Two couples had them. Mary and Jason, Monica and Henry. They both had loving David, but could not keep them. As Monica abandoned her David, Mary and Jason sent it back to the company to be destroyed for the trouble it caused for their daughter, and for them. Four years has passed, and now Jason and Mary have decided to start again. A new prototype has been offered to them: Diane, the Omni mecha.

Diane looked around the home of her new parents. It comfortable, she suspected. She wasn’t sure if that was particularly the right world. On one of the walls were pictures of a little boy, with blonde hair, and gentle, blue eyes. She ran her finger over his face. “David,” she whispered.

The door opened. She turned around and watched the couple walk through the door.

“Well, Jason, I don’t think…” She stopped when she saw Diane.

“We’ll talk about this later, Mary.” The man looked at her. “Well, hello.” He looked around, concerned.

“I came in through the back door,” Diane explained.

“Oh, well…” He ushered his wife in then closed the door. “That’s fine. Um…” He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair.

“Hello, Diane,” Mary said, smiling at her. “You can come upstairs.” Diane followed her. “Jason, can you tell mark we’re here?”

“Sure. I’ll be up in a moment.”

Mary turned back to Diane. “Now, your room is down the hallway. The bathroom is just two doors down your room.”

“I guarantee I won’t need it.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Mary put her hands together, and looked around. “There are clothes in the closet, and you can…um, do whatever you like okay?”

“I understand, Mary.”

“Good. Alright…so I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Wait, Mary. Who is the little boy in the photograph downstairs? Were you his nanny?”

Mary looked uneasily down the rail of the staircase. “Oh, no. No, he was our friend’s son. David was his name.” She gave a small smile then made her way back downstairs.

Diane walked into the room. The walls were a sky blue and covered with posters of ancient, famous figures. Einstein, Mozart, Steve Jobs, Neil Armstrong… On the dresser was a picture of a girl with long, brown hair, and blue eyes. She was smiling with a boy about the same age. Diane slightly cocked her head at the picture.

“That’s Sarah. My sister,” said a voice behind her. She quickly turned around. A tall boy, about fifteen years old stood there, with his hands in his pockets. He was looking around the room.

“Hello, Mark,” Diane said.

He didn’t look at her, but instead, nodded. “Hi.”

“Where is your sister? I didn’t see her, or hear her name.”

Mark shuffled his feet uncomfortably then leaned on the frame of the door. “She died four years ago.”

Diane looked at the picture, then back at Mark. He wasn’t smiling, and his hair fell over his eyes.

“Is this you?”

He nodded. “She was my twin.”

“You look…sad. Is that what you’re feeling?”

Mark turned around, and walked away. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.