The small bakery remained nestled between life and death, a cordoned-off district with towering homes above the thin slice of cake that represented the storefront. Most visitors to the Gumdrop Bakery were from the adoption centre or the morgue, but occasionally others from deeper in the city would make a special trip. Just to taste a small measure of imperfection in their relatively mathematically-defined lives.

Thanking the customer for coming, Enis Hunter moved to shift the scanner closer so they could pay. A simple beep echoed out, and the money was exchanged in an instant. With their newly-purchased handmade cupcakes, the nursemaid let out a satisfied hum of delight as the dry treat coated her tongue with the rush of sweetness.

“They just don’t make them this way anymore. It’s all about that ‘mathematically perfect’ with the oven at home. I call him Carl, by the way. Carl just doesn’t understand, it’s not about it being perfect. It just doesn’t have the love, the imperfections that only a human can provide.” The woman let out a depressed sigh as Enis moved to give a dry smirk.

“Wow, thanks. No discount for you next time.” The joke landed well, and the two shared a chuckle. Even with all her skill, both of them had long accepted the simple fact: there was no way for a human to ever reach the perfection a computer could systematically achieve. But in that face was peace, a truth that could not be replicated by machine no matter what they did. Imperfection could not be replicated, only a pale imitation of it.

It could be said humans were perfect at being imperfect.

“Well, I need to get back to things. The end of the day can’t come any sooner, I tell you.” With a wave, the woman dragged herself toward the door. Watching her go was an exercise in caution as her body swayed rhythmically with each step before vanishing behind the closed door. A soft hum escaped Enis as her mind pictured someone else leaving, briefly lost in a fantasy that suddenly became reality.

The glasses of the brown-haired woman as they entered briefly reflected the light from outside as they moved to close the door gently behind them. They jolted as a whistle escaped the lips of the baker, taking her eyes up and down the suit and tie they were wearing. With their short hair neatly done up, they were the picture of official.

“You look so professional. So what will it be today?” Moving to lean down, Enis brought out two cupcakes. One blue, and one pink. The woman regarded them for a moment with hesitation, before taking the pink one and giving a few timid bites. Enis took the other with a chuckle, swiping her card to pay for both of them.

“I-I’ve actually been thinking of getting a neck collar, or some sort of wrist brace. Something to help others easily tell,” they spoke quietly as a hand briefly adjusted their hair.

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“What about a clip-on skirt? You could add it on and off when needed. ‘Oh, Port is wearing a skirt today, must be a girl.’ No offence.” Moving over to the traditional oven, Enis checked on the treats cooking. Having something baking ensured the café always had that baking smell.

“See, I considered that. But what if I want to just wear a skirt as a guy? I know it’s weird but sometimes I just want to wear a skirt.” Licking the crumbs off their fingers, Port tossed the wrapping into the nearby bin. A small display on the lid briefly illuminated with a number: 10. A brief smile of satisfaction filled her.

“Nice job, a tenner. I’d say the wrist straps would be best. Although…” A smirk filled her face as she glanced over briefly. “I do enjoy the image of you in a collar.” That one comment sent an explosive flush of fire to the green-eyed face of Port. A whine escaped them as they hid behind their hands in first-hand embarrassment.

“Eniiiiis! You can’t just say that in public!” Mumbling jitters left them as they grumbled and sulked behind their hands, much to the chagrin of the baker. The matter resolved itself rather quickly, her mind moving to the other, more important, matter at hand, a comfortable silence stretching as they spent the moment with their thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking of signing up for the monster program,” Enis spoke, chewing idly on her cheek as she brought out the pamphlet.

“No, absolutely not. Didn’t you see the news? If they don’t kill you, the protestors just might.” Port moved forward and leaned over with a firm expression. A breath of incredulity left Enis in response.

“Aren’t you working on the immigration? Tell me, have there been any issues? Any monsters causing problems?” The room heated briefly as they both stubbornly refused to budge on the issue, indecision turning to a stubborn desire to resist and rebel against the other.

“Yes, which is why I’m against it! You don’t know what you’re signing up for! What if you get a terrible one and it threatens you? Just because they’re behaving so far doesn’t mean the one you get will! They’re dangerous creatures that are only obeying because we forcibly limit their power!” A hand pressed down on the countertop between them, each line Port uttered causing her voice to echo with more and more stress and panic.

“So they haven’t done anything then? You’re just afraid of them because of what they are? Do you remember how hard you had to fight to get your family to see you for who you are!?” The words slammed through the paranoia and fear like bullets, and Enis watched Port flinch in response. A brief, tense silence followed.

“I…The difference is we’re all human. They’re monsters. Even if they act like us: they differ in so many ways. It’s so subtle that it catches me by surprise every time. It’s like I’m speaking to an alien.” Each word tumbled out as Port tried to match words to the overwhelming fear that infused her at this conversation.

“We’re the aliens here, Port, remember?” Leaning back, Enis rubbed her temple and turned away.

Another brief moment of silence passed.

“It’s not as if we’re any better, you know. I know how some of those super soldiers act. Blood hungry, vicious. Monstrous. Can you really still say we’re that different?” Placing the pamphlet down, Enis turned to head toward the other end of the counter as a gentle bell announced a customer, quietly discussing their order while Port stared down at the pamphlet.

‘Willing to give peace a chance? Sign up now for the Monster immigration program.’ Those words haunted her eyes, burning into her as she was forced to turn her head away. The bakery turned silent as the customer soon left with their order.

“…I don’t want to lose you, Enis…” Moisture formed on the edges of Port’s eyes but was quickly blinked back and forced away. But Enis had seen it, and her expression softened.

“You’re not going to lose me…but I want to do this.” She reached over and ran a hand through Port’s hair.

“Alright…”