Acis and Galatea

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Echoes In Evening Wear

Will McIntosh


Published: 2006
Type(s): Short Fiction, Science Fiction
Source: http://futurismic.com/category/fiction/

Also available on Feedbooks for McIntosh:

  • Eyelid Movies (2006)

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    "Futurismic is a free science fiction webzine specialising in the fact and fiction of the near future - the ever-shifting line where today becomes tomorrow. We publish original short stories by up-and-coming science fiction writers, as well as providing a blog that watches for science fictional news stories, and non-fiction columns on subjects as diverse as literary criticism, transhumanism and the philosophy of design. Come and imagine tomorrow, today."

     

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    • Echoes In Evening Wear

    Rick was ready to explode, and she hadn’t started taking her clothes off yet. “Turn around in a circle,” he said to the hologram. She turned slowly, gracefully, her black heels making no sound on the hardwood floor.

    She looked exactly like his coworker Melissa. Exactly. He took a few steps toward her, then a few more, until he was looking into her green eyes from a foot away. From close up you could notice just the slightest graininess to the image. Otherwise she looked perfectly real.

    He realized he’d forgotten the window blinds. He closed them, making sure they were flush so there was no way to see in, then sank into the big stuffed chair beside his bed.

    “What’s your name?”

    “Melissa.”

    “Right,” he said. “I’m Rick”

    “Hi, Rick,” the hologram said. She bit her lip thoughtfully. God, it even had Melissa’s expressions. This was unbelievable.

    “I want you to strip for me, Melissa. Nice and slow.”

    Melissa’s cute, chipmunk face reddened. She looked at the floor, began unbuttoning her blouse. Shy and demure—just what he’d asked for. Eddie had been true to his word—black-market or not, this was a top shelf holo. Later he would read up on how to refine the holo’s personality program to make her act even more like the real Melissa.

    Rick stroked himself through his jeans as Melissa let the white dress shirt slide off her shoulders and drop to the floor. It was just the type of shirt Melissa would wear at the office—smartly professional. His eyes locked on the slightly freckled, pale white skin of her cleavage.

    “Will you do anything I tell you to?”

    “Yes,” she said reluctantly. She unhooked the catch on her skirt, let it fall to the floor. Her slim, freckled legs were stunning. She was tiny, just over five feet tall, but well-proportioned.

    She reached back and unhooked her bra.