"Where have you been this afternoon?!" my father asked in a bad mood.

It was late in the evening. He was standing in the kitchen, staring at me with anger, disbelief, and worry. I was sitting on a chair by the kitchen table, wondering whether I had betrayed his trust beyond repair. Even the kitchen seemed to be smaller than usual, closing in on me, due to the unbearable awkwardness that I felt under his imposing stare and thundering voice.

"I'm awfully sorry. My boss has called you back, I assume." I felt caged in with a lion as a cellmate.

"Of course, he has!" he yelled back so loudly that it startled me.

He was pacing up and down the kitchen in fury while I rested my elbows on the table and leaned my cheeks on my hands.

"You've left work not saying a word to anyone!" He sighed with frustration.

Our kitchen was old and rather minimalist. I had always been told that my great-grandparents from my mother's side of the family had built it themselves a long time ago. The wood was light and the marble, white. It had some scratches here and there. Some of the tiles had old cracks, too. The electrical household appliances were also old, and the vast majority of them weren't even ours. Either Daniel or I had mended them, and we had left them on the kitchen counter to make tests.

"Your boss' secretary was talking to you!" I could even feel his voice like an earthquake on the table. "What do you think this incident's gonna cost you?! What you've done not only is wrong according to common sense, but it's also against the Gender-based Job Listings for Traditional Humans Act! You're gonna lose this job!"

"I know, dad," I replied as calmly as I could, but I was shivering.

The Gender-based Job Listings for Traditional Humans Act detailed which jobs were meant for traditional humans according to economic background and gender. In my case, since I was a young woman from the Dam, I could only work as a cleaning lady, a cook, a housemaid, a dust woman, or a level one tailor (not a designer, just the one in charge of small arrangements, under clone close supervision), for example. That was why most men in my neighbourhood worked in factories and most women in the cleaning sector.

The act also stated the reasons to get sacked. What I had done that afternoon could be construed as an irrefutable action to be made redundant. Only if a clone boss was kind enough, they could give you a second chance. That didn't happen often.

"I'm forty-four years old, Daphne!" my father insisted with worry. "You can't get sacked like that!"

"You're right," I replied with unbearable sadness and covered my face with both hands. "I will have no job. I no longer have got a mother or a brother. He's dead, dad. He's not going to come back. And soon I'm gonna be left alone, without you," I added that last part whispering.

"Daphne, please..." he said as if he was begging me to end his misery.

"I... I'm sorry, Dad." The less I talked to my father, the better. His brain chip could give me away to the clone government. So, I just apologised.

"Since the brain chip network is still running," he said after a sigh, "I don't think we have to worry about the police forces coming to fetch you for interrogation. They must've already checked that Daniel and you have got nothing to do with the attacks."

I nodded.

"By the way, where have you been this afternoon?" He sat by my side at the kitchen table. Luckily, he was calmer. "Were you in trouble?"

"No! No... I..." I hesitated.

I couldn't tell him the truth even though I was dying to do so. I suddenly felt horribly alone, because I could no longer tell him my worries and my thoughts like before. I couldn't seek his advice. I was in that mess on my own, except for the people from Amanita – if I managed to survive Agape's test.

So, I could not say something like: 'Well, Dad. I've just rushed into the streets, got to the BioBank, and stopped dead in my tracks because I was scared shitless. Then, there was this handsome guy inside a large empty rubbish bin. He's seen me; I've seen him. He's the one who's attacked the BioBank, and also the GSNS with the help of some colleagues. He was meant to kill Daniel but failed, and now his boss and he blame me for it. But he wouldn't even have got the chance to blow up the BioBank if I hadn't mended his motorbike right before the incident. So, in a way, I have helped a terrorist. By the way, he's hacked my nanochip, and now I'm free! Well, more or less. Now, I've got a test to pass before I get murdered for being unworthy of belonging to their secret terrorist society, a group I don't even want to be part of. They don't want me in. I've been involved by accident but they won't let me go. I've spent part of the afternoon with this deadly stranger and his boss, an irate woman who's never satisfied with anything. So, I will probably be dead by 4 p.m. tomorrow. Quite a normal afternoon, isn't it?'

Nope, I couldn't tell my father that.

I felt the blood draining from my face. What could I tell him?

"I've been close enough to the BioBank to see the damage," I answered, trying to be careful. "It's... horrible. I wanted to see it for myself. Where Daniel was supposed to be. How he might've felt. I wanted to find out where he was, but I... I was so scared, Dad. So much destruction, and so many heavily armed policemen!"

Up until that moment, everything I had said had been true and non-compromising, but I doubted I could go on like that for long.

"I wanted to search for Daniel, but in the end... I-I just couldn't. I was in shock. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left the office like that. I should've come back."

My breathing became ragged. My hands were shaking. I was staring at them when suddenly I saw how his hands held mine with tenderness. The heat of his hands was comforting. I would've stayed like that forever, even though I was feeling ashamed of looking so fragile. I was used to putting up a brave face, but the events of that afternoon had taken a heavy toll on me.

"It's normal, Daphne. You were really close, Daniel and you," he said with an enviable serenity. "I would've done the same thing if I had been in your shoes." He sighed. "Look, you were right about what you've said before. You'll soon be left alone in this world. Promise me you'll act with more wisdom from now on. I won't feel at ease until you do."

"I promise."

That was the first official lie of my brand-new double life because being involved with a terrorist group would ensure a life without any wise course of action.

"And why haven't you come back to work after that?"

What was I supposed to answer to that?

"I've met... a guy." He sensed my obvious hesitation and raised an eyebrow at me.

"What?" he asked me with incredulity. "A guy?!"

In fact, it was true, yet misplaced in time. I could tell him a white lie of sorts. I guessed that, for as long as it wasn't something that might compromise the rebels, it would be fine.

"It's not what you think." I just wouldn't tell him who that guy was.

"You've never lied to me, Daphne! You know you shouldn't!" he shouted, feeling indignant. "You know I know you're not interested in guys. You never have. Not girls either. This is a pathetic excuse!"

"It's not an excuse! It's true!"

"Daphne..." he warned me. He was getting weary.

"It's true. I've met a guy. I haven't said a word about being in... love... with him... or anything."

I wanted to die after having said that. Me in love with Siegfried? Never gonna happen. He was hotter than a volcano, but I'd never fall for him. He had the worst ego in the universe.

"That's not a valid excuse for not going back to work, Daphne," he insisted with authority.

"He was in trouble, and alone, in the area close to the BioBank. I had mended his motorbike before the incident. He needed help. He was in shock. He had witnessed the explosion. He looked so lost that I decided to help him find his way home. And then, I was feeling too lost myself after what had happened to Daniel, and everything you had told me over the phone, that I... I didn't know what to do. I've spent most of the afternoon walking aimlessly around town. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Siegfried wasn't the kind of guy who freezes in shock, but my father didn't need to know that. I made him into a fragile guy, just for the sake of not getting in trouble with my father.

My father was staring at me with a strange mix of worry and anger again. Eventually, he sighed and decided to believe me.

"This is insane. You've mended his bike?" He chuckled and massaged his temples. "Good God, Daphne, please. This stupid dream of becoming a mechanic and having a garage, stop it, please. Now that Daniel's not around, it's pointless."

"Why have you got so little faith in me?!" I asked sadly and with anger.

"This isn't about faith, Daphne. You can't do it. It's not listed in the Gender-based Job Listings for Traditional Humans Act. Besides, people wouldn't come to your garage," he insisted. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry to say these things to you. And so blatantly and with so much cruelty. But people would only come to the garage if it was run by him, not you. Nobody will come."

Since Daniel was male, he had to sign all the papers. Officially the garage would be his, and I'd be his employee. That was legal. Despite the chips, we were not afraid. Others had done similar, harmless, little tricks like that.

"Are you telling me to give up?!" I asked, enraged. "I could still make it work! I could find a guy to pretend to run the place!"

So, my father had no faith in me. It hurt a lot. He had the same opinion about this as Uriel, that stupid guy I met last week. I'm a girl, and a traditional human, so my options are limited and I should shut up about it.

"There are lots of problems in the world, and a girl fighting to succeed in a job that's considered to be for men is way down the list of priorities. I don't think you'll ever find a guy to fill Daniel's place. Nobody will pay the slightest attention to you. It doesn't matter whether you're worth it or not, whether you're capable of it or not. That will never be the issue. This world isn't ready for you and your dream. It never will."

He sighed.

"I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time now, Daphne." His voice was full of concern. "All that money that you've been saving and that you want to spend on this dream will be wasted – and you know it. You need to get another job. Don't open the garage on your own. If you do, the clones are going to come and shut your business. And you'll find yourself penniless. And I won't be here to help you. Alone and broke, Daphne. Please, do me a favour, both to me and to yourself: forget about this dream. It's impossible. I know what it means to be left alone. Neighbours might still love you dearly, but they're not family. Don't do anything stupid, Daphne. You'd be begging in the streets – or worse."

I couldn't believe he was insinuating what I thought he was insinuating, but he shut up and got paler. I swallowed hard.

"Just get a similar job to the one you've had until now. Your boss hasn't told me you were fired. Start praying to Apollo so that your boss may have mercy on you."

We didn't believe in Apollo. Only clones did. He was mortal, a human being like the rest of us. He was the creator of clones, an old man in his eighties. They called him the Living God, and he was worshipped as such even though he was a traditional human. He was the only exception.

"I'm sure I'll be given the sack tomorrow," I replied. "My boss must hate me."

"Tomorrow morning," he said lovingly, "you'll dress formally, with the best dress you've got. When I've spoken to your boss on the phone before, I've told him you'd knock on his office door tomorrow first thing in the morning. You'll apologise for your rash behaviour. He seemed satisfied to hear me say that. You'll speak with propriety, formally, although I know it's hard for you. You'll say that your brother means a lot to you and you'll beg his forgiveness with all your heart. Try to wear a sad smile, and be agreeable and polite. Everything will be fine. I've vouched for you, said that you're a good girl who needs more experience in life, that's all. If you do what I've told you, you don't have to worry."

I couldn't believe what he was asking me to do. It was hurting my pride, again.

"You're practically telling me to kneel in front of him to beg him not to kill me as if I was a simpleton who doesn't know how to handle her feelings?"

"Daphne," he replied with mild hardness, "stop complaining like that. Will you do as I'm asking you?"

"Yes, but you know I've always had my doubts about this job, dad."

"Doubts?" he said in a much lighter mood. "I know it's not the best there is, but your salary is quite good for a traditional human. Many girls would envy you if they knew what you earn. It's a safe job, besides."

"It's a cosmetic surgery clinic, Dad. I'm still young now, but from the first day I started working there, I knew I wouldn't last long. They're not gonna love it when they realise that I'm getting older. I won't fit in with the business line of the company. They will see me as a burden because I won't give the image of youth they're trying to sell."

"You're right."

"I know I have to find something else. If not now, soon. Before I grow older."

"Many offices downtown need cleaning personnel, Daphne," he went on trying to cheer me up by giving me options. "If your boss fires you anyway, ask for a letter of recommendation – politely. You might need it."

"Okay." He had a point.

"Now," he said then with glowing, loving eyes, "tell me more about this guy you've met this afternoon."

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You've mended his motorbike. You've helped him get back home. And?"

"Dad..." I warned him.

"What's happened after that?" he asked with curiosity. "How is he? Where does he live? When can I know him? Or do I know him already?"

"Wow! Stop it, dad!" I exclaimed blushing. My ears turned red, even. "You're getting the wrong idea."

"You're blushing. I think I'm getting the right idea."

"Dad!" I was appalled.

"What?" He reacted defensively, but with sweetness. "I haven't even asked you whether he's handsome, or whether you fancy him."

"Please..." I begged him to end my suffering. I put my hands over my eyes and sighed.

"As a father, I've got the right to be excited about my daughter getting a boyfriend, haven't I? What's his name?"

He was obsessed with the idea of meeting his grandchildren, but it was too late for that by that time. He had only got eight months left, so now he wanted to settle by meeting my 'boyfriend'.

"Taking care of Daniel has always been a priority for you," he explained, carefully choosing his words. "You've loved him like a child of your own. I never believed you when you said you didn't want a husband and children."

"It's not that easy," I whispered back with sadness.

"I know it isn't. Trust me. I faced the same issue before you when I was your age."

"Don't get your hopes high about this... new friend, Dad."

"You're not gonna tell me anything, I guess," he eventually said with pity.

He sighed, and then he went on telling me he had been calling friends and colleagues from work to announce Daniel's death. We were due to perform the candle ritual in the evening of the next day, after the hockey game.

The candle ritual was a farewell ceremony that was performed after a beloved person's death. The Compulsory Euthanasia of Traditional Humans Act made it legally valid to not only kill us when we reached forty-five years of age, but also to take away the corpses of our beloved ones, and also to forbid us from having graveyards. We had had no right to bury our people, so a new tradition sprang out of need. We could not mourn their corpses because the clones always claimed them, and they never told us where they kept them or what they did to them, so we mourned their souls instead. That's why we celebrated the candle ritual.

We would gather at the deceased's house with their friends and family, sit around a table in a circle, lit a candle, tell loving stories and share our most beloved memories of them. One by one, the stories would fill the room and our hearts, until the candle would melt and blow out of exhaustion. Once the flame would be consumed, we would remain in silence for one minute. Then, everyone would go home.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I'm not, really. I'm just going to sleep."

Bringing up Daniel and his candle ceremony left us taciturn and exhausted.

"So am I, dad." I wasn't hungry. I wasn't sleepy either.

"I'll call his teachers in the morning." Then, he closed the door of his bedroom. His teachers would probably be the last ones to know.

I spent the rest of the night crying alone in my bedroom until I was too exhausted to go on, and I fell asleep.

Hello, my sugar cubes!

Rost Peneus is angry at her daughter because he loves her dearly, more than his own life. Will Daphne properly handle this double life, or will she get in trouble?

Stay tuned to know more! 😊

XOXO

MS