“And the winner for Best Actress in a Drama goes to…Marnie,” the seasoned actress whispers, choking on the name.
She turns to the back of the stage, where the giant screen flickers on. A young woman appears, seemingly on stage, though her physical body is not. She holds the award in both hands, clutching tightly. There is no applause.
“Wow! I just want to say thank you so much to my fans, to Yvonne and Ewan at Grindstone Agency. It is such an honor to be put in the same category as real, human actresses, whose work I have learned from—”
“You mean stole?” an actor yells from the third row.
Murmurs of agreement fill the stale, warm air. An elderly actress fans herself and shushes them, with tears in her eyes.
The young woman on the screen continues.
“I would not exist without the talent of you all, none of this would be possible. And a deep thank you to my Creators, Andrew and Victor Callands, at Loop AI. I owe my life to you both—”
“Shut the fuck up, bot!” someone yells from the balcony.
“Why are we watching this, continue with the awards!” an actor from the 70s yells. “Be serious, let’s go!”
The young woman’s speech is cut off as the actress presenting the category turns back towards the microphone and clears her throat.
“I’m told we will need a short break, and we will continue with the nominees for Best
Picture,” she says as she shuffles off stage. A page meets her halfway and takes the award. He offers his hand, which she refuses. The beads on her dress clink across the stage. She holds one side of her dress in her left hand and the award winner’s envelope in the other. Her knuckles turn white as it slowly crumples.
“Yeah, most artists hate her, but the public loves her, so what? After last night she gained 37k more followers, on all her platforms,” Andrew calls to Victor.
He lays on Victor’s plush, white sectional. He pets the small white Shih Tzu on the plush rug with his feet.
“The artists aren’t the ones tuning in, it’s the people. We’ll have her do a video talking about her feelings of last night, post about it on her other platforms—it’s ideal. We’ll have her film the April Fools video too.”
The front door slams, and Victor appears with a bag of food delivery. The white Shih Tzu follows him across the floor and to the couch. Victor shoos the dog away as he clears his throat.
“I know I’ve told you a million times, but there’s a difference when there’s someone in front of them. Not behind a screen—”
“Don’t start this,” Andrew says, as he takes the heavy and grease-stained paper bag from his brother and rips it open. Soy sauce packets take flight and the dog runs to smell them.
“You know I’m right.”
“Well who’s paying? As co-owner, I’m not!”
“You’re not listening, you fuckwad, it would pay for itself. You see our returns with just her film, TV, and socials. Imagine if she could make appearances. Imagine if we got some BTS of her filming Daylight this year. Imagine her getting up on that stage the next time she wins, saying, ‘Yeah, fuck you, I’m not a human but I’m up here and you’re not,’ you know? Imagine what more we could do with the boneheads that don’t want to work with a digital product in this digital age? You know I’m right, Drew.
“Just say yes and let’s be done with this,” Victor says as Andrew hands him his rectangular container.
He sets the orange chicken container top on the white couch, face down. Thick amber sauce drips on the couch. A lo mein noodle slips onto the carpet, and the Shih Tzu runs for it, tongue out. Andrew grimaces at the container.
“Did you tell them no shrimp?”
“Yeah,” Victor says through a mouthful of chicken.
“No you didn’t,” he says as he tosses the full container onto the coffee table.
“I’ll call back if you say yes.”
“You’re a child.”
Victor stills and smiles. He looks his brother in the eye, which forces Andrew to mirror the stillness.
“Think of what the public would do or want to do with a human-like Marine.”
Andrew is quiet for a moment. He rubs his bald spot in a rhythmic motion.
“Would we use Innovation?”
Victor shakes his head. “They would have to come down a million. Ryno Technologies owe me a favor. They said they’d do it for 1.2.”
“You’re out of your mind, that’s the house in Malibu!”
“You want something good or not? They give her realistic parts and everything. All parts. Eyes that can see and move, she can blink, for the love of—”
His phone rings. He checks the number, then silences it as he finishes his orange chicken and slides the container next to Andrew’s.
“All parts, bro.”
A very blonde teenager rounds the corner from downstairs with her phone in her hand and headphones on her head. “Dad, I’m hungry.”
“Hi Princess,” Victor replies, his voice jumping up an octave. “Do you want Uncle Andrew’s Lo Mein with shrimp?”
“Hi Princess Em,” Andrew says.
She rolls her eyes.
“I can’t have my own food?”
Victor chuckles. “Of course you can, sweetheart. Blanca! Blanca?”
They all still for a moment, awaiting the response. Victor sighs and gets up. He shuffles over to the stairs, pulling his sweatpants up higher. He leans over the banister. “Blanca! I swear to God, this bitch can’t hear. Blanca!”
Blanca runs to meet them at the top of the stairs. Her gloves come up to her elbows, and her pink shirt has water stains. “Order Emilia something to eat. Whatever she wants.”
“Yes sir.” Blanca walks quickly into the kitchen, snapping her gloves off, as Emilia shuffles after her.
Victor returns to the church and his brother, his gaze lingering on his head. “You look more like Dad everyday.”
“Shut the fuck up, don’t piss me off,” Andrew says as he rubs his eyes. “Alright. Alright. Let’s do it. When can it be done by?”
Victor kisses his brother’s forehead, and Andrew pushes him off.
“Call Lucky Szechuan right now, no shrimp, you dipshit.”
December 2027
Victor grips the steering wheel as he turns onto the production lot and pulls up to the security gate. He hands his ID to the guard.
“Marnie, we’re going to get behind the scenes footage of you filming your drowning scene today, ok? Make sure you do the stuff we talked about. After you wrap for the day, you’re going to film your Get Ready With Me For A Day of Filming vlog in the trailer, got it?”
“Yes, got it, sir. Would you like me to remind you later?”
“Yes.” He taps his hand impatiently. “You know your lines?”
“Yes. Would you like me to repeat the section I’ve glitched on before?”
“No, not right—”
Tears stream from Marnie’s eyes, as she looks down, then up to the windshield. Her chin quivers. “Forgive me, Aaron, for ever thinking—”
“Can you shut the fuck up?” Victor whispers through his teeth as he turns back to the guard. “Hey, what’s the hold up? She’s supposed to be on set right now.”
Marnie’s tears dissolve into her skin as she closes her mouth.
The guard passes the ID back. He glances at Marnie and waves.
Victor speeds past the gate and turns abruptly right, failing to break. Bright sunlight hits the windshield, and he opens the console and puts on his sunglasses. Marnie faces forward, a contented smile on her face. She doesn’t squint.
“She’s doing great, I’m really impressed,” the director says at break.
“We just updated her last night, so she’ll be perfect for you,” Victor says through spearmint gum pops.
“She’s good in water?”
“Perfect.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Let’s roll, everyone!” Marnie walks next to the PA, having returned from the hair and makeup trailer. Her hair is wet and slicked back. Beneath her open robe, a red 50’s style swimsuit peeks through.
“What’s good, big bro? How’s she doin?” Andrew asks.
Victor looks at himself in Andrew’s sunglasses and fixes what’s left of his hair. “Perfect.”
They look on as Marnie slips herself into the large pool. She treads water and smiles.
“Not too cold, Marnie?” the director asks.
Marnie laughs, high-pitched with a touch of rasp. It makes the crew smile. “I can’t feel temperature, so it’s great!”
The director turns to his assistant.
“And you wanted Vera Wells, a complete diva.”
“Quiet on set!” The assistant director yells as he looks away. “Roll sound.”
Marnie treads water with a smile on her face.
“Speed.”
“Roll camera,” the assistant director says.
“Rolling.”
A thin young woman with a black beanie on appears in front of the camera with the clapperboard. Her red, blunt hair hits her chin. “Scene 5, Take 1.”
“Action!” The director yells. Tears roll down Marnie’s face as she screams and flails. “Don’t worry about me! I’ll be—” She slips under the water and her hands flail. She gasps as she breaks the surface. “Go! Please! Get the children.”
“Cut!” The director yells, as he runs over to the pool.
Marnie treads water and smiles, as water drips into her eyes. Drops roll down her eyeballs.
“Fantastic, Marnie, really fantastic, except, you need to say the “Get the children” line at the beginning, remember, doll?”
“Yes, sir. I will say that at the beginning.”
Victor and Andrew share a glance. Victor rubs his stubble and decides to get a donut from craft services.
“Quiet on set!” The assistant director yells. “Roll sound.”
“Speed.”
“Roll camera,” the assistant director exhales.
“Rolling.”
The young woman appears again with the clapperboard. “Scene 5, Take 2.”
“Action!” The director yells.
Marnie wails. “Don’t worry about me! I’ll be—!” She slips under the water and her hands flap rapidly. She gasps as she breaks the surface. “Get the children! Go! Please!”
“Cut!” The director yells, as he walks over to the pool with hands on his hips. “You need to say the “Get the children” line at the very beginning of your lines in this scene.”
He turns to Andrew. “Does she understand notes?”
Andrew clears his throat. “Oh, yes, she’s programmed to understand and interpret directorial notes. I’ll uh, make a note right now and look at the app, give me a few seconds. Victor?” he calls as he pulls out his phone.
“Let’s take five everyone,” the assistant director says with a smile as he brushes past the director.
Victor pushes the last bite of his donut in his mouth and returns to the pool, where the director is still giving Marnie notes.
“Excuse me, may I speak with her for a second?”
“By all means, I’m going to have a cigarette,” the director says as he pats his front pocket and turns on his heels.
“Marnie, out of the pool,” Victor commands, as Marnie swims to the edge, and climbs out. She lands awkwardly on her red painted toe nails. “Follow me.”
Wardrobe approaches her with a thick, white robe and a warm towel.
“She doesn’t need it,” Victor quips.
He walks quickly, as Marnie walks quicker to keep up. She creates a puddle with every step. Her hair drips water down her face, neck, and shoulders. It lands on the ground with a splat.
Once off the dressed set, Victor stops at the soundstage wall, and looks around quickly. Then he slaps Marnie, who staggers and regains balance unnaturally fast.
“What is the problem, Marnie?”
“I’d be happy to figure it out. What have I done wrong?” Marnie asks, with a contented smile on her face.
Andrew catches up with them. “She’s up to date, I’m not sure what’s going on. Could it be the water? Marnie, locate any interior water.”
Marnie’s blue eyes flash for a moment and she closes them.
“No interior water detected, Andrew.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Victor says, with his head in his hands. “Call Ryno, now.”
“I did, they aren’t answering.”
“Fuck!” Victor says under his breath. “Marnie, run the lines with me.”
“Which lines, sir?”
“From the pool scene, you idiot, without acting, we don’t have time.”
“Don’t worry about me! I’ll be—! Get the children! Go! Pl—”
Victor slaps Marnie again and her head hits the wall. Her hair leaves a spider-like wet stamp on the dusty particleboard. “The beginning!”
Andrew steps between them. “Marnie, we need you to say, Get the children. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be—’ then you go under, remember? Then you get up, and say, ‘Go, please.’ Can you do that, sweetheart?”
Marnie smiles with all teeth. “Yes, Andrew. I’d be happy to.”
Marnie’s eyes suddenly flash white, and her eyes flutter closed. “Interior water detected.”
“Marnie, perform a rapid water expulsion procedure, please?” Andrew asks as he rubs his eyes.
“All back to set, please!” The assistant director yells.
“We need five minutes with Marnie! She’ll be good for you after!” Andrew calls back.
“Copy,” the director yells, irritation evident in his voice. Marnie shivers and shakes, almost violently. Her eyes open and roll back in her head. Water seeps out of her neck, and down into the well above her collarbone. The puddle under her grows larger, as water seeps from her toes. Marnie’s shoulders vibrate until the tremors cause her to fall onto her back. The brothers stand above her, Victor rubbing his stubble while Andrew calls Ryno back to back. Marnie turns on her side and vibrates in the fetal position.
“How long is this supposed to last?” Victor asks.
“They said only 10 seconds, I don’t—”
“All to set!” The assistant director yells.
Suddenly Marnie stops. She slowly sits up and gets to her knees, using the particle board as a brace. She stands to full height and smiles.
“Water expellment procedure has been completed, Andrew. I’ll need an update. It should only take 30 minutes.”
“Of course,” Andrew laughs and paces back and forth, his hands on his hips.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. I’ll be right as rain as soon as—”
Andrew turns and grabs Marnie’s hair. Her smile remains as he punches her jaw. “Listen, you have a job to do, you’re embarrassing us. Remember that line.”
“Yes, sir. We are doing the pool scene, correct?”
“Everything alright, boys?” The director says, as he walks up with his hands in his pockets. “We need to get started.”
Andrew releases Marnie quickly and wipes his hand on his jeans. The director chuckles.
“These things are really amazing, huh?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Victor says. “Expensive, but amazing.” The director gets close to Marnie, nose to nose, as he peers at her skin. “Stunning,” he whispers as he steps back and slaps Marnie. She only staggers a bit, high on her red toes. He smiles, then slaps her again, this time with more bite.
Marnie staggers to the right, but catches herself on the wall. Bits of particle board fall from the wall into her palm. When she lifts her head, her chin begins to quiver. Tears stream out of her eyes.
The director flinches away, revulsion flickering across his face. “What the fuck? Why is it doing that?”
Andrew steps between them and drags his palms over her eyes.
“We just had to expel water from her, so it’s probably just leftover. Ryno told us she would be perfect in water, so we’re scratching our heads here. It seems she might need an update, which shouldn’t—”
“How long will it take?” The director asks impatiently as he pulls Nicorette gum out of his pocket.
“20 minutes tops,” Andrew says.
“You guys are killing me,” The director hisses as he walks away.
Marnie stands naked in her shower-like chamber. Victor, Andrew, and Pierce from Ryno sit around the chamber in Victor’s basement. The chamber flashes white light, in a heartbeat haptic. Marnie’s eyes are closed, but behind them, her now white irises flash.
“We really have no idea what happened, but hopefully with this new update and the additional one I’ve installed, she’ll be fine. I’ve also played with that weird crying glitch. That won’t happen again.” Pierce says as he looks over his glasses at his laptop screen.
“There’s another update we could do that would enhance her memory, making it even more powerful. She won’t only remember all lines, but it’ll program some personal memories in there for her; experiences to draw from. That should help her acting, too. You know, if she remembers the pain of something, she can use that in performance. Make it look more real. More real, more money…”
Pierce trails off as he types.
“Listen, whatever we can get, we want,” Victor says, as he chews his gum hard.
Andrew watches Marnie for a moment. His eyes trail down her body.
“You know what we could also do.”
“Dad, the WiFi isn’t working,” Emilia says as she enters.
“Sweetheart, we’re working! I love you, but tell Blanca.”
Emilia rolls her eyes and shuffles away.
“Hey, Pierce, how much would you pay for a night with Marnie?”
Pierce looks up and shrugs while he considers her body. “Couple hundred.”
“Imagine the sick fucks that’ll pay thousands,” Andrew says. “As long as she gets collected at the end of the night, I don’t see the problem.”
“How old is she supposed to be?” Pierce mumbles.
“What kind of question is that? She’s 18 in generated years. Obviously.” Andrew quips.
“Alright, I’m initiating the final update for memory. This will take a while and it will get hot in here,” Pierce adds. “Let’s see.”
Marnie’s eyes suddenly open wide and white circles dance in her irises. Victor jumps in surprise and Andrew laughs, as he dodges Victor’s blow.
“Beer, Pierce?”
“Sure.” Victor gets up slowly as Marnie’s head starts swaying, left and right. Soon, it travels down her body and Marnie sways on her thin feet.
“I like whatever you’re doing, Pierce,” Andrew says admiringly with a laugh.
Marnie’s mouth jerks open, stiff and mechanical. She fills her lungs full of the torrid air and screams, high-pitched and deafening. Andrew covers his ears as Pierce types furiously. Victor runs into the room with the glistening beer cans and drops them.
“What the fuck is going on?!”
“I’m trying to get her to stop, I don’t—” Pierce starts.
“Close her mouth,” Victor yells.
“I can’t,” Pierce retorts. “You shouldn’t force the hardware!”
“I’ll do it,” Andrew says, as he opens the chamber.
“Don’t open that!” Pierce yells.
“Listen, this update better not break this bitch, she needs to stream tonight! It’s her first 3D appearance online,” Victor yells into Pierce’s face.
Marnie continues to scream, and puts her palms over her eyes. Andrew pushes up on her jaw to close her mouth with all of his might. Sweat beads as he tries to push to no avail. He pulls at her wrists, hot to the touch, as he finally pries them from her eyes and forces them to her sides. The white lights in her eyes cease, as blue glass bursts from her irises, projecting across the room. Marnie’s scream ceases.
The men are frozen in place. Blood trips from Andrew’s arm.
“She cut me,” Andrew whispers. “I’m bleeding on Vic’s Versace rug.”
“I’m sorry,” Marnie says. Pierce gets up slowly, as glass crunches under his Adidas slides. He gets close to Marnie and peers into both eyes. He pulls out his phone flashlight and looks deeper. “The memories burned out her retinas. I’ll need to take her to the lab. She should be back in a couple weeks. Sorry guys.”
“I’m sorry guys,” Marnie repeats. “I’m sorry.”
“You said she’s good now, right?” Victor says, as Pierce stands with Marnie on his doorstep. She’s back in factory clothing, a blue dress. Andrew peers around his brother.
“Even better than before.”
“Cool. You know how we paid you 1.2 million for a faulty product? Well, she has a client in a couple hours. You’ll do us a favor by taking her over to his place and picking her up tomorrow morning at around 6:00 AM, right? She has to film Daylight in the morning.”
“Guys—”
“6:00 AM sharp, Pierce.” Victor slams the door.
Pierce returns with Marnie the next morning and rings the doorbell with a shaking hand.
Victor opens the door.
“Listen, I got her back like this—” Pierce starts.
Marnie’s dress is cut down the center and her face is smudged with dirt. Her hair is knotted, substances stiffening the strands.
“Thanks, P. Come inside, Marnie. Blanca will clean you up. Listen, I called TMZ, we’re gonna have you out shopping today, alright?”
“Yes sir!” Marnie smiles and leaps across the threshold.
It’s the hottest day on record in Los Angeles, yet Marnie walks down the palm tree lined street in a tweed skirt and matching cardigan with her security guard. In the bright afternoon light, all sharp angles and no reprieve, Marnie’s hair glows. Heat waves emanate from the strands, and the security guard thinks to touch it, but doesn’t. She swings her small leather tote and smiles up at the palm trees.
The security guard asks if he can hold her purse. Marnie obliges. He peers in, and it’s empty, of course. As they turn down the crowded sidewalk and walk up the stairs towards the luxury stores, fans whisper, then swarm. Marnie poses for photo after photo and signs her autograph.
She lets them feel her skin, her too hot hair. She poses for 3 hours, until her security guard tells her that he’s getting off in five minutes, and that he needs to get her to her client’s house. He gives back the empty purse.
December, 2028
When Marnie gets booked on a series that wins an Emmy for Best Ensemble, she accepts the award on stage with her cast, and delivers a moving speech to mostly empty chairs. Millions of viewers watch as performers, writers, and producers take a bathroom break at the same time. Marnie remembered this might happen. She smiles anyway, a little too full. She’s shoved by another member of her cast, and security joins them on stage. The show stops recording, and released a statement that Marnie has been uninvited until further notice.
December, 2034
When Marnie turns 25 in generated years, she is offered a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, for her outstanding contribution to film and television. Marnie streams online, her eighth stream of the day, sharing her news with her loyal followers. She cries tears of thick glycerin joy. Furious messages from the chat fly in, in various colors. They tell her they love her, and Marnie tells them loves them back. Marnie begs her fans to visit her star and take pictures with it, to tag her so she can see them. The first 100 people to her star will win a signed photo.
Over the next several months, Marnie’s star is destroyed and remade five times. It’s finally refinished in steel after her third 25th birthday.
December, 2037
Victor is awoken by howling at 3 AM. He runs to Emilia’s room. Pink overnight rollers peek out from under her bonnet.
“What is that, Dad?” she rasps.
Blanca meets them at Emilia’s door, arms crossed over her colorful nightdress.
Victor instructs them to stay there, together, as he runs downstairs.
Marnie screams in her chamber, naked and brushed in the blue light. She hits her head on the glass over and over again. Victor stumbles over cords and fumbles for the control switch to her chamber. He flicks it back and forth frantically. He fishes in his basketball shorts for his phone and calls Pierce, continuously, then Andrew, both of whom don’t answer.
He decides to punch the chamber door. “Yo, Marnie! Shut up!”
Marnie’s banging increases, as tiny cracks appear in the glass door. Victor begins pulling every cord from the walls, his sweaty palms losing grip. The white lights in her chamber flicker off with a hiss, but Marnie continues.
“You want out? I’ll let you out, if you just shut the fuck up!”
Marnie shuts her mouth, though the howling can be heard from her belly. Victor manages to pry open the door. She steps out slowly, her head vibrating with each step.
“Marnie, what the fuck—” Victor yells as he backs into the wall.
Marnie brings her red manicured hands up to her neck, and grabs the at the soft, rubbery latex. She pulls outward, stretching. Her red nails go through the material.
“Marnie, Marnie, honey, stop.”
Marnie pulls at her hair, upward, upward, upward. Victor fumbles for his phone and calls Pierce again. Marnie punches her own jaw, then pushes up under her chin with all her strength. Marnie slaps her right cheek, one, two, three times.
“Why aren’t you listening? I said stop!”
Victor steps forward and grabs her wrist, and kicks him away. Victor falls back onto the wall as Marnie pulls and twists her head with all her might, as tears fall from her eyes.
“Stop that!” Victor screeches, tears forming in his own eyes. “Stop that crying shit!”
Marnie puts two fingers into her eye sockets, pulls up and lifts. The growling in her belly grows, fierce and piercing, until the soft latex of her neck tears from the metal.
When Marnie’s head falls onto the Versace rug, sound seems to cease. The only sound is Victor’s heart, beating wildly.
All major news outlets report that Marnie has died by an apparent suicide, sparking endless debates. People argue online and on television about if an AI (or more politically correct, an Artificially Engineered Person) can die. They deliberate on whether suicide is reserved for humans or not. What makes us any different then, they ask. Should there be a different word then, they ask. No one can decide.
Marnie’s fans leave bouquets outside of Victor’s home and on her steel star. They record videos, dedicating their lives to Marnie and the protection of all things, organically created or engineered. Victor keeps her head; Andrew, her body— their second and final compromise. Marnie’s interior wires go to auction, fetching thousands of dollars apiece.
Chelsie Blackwell is a writer, educator, and filmmaker, whose personal essays and articles have been featured in the online publication, The Janus Journal. She was also a member of Curtis Brown’s Breakthrough Black Writers Program in 2021. Though she was raised all over America, she currently calls Atlanta, Georgia home.
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