The Perfect lay still and quiet on Remington's bed, the perfect human.

He looked perfect, too. Remington was amazed at how pretty he was, down to his sloped nose and slim bone structure.

Remington read through the instructions multiple times while he waited. He had already filled a glass with water and made a slice of toast and butter, and was anxious to do the right thing.

He had spent a lot of money on his Perfect, and a lot of time choosing the right one. There were hundreds. Ranging from early twenties to late forties. Remington had chosen one who was thirty-one and heavily tattooed.

When he first learnt about The Perfects, he didn't know there was an option to have them tattooed, but as he read more about how they were created, it turned out that the bodies were human, that each one was a person who had previously passed away from a terminal illness or injury.

His Perfect suffered from brain cancer, and before he died, he signed a form which permitted the use of his body for The Perfects.

And now, he woke.

Remington straightened in his seat beside the bed. He watched The Perfect open its eyes and lift a perfect hand to rub them. He glanced down at the instructions to be sure that he was saying the correct thing, and spoke.

"Hey there. It's good to see you. I'm Remington. How're you feeling?"

The Perfect turned its head to look at Remington. His eyes were so blue that Remington thought for a moment that he was hallucinating.

There was a long pause. The Perfect rubbed his eyes again and blinked. "I'm feeling confused," he said. His voice struck Remington as a smoker's, it was so gravelly.

"I can imagine," Remington said. "What's your name? And pronouns? If you want to tell me. You don't have to."

"My name is Andrew. My pronouns are he/him." Slowly, he sat up against the pillow. "What are your pronouns, Remington?"

"Uh, he/him," Remington replied. He was surprised that Andrew had asked, was expecting to be the one to initiate the conversation. He realised how much about The Perfects he was yet to learn.

Andrew was looking at Remington thoughtfully, and his expression was so human-like that he didn't look like a robot at all. "Do I belong to you, Remington?"

The human hesitated, then nodded. "Well, yes," he said. "But I don't think it's right to say you belong to me. But technically, yes." He looked down at the manual again. "I got you some water and toast."

Andrew's eyes found the glass and the plate on the bedside table. "Thank you, Remington," he said smoothly, then hesitated. "This is butter, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. Yes. That's butter."

"I'm sorry to be a nuisance to you, Remington, but I'm vegan."

"Gotcha. I'll be right back." Jumping up, Remington picked up the plate and left the room. He returned with a bowl of sliced red grapes and apple, made a mental note to buy more vegan friendly foods.

When he put it down on the bedside table, Andrew smiled and said, "Thank you, Remington. This is very kind of you."

"No problem."

"Is this your bedroom, Remington?"

"No, it's yours."

Andrew sipped the water. "Oh," he said. "Thank you."

"That's okay."

"Do you live alone?"

Remington nodded. "Until today. But my brothers are nearby."

"How many brothers do you have, Remington?"

"Two. Emerson and Sebastian."

"These are very interesting names," Andrew said. "Maybe one day I will meet Emerson and Sebastian?"

"They're very keen to meet you, so I'm sure you will. Once you're settled in."

"Emerson and Sebastian already know of my existence?"

"I told them about you when I decided you were the one I wanted. About a week ago."

Andrew bit into a slice of apple. "Can I ask why you decided you wanted me, Remington?"

"Well, in short, I'm having a hard time making and keeping friends who aren't only interested in my fame." 

"That's very interesting that you're famous." 

Remington closed the information booklet and crossed his legs. "Not always," he said. "But most of the time, it's pretty good." 

"What is the reason that you are famous?" 

"I'm in a band with my brothers. I sing. But don't sound too excited about it or I'll have to ditch you, too." He worried the joke might have gone over Andrew's head, but The Perfect chuckled the way a human would, and Remington smiled. 

"Noted," Andrew said. "You are a very handsome person, Remington." 

"Oh, uh, thank you. So are you." 

"Thank you, Remington." He picked up the glass of water and took a sip. 

"You can call me Rem, if you like. Or Remi." 

"And you can call me Andy, if you like."

"I will." 

Andy put the glass down. "We're going to be good friends, I think, Remi." 

"I agree. Sorry, I should have asked if you wanted anything else?" 

"No, thank you." 

Remington nodded. It was a weird experience, talking to someone who wasn't really a person at all, and yet he looked and sounded so normal. "I like your tattoos." 

"They belong to the previous owner of this body. They are very confusing to me. I don't understand what most of them are for." 

"Maybe I can help," Remington offered. "Which ones don't you understand?" Andy pointed to the 'Juliet' tattoo and Remington hesitated, then said, "I think that Juliet must have been his girlfriend or wife." 

"Yes, that would make sense." 

"A little awkward that it's on your arm, now." 

"Yes, it is a little bit awkward. Maybe I will find someone called Juliet." 

Remington laughed. "Maybe." 

"Do you know anyone called Juliet?"

"No. You could just say you really love the play 'Romeo and Juliet'." 

"I cannot lie. It would make me very upset to lie." 

Remington wanted to hug him because they were right. He was perfect. "Then at least it makes for a good story if someone asks. Maybe I could take you to get it covered up at some point. I've been meaning to book a few for myself, anyway." 

"Yes, I noticed you have a lot." 

"Not as many as you, by the looks of it. And you didn't have to deal with the pain, either. Lucky sod." 

"Yes, that is very lucky, I suppose." 

"Not if you don't like them, though." 

"The previous owner of this body had good taste." 

"I agree." 

Andy was eating the fruit. "Maybe I will learn about his tattoos somehow. I think it would be interesting to know the meaning of them. Can I ask the meaning of yours, Remington?" 

Remington was happy to oblige, pointing out each of his visible tattoos and explaining the reason he got it. Andy showed great interest the entire time, and when he was done, Remington said, "You're a very good listener." 

"Thank you. I think it is important to listen." 

"Definitely." 

"I am looking forward to learning more about you."