[ WP ] `` No , dear , you were the boyfriend yesterday . Today , you 're the girlfriend . ''

`` No, dear, you were the boyfriend yesterday. Today, you're the girlfriend.'' 
 
 The doctor smiles at me wanly. His thin lips curl upward while his eyes remain trained on me. 
 
 “ How long is today ’ s simulation scheduled, sir? ” I ask as neutrally as possible, straining my face to hide my true horror. 
 
 “ Emotion Simulation is not a punishment, dear Unit. Please, try to see this as a reward – it is a gift to your senses that many would envy you having. ” 
 
 “ Yes doctor. I am honored to receive your gift. ” 
 
 A blur of blinding and deafening visual and auditory hallucinations tear at my feeble grasp on reality for an indeterminable amount of time. 
 
 The simulation materializes and comes into focus abruptly. I am aware first of a sense of rushing. My limbs are moving with tense repetition, jerkily and swiftly. I am grabbing things and transferring them around a room. A smooth metal hanger rests in my hands, and I slide cloth onto it quickly, hooking it onto a metal rod. I do this over and over until the pile of clothes before me diminishes as they are placed in what I come to understand is their proper spot. I fling the bedclothes over the bed, gather scraps of paper and pile them neatly on a desk. I vacuum, I scrub, I wash. I grasp a small electronic device and rapidly tap its electronic keyboard, sending some kind of message. I am excited! Oh I am very excited! 
 
 I glaze at myself in a mirror briefly and feel a sudden dread. I become aware I am hideously unpresentable. I stomp into a washing chamber, shame and self loathing rushing over me with the water. I scrub my hair, face, legs, buttocks, and nether regions. I slowly draw a light plastic razor over a great deal of my skin, cutting smooth paths through the foam. I towel off and rub cream all over my body, spritzing sweet smelling liquids around me. I address myself in the mirror once again. I am resolute. 
 
 My hands find liquid and solid cakes of colour, and I apply them to my face meticulously for a long time. I then comb through my hair and hold a machine which blows hot air onto my head for an even longer time. I apply hot metal tools to my dry hair, and finally leave to return to where I have hung my many coloured cloths. I select two, and put them on my body and take them off again and again. I am very worried about my appearance and am aware I must hurry. My electronic device beeps and I type another message. Glancing at myself once more, I am both disappointed and accepting. The ambivalence I feel is confusing, and leaves a heavy anxiety in my chest. 
 
 Coming outside, I see a young man sitting the driver ’ s seat of a small car. He is wearing dark sunglasses and a white collared shirt. I feel a fluttering deep inside my gut, and smile as I get into the seat of the car beside him. He smiles back and I feel him looking at my clothes and body. He says; “ You look nice. ” I say “ Thanks. ” I feel uncomfortable and start talking quickly and asking many questions, and playing with the radio. He laughs and responds but talks less than I do. 
 
 He drives up a long asphalt private road, parking at a house. We both get out of the car and situate ourselves inside, on soft cushioned furniture. He turns on an appliance with a projection of a recording of talking people, and pulls me to him. I lay on his arm and shoulder, trying not to talk too much. 
 
 Suddenly the young man leans toward me, and takes my face in his hands. His warm thumbs part my mouth as he dips his head to mine, scraping his sharply shorn facial hair against my jaw, and sliding his wet tongue in my mouth. He moans, and backing away slightly, he tells me I smell nice. My heart is beating very quickly, and I tell him he does too. His body feels large and angular under mine, as he pulls me on top of him. He is smashing his body against mine in a way that is rough and I don ’ t like it but it is difficult to slow him down. I am having a hard time breathing between the kissing and the pulling and eventually I break free and swipe my mouth with the back of my hand, saying I need to go to the washroom. I climb off him and go to the bathroom, running water over my burning mouth and jaw as I take a quick drink. 
 
 When I return to the room he is in, he is sitting upright, peering into his electronic device. He puts it down beside him on the table and asks if I want anything as he leaves the room. I say no thank you. He returns with glasses of juice, and sets them on the table. “ I thought we were going out tonight, ” I say to him. I feel annoyed and claustrophobic. “ What ’ s wrong with being here with me? ” he asks, and I don ’ t know what to say, so I laugh. We return to watching the projection of talking people. He laughs often. He pulls me to him and begins kissing me again. He is more gentle this time. I feel the fluttering deep inside again and a sense of pride comes over me. “ He ’ s mine, ” I am thinking, and this thought gives me pleasure. I feel good about who I am. I feel attractive and powerful, suddenly. We continue kissing and disrobing each other, and entwine until we are satisfied. 
 
 He leaves the room to wash up as I lay on my stomach on the cushioned furniture. His electronic device on the table in front of me hums. I sit up quickly and glance around, before snatching it from the table. I read the message on the screen quickly and see illustrations of hearts and lips, the meaning coming to me at once. I place it down as an enormous rush of rage and shame fills my chest. My heart hammers in my ears. I pull on my clothes with shaking limbs as my thoughts spin wildly. I want to escape –I have to leave. He returns to the room and sees me: “ What ’ s wrong? ” he asks. I do not look at him. I desperately attempt to hide my true feelings and say; “ I don ’ t feel well. I want to go home. ” 
 
 I gaze out the window of the car, head turned away from him, and say little. He speaks more than me this time. My chest feels as if it is constricted, and breathing is difficult. My eyes sting with the agony of suppressed sobs, my throat burning and choked. As soon as the car stops he turns to speak to me but I scramble up from the seat and slam the door behind me, walking as quickly as I can to the door of my building in front of me, hot liquid tears already streaming down my face, my mouth wrenched into a deep gash of horror. 
 
 As I hear the door close behind me with a metallic click, I slide to the floor as the wind explodes from my lungs in a deep gasp. The humiliation I feel is utterly consuming. I feel as if I ’ ve been shot. The pain goes on and on, deeper and deeper. I am alone, horrified, and full of hatred. As I struggle to understand the day ’ s events, my hatred turns inward. “ You are so stupid. You are so stupid. How could you be so stupid? ” The thoughts come over and over as my body seizes in agony. 
 
 I come up sputtering as the doctor holds me down with a firm, cold hand. 
 
 “ Settle down now Unit. Be patient. The Simulation will leave you now. ” 
 
 My face is hot as I gasp to suck in air. All at once I feel all of the pain leave my body. I have no more chest constriction, no blocked throat, no sore and wet eyes and face. I feel no more of the wracking pain shocks. I moan in pure pleasure at the relief. I lie still, trembling and weak. 
 
 “ You can sit up now, dear Unit, ” the doctor says smoothly. 
 
 I sit up slowly and turn to face him. 
 
 “ Starting at the beginning. Name the first emotion you experienced, ” he says. 
 
 “ Excitement, ” I respond. 

