Barney let go of Cecil’s hand, and whatever moment of calm he’d achieved a moment ago evaporated. Fortunately, he didn’t attempt to pummel the gleaming white servant again; instead, he hurried down the stairs, fearfully glancing backwards at Mike’s impassive figure. All for the better, she reasoned.She didn’t want to think about what else Haven might have in store to restrain a violent person, apart from the bizarre restraint mesh that had engulfed the big man’s body. So far, no one had been hurt or permanently disabled, but they were still at square one: if there was no way out of the strange city, what could they do?
She felt a pang of concern for her mother, who was sitting alone in their old house, mourning her husband of more than thirty years. Some friends as well as their pastor had dropped in to occasionally keep her company, but Suzanne knew she wanted her only daughter to be there with her. Staying here was not an option. In any case, what kind of life would that be? Haven was the ultimate lonely island. Although the servants provided food, they were effectively cut off from the rest of the world. It seemed unimportant in context, yet she found herself wondering what they would do for entertainment. Was there a Haven radio station, or even TV? Could they at least get some books to read? She shook her head, dislodging the pointless thought. They wouldn’t be here long enough to need entertainment, if she had anything to say about it.
"Mike," she addressed the servant, "people are terrified. They’re only going to get worse if you lock us up here in Haven forever with nothing to do. You’re just going to end up with a bunch of insane people. What’s that going to prove?"
"I’m afraid I have no answers to your concerns, Suzanne. My purpose is to provide you with whatever you need to live comfortably in your home. Please let me know if you would like me to procure something for you."
"I don’t mean just stuff like that fried turkey you got me earlier, Mike. It’s not enough to keep us alive; we all have lives to live and people that we care about who aren’t here with us. We will never be content here if all of that is taken away, and there’s no way you can replace it." Mike was quiet for a moment and seemed to contemplate. She winced as her head started hurting suddenly, though it lasted only a moment.
"I understand you are missing your mother and father, Suzanne. If you require it, we can construct copies of them to keep you company. I must warn you, however, that it will take some time to extract the necessary information from your mind in order to ensure the greatest fidelity to the original personalities of the persons of interest. I would advise you to give us a substantial amount of time, at least a few weeks. Once the process is complete however, the constructor in the middle of the city will be able to generate their bodies very quickly." Suzanne’s jaw dropped.
"Are you kidding me? You think I would be happy having," she waved her hand, looking for the right word, "zombie copies of my parents around? Don’t you dare do such a thing!"
"I can not force you to do this of course, it was merely a suggestion. As an alternative, the constructor may also be used to repair or modify your own body, including your brain. If the memories of your parents are too painful, it is also possible to remove them from your mind. I must warn you though that the process can not be reversed. Would you consider this instead? We wish your stay here to be as pleasant as possible and are open to any other suggestions you may have to put our resources to their most effective use, as long as they are not intended to harm you or remove you from Haven." Suzanne was shaking her head, her hands covering her mouth. She closed her eyes for a moment and felt tears coming on, but suppressed them. Despair threatened to overwhelm her.
"This is a nightmare," she said, turning away from Mike and looking to the horizon where the last rays of the sun disappeared.
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