“And how are things in the recruitments? Any new potential subjects?”
   “Nothing since our last report, sir.” Cyprus stood erectly, hands stiff at his side. He felt like a being of metal, standing so straight and proper. Just as Von Richter wanted him to be. Cyprus fought the betraying scowl from his face before the other could notice.
   “What of the Fabintons?” The figure in the picture frame leaned forward intently. His face was mostly covered in shadow, but the little light from his room gleamed off his monocle. Cyprus and Serena privately believed he had a face worthy of Satan, but they were rather biased.
   “They are still potentials, sir, but it may be risky to replace them. They have a large family, and many social connections. It is entirely possible that someone would notice a change, someone who could comment upon it. As well, their financial position is not all that they pretend that it is; this is not uncommon, but it could make them less useful than previously believed.” This was, of course, all perfectly true, if overly pessimistic. Cyprus had no way of knowing if Von Richter had other Tecnos planted in Upper Society, who else he had researching the families for candidates to be replaced with other loyal slaves. He personally did not want anyone replaced, but to betray this would mean his own death. He and Serena had decided long ago that it was better to give cynical reports than false ones; Von Richter seemed, ironically, to trust their opinions on face value, and few if any of the potential Tecnos were implemented.
   “All right. We will look into it further before taking any action.” Von Richter leaned back again, no longer having to pay personal attention to the rest of the conversation. “You have received the monthly supply of Sustenance?”
   “Yes, sir. It arrived on schedule, as always.” To illustrate, Cyprus lay his hand on the carton on the desk in front of him. Sustenance was Von Richter’s greatest tool of control over all his creations. It was a highly reactive acid, produced only in his lab by literally draining the life-forces from failed creations and animals, and necessary for all his beings to function. Without the supply given to his loyal servants, they would weaken and eventually die like a diabetic denied insulin, often in painful seizures. Cyprus was overcome with the desire to pick up the box and throw it at the picture frame, to watch the acid within eat away at the face of his master. But he knew he couldn’t do that; he’d dispose of it safely later, so Von Richter would suspect nothing.
   “Very good. There is nothing else to report?” It was more a statement that a question; how would a Tecno know if there was anything else that would interest him?
   “Nothing, sir.” Cyprus dropped his hand to his side again, clutching it into a fist as soon as the desk hid it.
   “Very well. I shall call on you again in a week’s time, Tecno 53 and Tecno 54.” With no further parting, his image flashed off, to be replaced with a painting in his likeness. Of course, he would not call them by their names, even if he had been the one to bless them with such things. Only those of importance, such as himself and José deserved something as personal as names; everything else was a number.
   “Not if I could help it,” Cyprus growled as he pulled the sash, dropping the curtains to cover the painting. He leaned against the desk, head down, feeling drained as he always did after the weekly reports.
   Serena, who had been standing silently just in Von Richter’s field of vision, moved forwards to put her hands on his shoulders. Cyprus lifted a hand to cover one of hers in gratitude.
   “Well, that’s that for a week.” She wished that Cyprus didn’t have to be the one to talk to Von Richter every week, but he refused to talk to her. Women were less than nothing to him; he wouldn’t have created her if Cyprus hadn’t needed a wife to fit his prescribed image. Female creations were either random accidents or made when there was no other option; Serena almost hoped he eventually learned the folly of disregarding women. But she was rather glad that she hadn’t had to talk to Von Richter today…she wasn’t feeling altogether well…
   “Yes. Now we have seven days of relative freedom.” Cyprus turned around to face her. He looked into her face, then frowned. “What’s wrong? You look...”
   “Nothing.” Serena moved back, and regretted it. The dizziness that had plagued her since she had woken up an hour ago hit her with full force. “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night because of the nightmare. I just, I just…” Her stomach churned, and she couldn’t ignore it any more. “I…feel sick…”
   “Sick!” Cyprus grabbed her shoulders, which was a good thing because suddenly she didn’t feel very steady on her own. “But, we never get sick! How could…”
   “It’s…it’s nothing…” She interrupted him, trying to reassure him. But her insides felt like they wanted to be turned inside out; she pushed her hand against her mouth in an instinctive gesture to keep everything in.
   “You must have been taking too little Sustenance…” They had, for the past year, begun taking as little Sustenance as possible. It was their greatest secret and disobedience to their master. After noticing the immediate effects of the drug, they had come to suspect that most of their dependence on it was largely an addiction, a response of their human bodies to the otherwise foreign substance. To prove this, they had begun experimenting to see just how little they needed. They had been proud when they had finally cut back to only a quarter of a normal monthly supply each, and were still able to function as usual by increasing the amount of food they ate and sleep they took, until their schedules where practically human. That meant they could survive without Von Richter’s support four times longer than he said was possible. But it was still an experiment, and they could be wrong…“Here!” Cyprus practically threw himself at the carton on the desk, ripped it open, and pulled out one of the vials of glowing, green liquid. He pressed it into her hand just as another wave of nausea passed over her.
   Serena twisted off the stopper, and lifted the vial to her lips slowly. But something about it, the smell, the thought of what it was, repulsed her even more. She threw it to the ground, and ran out of the room, trying to keep everything in a little longer…
   Cyprus stared at the acid eating through the carpet for a few moments, then ran after her.
   He found her in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, wrenching her breakfast out. For a second, he was repulsed; in all the time they had existed, they had never had to do anything even remotely like that. They had been designed as superior beings, and superior beings were not troubled by such common things as illnesses. But concern overrode such instincts, and he bent down to hold her, and waited until she was finished.
   When it was over, he helped her up to the sink so she could wash her mouth out. “What is wrong? And don’t try to tell me ‘nothing’ after that!” He looked at her with something akin to panic, because if anything happened to her he knew he would loss the will to live.
   “I…I don’t know…” While she felt better, she was still unsteady, and everything was hazy. “I just felt…I felt…” Something filtered through her clouded mind, and she forgot everything else. “I felt almost like…” And with that, she ran out of the bathroom. Even more concerned that before, Cyprus chased after her.
   She was in the library again, pulling books from the psychology/sociology section out of the case, flipping through them impatiently, then throwing them on the ground. Watching this display, Cyprus began to doubt her sanity. “Serena, you’re being hysterical. Please, stop, let me…”
   “I found it!” She shouted triumphantly, and spun around to face him, an open book in her hands. “See?” She pointed out a passage to him.
   Interested despite himself, he bent over to read it. “…Between the first and third month of pregnancy, the mother-to-be may experience nausea, commonly called ‘morning sickness.’ This may occur because the hormones in the woman’s body begin to change to accommodate the growing fetus…”
   His head whipped up as he understood what that meant. He looked into Serena’s hopeful face in disbelief, and she nodded giddily. “No. Serena, it’s not possible. I mean, we can’t…” He saw the complete belief in her face, and he mentally questioned all of Von Richter’s teachings about their physiologies. “You really think…?”
   “It is possible, Cyprus. Once we started cutting back on the Sustenance, we both noticed how our bodies seem to become more physically human…” Which was true. Once their bodies recovered from the foreign Sustenance, they did seem to become more human. This meant a certain lack in strength and speed, but the benefits seemed to more than make up for such things. “I did start menstruating, if not regularly…It could happen…It makes sense…” By then she was babbling, but Cyprus didn’t notice. All he could feel was an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction. He wrapped her into a crushing hug, which she returned happily.
   “If we could have a baby…” The possibilities ran through his head: someone to read stories to; someone to take to school; someone to experience normal life, real normal life with; someone to have the childhood they were denied… “Wait, Serena,” he gasped, fear filling him. “What if Von Richter finds out?”
   She looked up at him as the reality of that struck her. “He’d want the baby for experiments! He’d know we’d gone against him! He’d…Cyprus, we can’t let him find out! We can’t!” She felt the fragile beginnings of a new life for them crash at the unknowing hand of their creator.
   He looked at her pained face, and made a decision he knew would change the rest of their lives. “If it’s true, we won’t let him find out. We’ll figure something out. I promise.”