I'm back in Rick’s small room, next to the one I had woken up in. Shane explained to me that these rooms are for people waking up from cryostasis. When they used to bring people awake in the med bay, they reacted very negatively–anything from paranoid delusions to violent rages. It was found through trial and error that allowing people to wake up alone in a small, quiet room and not bother them for the first ten minutes was the safest protocol.

I'm here with Rick because unlike reviving regular humans from cryostasis, turning Rick on is instantaneous. Shane wanted me to be the one to do it because there is no telling how Rick will react. He's the first Perfect Match to be turned on after being frozen solid, so he might be unstable. But I reasoned that he wouldn't hurt me even if he is unstable, because of the sync. After some back and forth, we agreed that I would wake up Rick and Shane would be right outside the door, out of sight.

So here I am getting ready to press the soft spot under his chin. That's the "on button." I'm supposed to hold it for around thirty seconds until he wakes up, so I can't just press it and bolt out the door leaving him to wake up alone.

Okay. I've procrastinated long enough.

Here goes.

I'm pressing the bottom of his chin when the thought suddenly enters my head that he might not be synced to me when he wakes up. Not really. Shane set all that up remotely back at home. I wonder now, as I wait for him to wake, whether he would be automatically synced as I am now to the station's network. What if there is a lag? What if there is some kind of problem with the network and he's unable to access it? My real worry is: if he wakes up and reacts in some kind of violent way, will he know me? Will he recognize me as a person he wouldn't ever want to hurt? Or might I be in real danger here?

This is a hell of a time for this to occur to me. I close my eyes and reassure myself. Shane knows what he's doing. If there was a possible issue with Rick's sync, Shane would have brought it up. I don't need to worry. Nothing bad will happen.

There is a hand closing around my throat with such speed that I don't have time to gasp. I'm pushed back and stood up against the wall quicker than I can open my eyes. And the hand squeezes, threatening to cut off air. When I open my eyes, Rick looks like a stranger. His eyes are a different color. Instead of the warm, deep brown, they're a cool gray. His skin tone is markedly pale too. And the tattoo that snaked up the side of his neck is gone.

"Rick," I croak. Trying as best I can to speak with my throat being clamped tight.

"Rick," he mimics me in an icy mechanical voice. Oh, fuck. I'm so scared. Terror is a shard of ice in my gut. I can't yell for Shane. I can't fight off Rick. I'm trapped with this cyborg, this superhuman who doesn't even look like Rick anymore or sound like him.

I work to suck in a shallow breath.

"Rick," I whisper, "It's me, Honey."

"Honey."

"Yeah, I'm Honey. You know me. We're synced," his hand tightens a notch, and he starts lifting. Scared that he might pop my head right off my neck, I stretch out on tip-toes and wrap my hands around his forearm, pulling myself up.

My feet are dangling as he lifts me right up off the floor and my vision starts to tunnel.

"P-please!" I sputter, begging.

And then he tilts his head to the side just a fraction and it's the damndest thing, but I watch as the color returns to his features. His eyes are deep brown, skin a warm gold and his tattoo suddenly just appears on his neck. And the cold, narrow regard in his eyes is replaced by a look of surprise and recognition.

His eyes widen and he gasps, "Honey!"

I'm simultaneously released and scooped up into his arms.

"What's happening? Why were we fighting?"

"You've been in cryostasis, and I guess you had a bad reaction to being woken up," I rub my neck as I explain. I'm definitely going to bruise from that.

"Cryostasis," he repeats back to me as he sits down on the floor and cuddles me up to him in his lap.

"Yeah, we're on the Horizon Colonies Space Station."

He should know this already. If the sync is all hooked up, I shouldn't need to explain anything to him.

"That makes sense," he says agreeably, but still sounding kind of…dazed, I think?

I look toward the door, and I see Shane peaking in. He opens the door when I wave him in.

"Everything go okay?"

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I shake my head and stand up from Rick’s lap.

I tell Shane what happened, and Rick is visibly startled by this, saying, "What? Honey, I'm so sorry! I don't remember any of that! When was this? I-I swear, I…"

Shane is looking at him coldly, like he's contemplating just tossing him out an air-lock or beating him senseless. He only takes a couple moments before he seems to have come to a decision.

"Alright pal, come with me and we'll check you out and see what's going on.” He motions for Rick to follow him out the door.

"No, I want to stay with Honey," he turns to me, "I think there is an issue with my sync. I seem to be online, but a different system—”

"Yeah, I'll explain all that to you, bud–just come this way," Shane talks over him and grabs his elbow, pulling him out of the room.

Rick twists around to give me a beseeching look, "I would never hurt you, Honey! I don't know what's going on, but—”

"We're going to figure it out," Shane is talking over Rick again, "Want to come with, Hun? Or do you need a breather?"

I look from Shane to Rick and back. I would like a breather, but–

"I'll come with."

Shane nods, "Alright. Hear that pal? She's coming with us. No worries."

I follow them out and Shane leads us in the opposite direction of the cafeteria, away from the part of the station I've already seen and down winding and ever-narrowing corridors. He stops in front of an unlabeled, nondescript oval door.

"Where's this?" I ask

"My shop," Shane answers.

Shane is an electrical engineer, he works here taking care of the drones that are constantly moving back and forth between Europa and the space station. I don't know how I expected his work area to look, but this is not it. It's messy. There's stuff, parts of things everywhere. I guess, maybe it's an organized mess? I mean, nothing is dirty. There are heaps and stacks of parts. One chair and a desk overflowing with tools and three large, curved screens.

"Please have a seat," he says politely as he lightly shoves Rick into the rolling office chair. He pulls out his portable touchscreen and starts tapping.

"So Rick, do you have a last name?" Shane asks casually as the three screens on his desk start coming on. Two of them have lines of code, one has a couple moving line graphs.

"Dekkard."

Shane barks a laugh, "Good one," and then asks, "Seriously? Rick Dekkard?"

Rick nods.

"Okay."

Shane goes on to ask Rick all kinds of questions. What can he remember? How he feels about this or that? Does he dream? What about? And all the while he's keeping an eye on his screens and tapping stuff into his portable. It takes so long that I eventually just sit on the floor against the wall and zone out.

"Honey," I startle and jerk. I must have dozed off. I look up at Shane.

"You look worn out, doll. Want to go have a rest while I finish up with our friend here?"

I nod my head in agreement. I am really tired.

"Remember how to get back to our room?"

I don't. I wasn't paying attention to all of the twists and turns that brought us here.

Standing, I shake my head and ask, "Could I have a map?" I gesture toward his portable screen, "Is there an extra one of those I could borrow?"

"Yeah, but it's in the room," he folds the screen up, "Let’s all take a break. Rick here is good for now. What he experienced earlier was a lag in his sync together with the effects of waking from cryo-stasis. An unlikely and unfortunate convergence of events. He's good now."

"What about his coloring?" I question as we leave out the door of Shane's work area, Rick following behind us like a puppy. "When he woke up, his eyes and skin tone were lighter, and his tattoos were gone. Then he went back to normal."

"Huh," Shane rubs his chin, thinking.

"My pigmentation is an aspect of my sync. If I'm shut down for more than two weeks, it reverts to the original setting. Same thing with the tattoos; it's not really ink, but magnetized pigments. It's changeable and governed by our sync as well," Rick informs and I feel awkward. Was it rude to talk to Shane about Rick right in front of him? Should I direct Rick-related questions to Rick first?

"Neat," Shane interrupts my thoughts and glances at me, "So I guess his looks right now are your ideal preference?" He makes a gesture encompassing his own body, "Not all this?"

I think about my response for a second. If you would have asked me before I got together with Shane what type of looks I prefer in a man, I wouldn't have listed pale, blonde, freckled, blue-eyed. I had dated Black men, mostly. I had a thing with an Asian guy for a couple weeks. I'm not sure though if it was really my preference, or if those are just the types of guys who hit on me, so they are the ones I considered dating material.

I try to be diplomatic in my answer. I can reflect on my preferred type later.

"You are my ideal preference ever since we met," I answer. And it's 100% the truth.

"Then why does he look like that?"

"It would be creepy if he looked like you, wouldn't it? I already have you, so since I get another guy too, he might as well be different, you know, for variety." I think that's true too, but it's not like my conscious mind is always what's governing the sync.

I change the subject, "So, what's the room situation?"

"None of the rooms are set up for occupancy here except ours," Shane answers. "I can get one ready, but I need to eat and get some work done. It'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Who will sleep in this other room?" Rick asks.

Shane stops in his tracks and turns toward Rick, "Do you require sleep?"

"Yes, I sleep."

"Then it’s for you. You can have my bed today, but when the other one is ready, it's yours."

We're all stopped in the hallway next to the cafeteria. Rick folds his arms across his chest, looks at me, then back to Shane and tells him, "I sleep with Honey. We always sleep together."

Shane looks at me trying to read my expression. I keep it carefully blank. I'm not adding anything to this conversation.

"I could see why you have that idea, bud," Shane says, squaring off on Rick, mirroring his stance, "But you're the new guy. Honey and I are married, and we've been together for years. We sleep together."

"I don't know about that," Rick counters, "When I showed up Honey was sleeping alone because you had left for a couple years. I think this is a case of 'move your feet, lose your seat'."

Shane looks outraged, his eyes stormy, "It's more a case of you saving my spot for me."

"I don't like the way this is going," I interject, "I shouldn't have to point out that I'm not a spot or a seat."

Shane turns to me then, his stance still stiff and combative, his eyes turbulent, "I guess it's your decision then. Where is everybody sleeping?"

This is getting annoying. "This is a no win situation for me. I'm not picking. You guys need to work it out. And do it without talking about me like I'm a piece of furniture."

I stomp off toward Shane's room, leaving them to it. As I go they are arguing about ’taking turns’ sounding like two kids fighting over a toy.