Page 7 of Accounting for Taste

“That is my curse.Shall I leave and return?”

“No, miss.Please.She will be out in a moment.”

Reem stood in her business clothing, a long straight tunic and trousers with businesslike shoes.

When the yellow-marked woman came into the room, Reem waited.The receptionist pointed, and the woman went orange.

“C-comptroller?”

“Yes.”

“Please come with me.”

Reem stepped forward and followed the woman down the hall to a very secure door at the end of the facility.

“We keep this unit here as the overlord bestowed it, and it is extremely costly.”

“It also has a specific purpose which I obviously require.”Reem nodded.“Are you fully checked out on the unit?”

“I have used it twice before with varying results.”

“May I program it?Computers and I get along.”

The woman blinked, and her orange got creamsicle with a hint of green.“You can work the unit?”

“Of course.I am part computer myself, after all.It does make people a little ill, so I thought extruding hair would set folks at ease.”

“You aren’t a bot?”

“No.Just a Terran whose brain was split and repaired.”

To Reem’s shock, the woman collapsed to the floor and bowed several times.

“What are you doing?”

“You have seen death and returned.It is a status to be honoured.”

“Oh.Yes, I have.But I came back without feeling, so I live by social direction, and social direction says that you should not be on the floor.”

A bright pink came up, and she stood.“I will watch you and correct you if there are any settings that are not precise.”

Reem nodded and went to the control panel next to the chair with a lot of neck support and an entertainment screen above.She requested colour-changing nanites calibrated to her biology and hair to her waist.She made note of the medical appliance, and the scanners were set to map her twice before they started.

Her stylist blinked.“That was so fast.”

“It’s just programming.”She settled in the chair and said, “Can you press go for me?”

The woman nodded and pressed the activator.

Reem sat while the unit mapped her hairline and the edge of the implant.When it started to extrude hair, follicle by follicle, she remained relaxed and went over the following day’s schedule, doing research and calculating actions on previous requests.

By the time the two hours had passed, she had worked through arranging her roster for the next two weeks.The machine simply withdrew silently, and she sat up, pulling a hank of the black stuff over her shoulder.“Marked for death still.Ah, well.”

Black was the colour of death for the locals.The stylist came in and gasped.“Comptroller.”

“Yes, the hair is programmed, but it seems that the problem with my emotions is locked in.I will have to try focusing to fake it, or I will be distressing people everywhere I go,” Reem observed.

“Madam, if you knew it would default, I could have put a colour in it.”

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