Aloud doing in her head?
Yeah. Right. Finally! I’m merely a representation of the machine’s mental interface, babe. You just listen up and Cheryl will give you an exclusive.
‘This machine?’ Emma shook it. Her head filled with a shriek.
Hold on there, sister! That will not happen again! Understand? You get me, you stupid little bitch?
‘Oi!’ Emma was outraged. ‘Why are you in my head? What are you?’
The voice seemed calmer, more soothing.
Well now. This will take some explaining. Shall we go somewhere warm and snug so we can get to know each other better?
‘What about the body I found y—?’ Emma didn’t even get to finish the sentence.
Oh, don’t worry about that – that was just a civilian. It brought me ashore. It’ll wake up in a bit, go home, get some kip, forget all this happened. Now come on – let’s get back to your charming one-bedroom flat in Grangetown with an eighty-five per cent mortgage and talk about the future. Let’s just say there’s a lot in it for you, Emma darling.
‘What?’ Cheryl had an odd way of speaking, thought Emma.
Hey, sorry, babe. It’s just my way. Forgive me, yeah? Cheryl is your favourite, isn’t she? Would you prefer if I was Nicola?
Emma thought about it. ‘No,’ she said.
So, Emma found herself turning away from the woman’s body and walking off the beach and back to her flat. Oddly, neither she nor the machine spoke to each other on the way – although the voice was humming along to the tune on her iPod. Thinking about it, Emma couldn’t remember much about the walk. But suddenly there she was, sat on her sofa, staring at her coffee table which contained the machine and a mug of her favourite instant hot chocolate (Midnight Orange Murmur, since you ask).
Well now, this is cosy.
‘Yeah,’ said Emma, feeling a touch defensive.
But it could be better. Don’t yer think? There was something about the voice – it was all caring and bright, but there was a real touch of steel behind it. But perhaps that was just Cheryl. And that’s what I’m here for. Let’s just say I’m a real dream machine, sweetheart.
‘So, you’re like a genie? And I get three wishes?’
A tinkle of laughter. Oh, Emma, honey, you get waaaaay more than three wishes. I just have to look into your mind and I can give you what you want. I can make you what you’ve always dreamed of. Taller, thinner, better hair. Darling, there’s no limit to what you can achieve with knockout tits and a nice smile.
Emma reached out a trembling hand for her mug and took an uncertain sip of her chocolate. There was an excited fluttering in her stomach. ‘Really? Does it hurt? How much does it cost?’
Ah, that’s the best bit. There’s no cost. I’m just chuffed to be able to help. And it’s started already. Want to see what you can look like? Go on girl – take a butcher’s in the mirror.
Emma stood up and crossed to the wicker-framed lounge mirror. And she dropped her mug in shock. She bolted off to the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth. She scrubbed away at the carpet, staring at herself in the mirror and repeating over and over ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god’ while the voice of Cheryl giggled delightedly in her head.
When she was eventually satisfied that there wouldn’t be a stain, she stood up, nervously straightening out her jogging trousers and staring at herself. She turned sideways and then sneaked a look at her bum.
And, finally, Emma laughed. She was suddenly gorgeous. Her figure was firmer, taller, and her eyes bluer – and yet she was still herself. She felt warm and confident and brilliant, and her skin was radiant.
And that, Em, is just the start of what we can do. We’re gonna have such a laugh. Things are going to be just perfect.
GWEN IS LATE FOR WORK
Gwen was late for reasons that bored even her. She briefly toyed with an apology to Jack that took in Rhys’s eccentric approach to whites-only laundry, but figured ‘life is too, too short’. So she slumped down at her desk, grabbed a bite of her Greggs pastry thing, logged in to the baffling swirl of her Torchwood desktop, and then noticed the New And Upsetting Thing.
‘Er, hello!’ she said, grinning broadly at the stunning woman tidying a workstation.
The woman looked up briefly, smiled weakly, and went back to watering the plants.
Bitch,