“So, who would have thought you’d eat your cake and have it, too?” asks Lovemore as he flips through the pages of his book, sitting with one leg crossed in the chair.
“We would, of course,” says Lerato, slamming the hatch shut on her newest creation. The machine whirs to life, puttering around the room with the dissatisfied chugging of existential horror as it sweeps through the apartment.
“So, I don’t think it’s exactly viable to actually sell this design to anyone,” laments Lovemore.
“Nah, but it’s a learning experience. I already got the mind a-chugging for some adjustments to the next mode. Now that I know it works, we can develop our own constructed soul-based operating system. Hopefully, one that doesn’t try to get so uppity.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” says Lovemore, stroking his stomach. “I didn’t mind how uppity our Faker was.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t,” says Lerato, sauntering over towards Lovemore’s seat, pinching his book between her fingers and tossing it aside. She climbs atop him, draping her arms over his shoulders and pulling him close. “Getting your butt pounded by the bootleg copy got you going, didn’t it?”
He blushes, squirming under her. “Y-you’re the one who told him to do it.”
She leans in, pressing her nose to him. “I know, I know, but you’re the one who was squealing like a virgin as he was pressing your boy button.”
“W-what are you going to do to me, my dear?” he whimpers.
“Everything I would ever want,” she says, leaning in and pressing her lips to her husband’s, and the two of them disappear into the delights of their kiss.
That is until a knock at the door interrupts them.
Lerato pulls free, wiping her chin with her thumb. “You get yourself nice and comfortable, love. I’ll be right back.”
She slips away from the chair, walking past the puttering machine, sweeping up the old crumbs off the floor, leaving Lovemore to shuffle slowly out of his garments, luxuriating in himself as he wonders what delights his beloved will do to him.
Lerato makes it to their abode's front entrance and opens the newcomer's door. Standing past the threshold is a woman in a suit.
“This is the establishment of the Lovers?” asks this newcomer.
“It might be,” says Lerato, a hand on her hip and the other on the doorframe. “Who’s asking.”
“A client interested in your services.”
“We’re in the middle of something,” Lerato says, stepping aside, “but if you don’t mind us doing our thing, we can talk.”
—
“Boss, you seem a bit out of it. Are you alright?”
Libi flips the closed sign to open, passing by Baker.
The construct sits at one of the barstools, in his base mannequin form, scribbling down notes and comparing things.
“Boss?”
The faceless mannequin turns toward Libi, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” he says. “It’s so strange that I have blanked out last night. I’m just trying to figure out why.”
Libi slips next to him, looking over the journal. “Any success on that? I’m sorry I wasn’t in last night. I was,” she pauses, “busy.”
“No, that’s quite alright,” he muses, tapping his forehead. “I’ve never had a blackout that long before. It usually occurs between hopping from body to body, and even then, I can account for it, usually.
“Did you ask Tik Tik about it?”
“No, sweetie, I don’t want to bother her. She’s preparing for her trip to the insect kingdoms. Besides, she didn’t devise the initial plan, anyway.”
Libi blinks. “She’s not?”
He shakes his head. “No, no, I developed the initial recipe based on what I learned at the college. I should research, but they always want to poke and prod at me, trying to figure out what makes me tick.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through stuff like that, boss,” Libi says, reaching out and patting him on the back of the hand. “Tell you what—I’ll go look into the library to see what I can find out about the recipe.”
He pats the back of her hand and nods. “Oh, thank you, Libi. You’re such a good help. I could kiss you, but I have no lips right now.” He sighs. “The real sticking point, though, is this,” he says, tapping the notes. “I should have had a client last night, but no names are on the ledger.”
“Foul play?”
“Perhaps, but that’s not for someone like us to decide. Maybe I should get the judicators involved or a hero of some sort.
Libi takes the ledger. “I can see what I can find if you’re okay with me heading off to the college.”
Baker places his cheek in his hand and nods. “You know what, a delivery needs to be made there. Why don’t you do a little snooping after you give that cake to the retirement party?”
Libi smirks. “I might be a bit late.
“Take your time, dear. Take your time…”