5. RAND
A golden chain hung around her neck with the name “Kimberly” spelled out in a gaudy cursive font. The word rested directly on the patch of skin below her neck, in the exact fashion she used to wear it. She was exactly the way he remembered her, from the curve of her neck, to the light, flowery scent of her sweat as it rolled down the edge of her breast.
And now she was crying, her every snuffle and tear a perfect recreation of the real thing. Her eyes rose from the ground to stare up at him, mascara running down her cheeks. Pitiable. Distraught. Perfect.
“You’re a monster,” she said, but the timber of her voice was off by 2/3 of a percentage point.
He paused the simulation to adjust the voice pitch modulator. No one else would have noticed. Correction: no end user woul
