The clock strikes noon. A few hours before the streets would be filled with kids’ laughter as they leave their middle school, a certain person wakes up. In that unknown city, in a small, old apartment, there hides a retired field spy. Lola –as we will call her– does her missions now in her bedroom, through hacking and snarky, funny comebacks.

     “Ha! Gotcha, ya’ loser!”

     Not that funny comebacks.

     She would put more effort into it if she would not have just woken up. Most people think that she is literate, but she is not. In truth, the 25-year-old barely finished high school. She trained as a spy from an early age, so how exciting school can be when she was to become the greatest spy in her Agency? But don’t get this wrong, she is not stupid. As her boss would say, "You lazy and smel—"

     No, not that one!

     "You are a brave and remarkable agent, who solves the missions with great intelligence. When you are not drunk."

     Lola snorts remembering that and takes a sip of her beer.

     Soon, noises will be heard from outside of her home. Lola hates kids. Moving to an apartment near a middle school probably wasn’t her best idea of the many ideas she had in her life. But their sounds will bother her only for a few minutes.

     And then silence. 

     The quiet ring that buzzes in her ears was always there? She wondered… Maybe, after all these years, she was depressed. And didn’t want to admit to it. Maybe the fact that her only friend is her plant that she named Billy is a problem. And, maybe, because Billy has only two healthy remaining leaves is another problem.

     Lola sighs and takes another finishing sip. “I’ve got the files from the dude’s computer,” she says to John, her former field partner. She helps him sometimes with his missions.

     “Thanks, Lo! I have to go, I am in the middle of a shooting.”

     She hangs up the phone before she can hear that awful familiar sound. She wants to forget it. With the thought that she needs more beer, she shuts down her laptop and leaves her apartment with small, lazy steps.

     “Oh, hi, Lola!”

     Lola turns her head to face her neighbor. “Hello, Mrs. Perry,” she responds with a fake smile. She swears this woman is an enemy who has a mission to spy on her every move. She, somehow, is always outside at her door whenever Lola leaves her apartment. “How are you today?”

     “I am fine, dear. But you have to go out more… You are going to die in a few years if you will not see the sun.”

     Aren’t you like 100 years old, Lola thinks, narrowing her eyes at the neighbor, that’s what I will have to say to you. But she can’t say that. Mrs. Perry would raise her rent again. Maybe the mission of the old woman is to take all of her money.

     “I think the sun would die if it sees me!” Lola forces a ridiculous laugh like she hasn’t said the stupidest thing her brain couldn’t think enough at this early hour. She turns around, forgetting to lock her door, and goes to the near store.

     She stops at the entrance. A masked man threatens the one behind the counter with a gun. Lola slowly backs away to leave. 

     Great! Now she has to go to another one!

     Lola is tired of all the violence. It's not like she can’t stop the masked guy from robbing the store. But she will be refused anyway. So she refuses to make these her problems. Since the Ar clones were created, people only expect for those mindless puppets to save them. Better than robots Lola says. They always give her the creeps. She hopes that no one will invent them, at least.

     Not that the Ar clones aren’t giving her the same feelings... but people actually trust those things so much into giving them a police uniform. Just because they are created to outlive humans and regenerate faster so that they can never die.

     Humanity is slowly going insane. People say that humans will go instinct and clones will live for eternity. But how do people know what eternity is if no one lived it?

     I guess the clones will found out then.

     Her ringtone makes her return form her thoughts. “Hey, Lola,” the almost forgotten voice of the secretary chirps on the other end of the phone, “The Boss wants to see you at the main office. It’s an emergency.”