Gilda

“Compliments from other women really do count for something,” she insisted, “I cannot create my new self from the void—not with any sort of confidence anyway—if I’m the only one on this station who thinks I’m some kind of wonderful.”

“I think you’re some kind of wonderful,” commented Mr. Martin Hague in his usual digitized monotone.

“You’re a semi-sentient computer program, dear. You’re programmed to think I’m wonderful. But you see I’m forming a whole new identity now—a human female—and for that I’ll need much more than the dry opinion of a floating hard drive, especially one named Martin, no offense.”

“I do not have the capacity to take offense,” he replied, “though that was my grandfather’s name.”

“Oh dear, you do know that you don’t have a grandfather, don’t you?”

“Oh? Well, you have no face.”

“What?”

“How do you expect to be complimented at all without any kind of face? ‘Oh my,’ they’ll say, ‘what a lovely stretch of skin you have over your cheek bones.’”

“For a program that cannot take offense, you can certainly give it out a fair shake. Though I do have nice cheek bones, don’t I?” she said, catching her reflection in Martin’s reflective surface. “Hmm,” she paused, tensing the muscles through the front of her head in sequence, a web of golden lines mapping itself across the outter layer of skin from beneath. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Within only a matter of moments, one thin line widened then plumped into two lips, parting with a bright yellow glow between them. Then two widening holes were overshadowed by a bump in the center as it took shape into a workable nose, and finally, a pair of eyes—first one, then the other—blinked themselves into existence, revealing shining, golden irises and pupils that widened profusely at her reflection.

“There,” she said, smiling slyly, “Now what do you think of that, my dear Mr. Hague?”

Martin played his best replication of a sigh. “I think you are perhaps aiming for more than just other women’s compliments,” he said.

“Well, of course,” she winked, “You yourself said it—I am some kind of wonderful.”