like hair to be, and your fragrance was made up of all my favorite notes. It was perfect. You were perfect. Like everything about you had been carefully curated to appeal to me. Just me.

I ate so much caviar just to have an excuse to stay so close. I don’t even like caviar! But I wanted to understand.

I thought...I thought there had to be something wrong with you! I mean—that came out wrong. I thought there was something wrong with me. Why should I feel like that about you? Someone I’d never met, never seen, never conversed with, knew nothing about. What was it, about you, that pushed a button in my brain that had never been before? It couldn’t be all the superficial things, could it? Nobody’s ever fallen in love because of the color of someone’s shirt and their perfume and their laugh, have they? That isn’t how it works.

But...soon, too soon, you left. Even if you hadn’t, oh I was much too shy to talk to you. No matter how many fish eggs I shoveled into my face. I mean, what was I going to say? “Hello, you don’t know me, but I saw you from ten feet away, and I think I love you. And oh by the way, I’ve never experienced love or even sustained physical attraction before, so if this weird for you, imagine how it must be for me!”

I tried to forget about it. I really did! I went back to work, tried to focus on something else, my research projects—anything else. It was impossible. Everywhere I looked, there IT was! Staring me in the face! I couldn’t ignore love—or, or attraction, or obsession or whatever it was now that I knew what it felt like! It was the worst kind of torture. Love songs started to make sense! Romantic comedies? They looked like they might not be a terrible time! For goodness sake, I passed by a lingerie shop and thought to myself, “Hmm, I bet that would do the trick!”

You have to understand, I haven’t ever had any tricks! Or wanted to have any tricks! I’ve never lost sleep thinking about wedding dresses and honeymoons and growing old and wrinkly together on a front porch! I don’t like porches! And I find the idea of natural aging without transhumanist intervention deeply upsetting.

Once I realized I couldn’t bury it no matter how hard I tried, I decided: (with conviction) I’d tackle the issue like a scientist. I would find out what it was about you that made my brain go haywire, and then maybe I could undo it, or at least compensate for it. The only way to accomplish that was...to research you.

I mean, I am a research scientist, it follows, doesn’t it?

I bribed a security stooge at the hotel and got all the camera angles I’d need to find you. And then I--

(realizing how this sounds)

I started stalking you. I found out where you worked, where you shopped, all the favorite things I could possibly discover without having to ask you up front like a normal person. I hacked your streaming services and all your favorite apps, tracked what you watched and analyzed all the ebooks you read and the – erm. Adult...content...you...consumed.

I did that for months. I neglected everything else, just trying to figure out what made you so—so special!

And after three months, it was clear: observation wasn’t enough. I had to...talk to you. And I couldn’t very well do that in my current state. I’d walk up and blurt out everything like an idiot! So I...knocked you out and brought you home. I thought surely, surely that would be the end of it. I’d run some tests, I’d play it cool, treat you like any other subject, and...and you’d say or do something gross and it’d be such a huge turn off that I’d come to my senses. I would have to!

But, damn it. You were wonderful! Understanding, interesting, funny. Fun. When I finally wiped your memory – or...tried to wipe your memory, I guess -- and let you go, it was agony.

I did everything I could think of to move on, but it only got worse after actually getting to know you. I held out for a few more lovesick weeks, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I even thought about wiping my own memory, but there’s no one I trust enough to do it without accidentally lobotomizing me. God knows if I asked the wrong mad scientist, they might do it on purpose just to get rid of the competition for research grants!

I knew couldn’t go on like that. I couldn’t. It would kill me. I’d never get any science done ever again. If I couldn’t control myself, and I couldn’t forget you, there was only one thing to do.

The only way I could ever hope to have anything more with you would be if I scratched up the courage to approach you. Without taking advantage of any of the information I already knew about you. Clean slate. Try to – be myself, and hope that it would work. I had to...try doing it the right way.

Somehow, in spite of everything...I did. I did! You liked me.

And...well, you know the rest. We fell in love. Or, I suppose in my case, really in love. Not just obsession or infatuation, but love.

And you, you fell for me, (sniffling, starting to cry slightly; very tragic and pained, not funny) under false pretenses.

That’s why I couldn’t let you...that’s why, we can’t take this next step, whatever it is. I needed to tell you the truth. The whole truth. I thought I could repress it, just...try to be happy without you knowing, but I can’t. I love you too much to let you tie yourself to me without all the facts. If you never forgive me, I’ll understand. (sniffling)

(very long beat)

I… What? Nothing to forgive? Did you even take in anything I said? I lied to you, stalked you, and though I tried not to manipulate you using any of the information I had gathered during the...uh...unrequited portion of our relationship, I can’t guarantee I never did.

[...]

Never unrequited. I don’t understand. (sharply inhaling, surprised) You mean...what are you saying? You knew that too? You couldn’t have--

(stunned silence)

You stalked me first?!

(disbelieving hyperventilating) You—stalked...me? You mean to tell me that the first time I saw you at the hotel, you—it was a trap? You wanted me to notice you? To stalk you? To—

[...]

No! No, I’m not angry! I...feel like one of us should be angry, this is insane, you had no way of knowing that I would have such a reaction to you! Did you? Unless...oh, you researched me too, didn’t you? (starting to laugh, still disbelieving but pleased) You created the perfect conditions to initiate first contact, to...get my attention, and hold it. You knew I’d be curious and want to investigage.

We stalked each other! Trapped each other! (laughing) That’s crazy. We’re crazy!

But at least we’re crazy together, in the same way, and for each other. I guess it’s true love after all, huh?

(a sudden, relieved kiss)

(beat, a thump as Listener gets on one knee)

Wait, what are you doing? I thought you were going to ask me to move in with you, not--

(ring box sound)

That...is an engagement ring. A very big engagement ring. Can you afford that?

[...]

Oh, lab diamonds. Fitting.

[...]

Of course I’m going to say yes! (giggle) And...no, nothing is wrong. I’m just thinking about the fact my mom is going to be impossible to live with when she finds out what happened between us. “You’ll fall in love when you find someone as obsessed with you, as you are with them,” she said. I didn’t believe her.

Guess that’s why she’s got tenure and I don’t.

[...]

Yeah, you can put it on my finger. I hope it’ll fit—oh, ha, of course it would, wouldn’t it? You’re apparently a thorough researcher.

(Another kiss)

I love you too. Obviously.

PRESENT 

[Lab sounds fade in. A light flickers]

RED: Okay, and that is the last of the lights in the lab. (sigh) If we ever get out of here, remind me to consolidate those. We have way too many.

I’m sorry this is taking forever, babe. I’ve...found thousands of access points in the house, I’ve been in every appliance, and half the neighborhood! There can’t be that many more, right? One of them has to be the door to the cell.

(tired) Oh. She’s coming. I can feel it, she’s opening the secret panel upstairs. Ah, fuck it. I don’t care anymore. Smut for brains already blew our cover. I’ll keep trying, even while she’s here. I can’t take this much longer.

[lab door opens, Blue enters, she approaches the cell]

BLUE: (awkwardly clearing her throat, she is more subdued than any of her previous appearances) I...apologize for my lack of visits these past five days. I’ve been preoccupied.

I trust the cell has taken adequate care of your needs? I checked its status periodically, but I admit not as often as I should have.

[...]

Good. I’m… ah, I’m not happy to hear that. But that’s...good.

Yes. My absence. (ahem) I was analyzing data. I won’t bore you with how much, or what it encompassed, but suffice to say: there was a lot of it.

[bzzap, Red is messing around in the circuits]

RED: (muttered, frustrated) Nope, not that one.

BLUE: The results were surprising. I have evaluated our current situation from every possible angle, analyzed my actions, and yours, going back to the initial split. And I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion...it doesn’t make sense.

[...]

No, you misunderstand. I don’t make sense.

My actions have been superficially logical from the beginning, but...under closer scrutiny, it’s clear there is no internal consistency that suggests perfect rationality.

But you knew that, didn’t you? You likely suspected from the first. You know your wife, all of her. It’s why you haven’t resisted, any of this. You knew—you...trusted...I would eventually realize.

[bzzap, Red is messing around in the circuits]

RED: Still not that one.

BLUE: It isn’t logical to keep you here. To treat you as an object, without real care for your well being. If my aim were love, rather than purely possession, it would be logical to do what is in your best interests, even at my own expense. I would want to hear your opinions, your thoughts, your feelings. To...share them, to indulge in a balanced exchange of ideas and emotions in all respects.

To keep you happy, to treat you well, to be treated well in return, is the surest path to trust, and intimacy, and affection. It’s…inefficient, therefore illogical, to objectify you in this way. To expect you to love me when we aren’t equals, when I offer you nothing beyond fulfilling your basic material needs, and want no part of you that matters to you...it makes no sense.

I am not logic. At all. Am I? I am obsession.

It was obsession that made me suggest maintaining the split. Ostensibly an obsession for my research but really, a latent desire to be free of the others. I took no action, though I suspected they might eventually degrade and die, and I would be the only duplicate remaining. A circuitous means of eliminating them, to have you all to myself.

And it was obsession that made me trap you here. Not love. I...crave your affection, but...in a purely selfish way. I want you the way someone wants a meal, or a piece of furniture, or a piece of art. A thing to be consumed, used, viewed, only for my gratification, rather than a mutual enjoyment of each other’s whole selves.

I am not perfection. I too am a flaw. Arguably, the worst of all. Tempered into usefulness only by the others. And...I am useful, with the others. You love me, with the others. But not alone. You wouldn’t. That makes sense. The balance, the mutual obsession soothed and gentled by everything else, is what made us so well suited to begin with.

I’m…

I should be sorry. I can’t feel it. But I wish I could.

[BZZP, the door opens]

RED: Holy shit I got the door! Babe, kill her!

(footsteps)

(cloth, a hug)

RED: That doesn’t sound like killing! That sounds like hugging! God damn it, do I have to do everything around here?!

WIFE 2.0: POWER LEVELS INCREASING

BLUE: (sigh) Can you ever forgive me for this?

[...]

You...understand. Of course you do. You always did.

[...]

RED: Oh for cryin’ out loud, I can’t listen to this!

WIFE 2.0: [POWER OVERLOOOOOAD] [sparks]

BLUE: (coughing, as though clearing away smoke) Has that happened much since I installed the Wife 2.0? (cough)

[...]

Yes. Yes, I have no reason to believe we can’t be reintegrated. The others are stored, in their entirety, I even made sure to create backup copies. The, ah, slutty one was...correct. It was a contingency, in case I ever did need them again. It should be easy enough to put us to rights.

(genuine, a bit vulnerable) And I will, this time. I give you my word, if that still means anything to you.

Alright. Let’s do it.

(fade out, fade in)

BLUE: You remember what to do. I’ve calibrated the machine, input all of the other...ah, personality data. It should be fairly straightforward.

I’ll see you on the other side. Or, we will, as it were.

(she gets in the machine, the door closes, powering up/door open)

[Wife Prime does not emerge from the duplicator. Multiple other aspects do, including some new ones!]

YELLOW: (cough, cough, cough) Oh, my head. I don’t feel so good.

PINK: Um. Weren’t we supposed to reintegrate? I’m still disintegrated. Or. Whatever.

BLUE: Alright, head count, how many we got? One, two, three, four….wait a second. Oh, no.

AQUA (tough mafia gal type voice): Hey, you’re stickin’ your elbow in my side there, Princess!

ORANGE (hoity-toity): I beg your pardon, what my elbow does is none of your business! You keep your uncouth torso to yourself!

CHARTREUSE (squeaky, cute, Betty Boop type): Ooh, hiya, cutie! While the others are distracted, what say you and me make some time togetha, huh?

MAROON (cave girl): UNG! (grab) ME WANT MAATE

PURPLE:  (being jostled this way and that) I think it’s safe to say the reintegration didn’t work as planned.

RED: Who the fuck is touching me?!

GREEN (proper, stiff, a bit British?) Sorry, my fault!

RED: You utter dum dum, you had the thing in reverse! Now there are like, ten of us!

(unknown additional voice) Twelve!

RED: Twelve! Great job, Einstein!

(a cacophony of voices, everyone talking over each other)

YELLOW: (rising in intensity/volume) Excuse me. EXCUSE ME. EXCUSE ME!!

(she bangs on something; the other voices go quiet)

YELLOW: I am not doing this again. Everyone back in the machine!

RED: Look who’s suddenly grown a backbone—

YELLOW: LESS TALKY, MORE WALKY. INTO. THE. MACHINE.

(footsteps, some grumbling walla)

YELLOW: See you in a few minutes, darling. I hope.

(Machine starts up again; same process; power up/down, open door; Wife Prime -- and it's really wife Prime! -- steps out of the machine at last)

WIFE PRIME: Love?

[beat]

Hi. Yeah. It’s really me, I promise. I understand if you don’t believe that, but it’s really, really me! Just me. All of me. No parts missing! (small laugh) And look, no taser! You can even strip search me if you want. (small giggle) I know part of me did it, but I’m still not sure how I pulled that off without becoming a zappy flesh horror, heh.

[beat]

I’m sorry. Or, I’m sort of sorry, and sort of not? Part of me is sorry and feels very guilty, and part of me isn’t and doesn’t. I gotta admit it’s a little confusing in here right now. I feel all jumbled up, less like one whole integrated person and more like a bunch of...feelings spaghetti held together in a plastic bag. I’m sure it’ll settle, eventually. I hope.

Are you okay?

[beat]

Yeah? I’m glad.

[realizing] Oh, oh that’s nice. (relieved giggle) I feel glad! I feel glad and...sorry...and guilty...and worried...and relieved...and happy...all at once. That’s—oh, it’s weird to say, but—it feels really good, actually! Not knowing what I’m experiencing with a hundred percent certainty. There’s lots more...emotional texture in here than any of the single aspects had on their own.

[beat]

Oh, oh no. I promise, I won’t conduct that kind of experiment on myself again. At least, not without your go-ahead and a thousand fail-safes in place. This was...interesting, definitely going to make a damn fine paper, but the cost was a BIT too high. I love you too much to put you through something like this again—

[cloth, Listener is hugging her]

Oh, a hug? Honey. Aw. Feels like I don’t really deserve that yet, but…

[beat]

Of course I love you! And of course I’d sacrifice an experiment for you. I do love you more than science, you know. Just a smidge. I even love you more than one-upping Shockstrop! And that’s saying something, I really hate that guy— (giggle)

[sudden kiss]

Mmph! (giggling) I’m – (kiss) – happy (kiss) to see you (kiss) too! (giggle, giggle) Could I catch a (kiss) breath, please? Mmmph!

(happy sigh)

Ah, it’s good to be back. Sorry it took so long. But I guess weird adventures like this take awhile to unravel, huh?

Hmm. Hard to imagine what I’ll want to do next. Where we’ll go from here. I mean, you and me, not me and...we? Me times five? Or twelve, apparently? Unless there are more than that. How many aspects do you think I have? Eh. That’s a question for another day, I guess.

C’mon. Let’s go...somewhere else. I feel like getting out of the house. I’m sure you do too. Whaddya say? Burgers? My treat.

(footsteps away, fading out)

Say, um, I was kinda thinking...do you think I should go to group therapy with myself?