Ripped Genes

At his apartment, Ramone invited Sufra to sit while he made tea.

“Can’t your kitchen bot do that?”

“I want to put my own twist on it,” he said.

“Um, I don’t want any—”

He laughed. “No, I’m not putting pot in it. Just hand squeezing lemon.”

“Ok, great.” As they talked about their families and lives on Earth, she got a strange feeling of Déjà vu. She’d told herself she had to watch the footage as it was erased to make sure it was what she was supposed to erase. This man’s face, his voice…it was uncanny.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Ramone asked suddenly. “I’ve been hungry for a while, but I’m having such a great time I didn’t want to interrupt things.”

“Sure. I have some work I have to finish, anyway. I can do it here while you get it organised. Just give me a call if you want help.”

“I’m fine, go ahead.”

This was perfect, she thought. She’d decided it was time to check on the Ambassador’s computer security, which required her to go into the files at least as far as seeing document titles. It was actually part of her job description. The Ambassador knew that, why not just tell her everything? She was close to finding something interesting when she paused. It looked like someone else had been in, and covered their tracks. Quite well, but not completely. A shot of panic went through her. It was a good thing she’d decided to do this. She hadn’t really expected any breaches on a ship like this full of highly vetted dedicated professionals. Now she had real work to do on this. It would be better done in her office, so she made notes and continued her Ramone search. She froze. There it was, a weird file heading: Ramone Roberto Creation. Creation? It was classified of course, but she had official ways to get into everything. She felt a twang of guilt. The Ambassador probably assumed she wouldn’t go in unless she was testing the security, then just to see if she could.

Sufra’s mouth dropped open as she read the document.