Spare

Glossy pink lips spoke into the microphone. “Everyone’s scared of losing what makes us human. But you know what? No one can take that from us. All technology can do is fix humanity, not replace it. And God knows we could use a little fixing.”

Seconds later, screams erupted in waves through the crowd. People surged toward the exits, trampling over one another before the stampede took them too. The lights cut out, but sparks still burst from the stage rig above, casting quick flashes over the wreckage. For an instant, Lia Vox’s blood shone red under the debris.

Videos of the collapse flooded social media within minutes. Within an hour, every major news network was reporting on how America’s hottest popstar and tech advocate had gone from limelight to life support.

———

Lia pried her eyes open to find a nurse scribbling on a clipboard a few feet away. She made eye contact with Lia and yelled out for the doctor to come right away. Lia tried to sit up and groaned. Every inch of her ached, and her head pounded with each blink. The overhead lights seemed to make the stark white room glow.

“Easy now,” the nurse said, rushing to her side. “You’re lucky to be alive. We lost you for a minute, but the doctor brought you back.”

Lia stared at the nurse blankly. “What happened?”

The nurse just shook her head and stared at the door. “The doctor is almost here.” She handed her a chrome tray with a cup of juice on it.

Lia took a deep breath and braced herself to sit up again. When she did, she caught a glance at her reflection in the tray. It was… flawless. She felt like she had taken a sledgehammer to the face, but there wasn’t so much as a dark circle or crease to be found. She looked like someone who had just stepped out of a photo shoot, not woken up in a hospital bed.

A figure appeared in the doorway. “Ms. Vox?” A man with gray hair combed back stepped from the dark hallway into the sterile room.

The nurse straightened. “Doctor—”

He raised a hand to cut her off. “How are you feeling, Ms. Vox?”

“Awful. What happened to me? Where am I?”

“You’re at a private facility,” he said, tapping on a tablet. “A place where people like you can recover without the press swarming the door. Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was… talking to the crowd. Then everything went black. And then… then I woke up here. How long was I out?”

The doctor flashed his veneers. “Long enough. You’re doing remarkably well. I’m clearing you for discharge.”

Lia frowned. “Already? You don’t have to run any more tests or anything?”

“Oh no, we ran those before we got you back online.” He winked and turned to walk out the door. He paused at the doorframe with his back turned and said, “By the way, your new single shot up to #1 on the charts after the accident and stayed there. And it’s been six weeks.”

“Six weeks?” Lia shouted as the white coat slipped out of view.

———

Lia waved as the driver pulled away from her gate. Her hands were empty, but her mind buzzed. Six weeks. What had she missed? What had people been saying? She reached for the front door just as it swung open.

“Darling!” Stacy Slate wrapped her in a brisk hug that smelled like perfume and stress. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess. I’m not in any pain. But no one’s told me what actually happened.”

Stacy bit her lip. “Freak accident, really. Something with the speaker rig above the stage. I fired the sound crew, obviously. It won’t happen again.”

Lia held out her arms, studying them. “I don’t even have a bruise.”

“The best doctors money can buy, honey. Now, listen. You look amazing, you sound amazing. The network wants you back on stage next week, and I agree. It’s time. The fans need you.”

“I do feel fine, but isn’t this a bit fast? Are you sure I should get back on stage already? I mean, did the doctors even clear me for this yet?”

Stacy waved her away. “It’s all sorted out. All you have to do is show up and use that pretty voice of yours.” She glanced down at her phone. “Alright, you’re good, so I’m heading out. Dinner with that biopic director. For you, of course. Ciao!”

The door slammed before Lia could answer. She shuffled into the living room and dropped onto the white leather couch. The moonlight coming in through the skylights made it glow silver. She called out, “Iris, please—”

The living room lit up instantly. “Welcome home, Lia,” a digital voice replied.

She froze. How did it know what I was going to say? Man, she thought. These AIs are getting too smart.

———

Lia woke on the couch to sunlight cutting through the skylight. The horizon burned orange, painting streaks of fire across the clouds. She squinted at the time on her phone: 6:00 a.m.

A message from Stacy blinked on the screen. “Btw come 2 studio at 7am. Need 2 catch up on album recording. XO”

Lia groaned. So much for rest.

She caught her reflection in the entryway mirror and stopped. Her hair looked professionally styled. Her skin glowed. She hadn’t worn makeup in days, but somehow she looked camera-ready.

She brushed her teeth, threw on clothes, and left within ten minutes, still wondering why she couldn’t look this good when she did put effort in.

———

“...so keep pretending I’m real,” Lia sang into the microphone, pulled off her headphones. “Alright. I know I’m rusty, you can be honest with me, Joe. How bad was that?”

Joe grinned. “Rusty? That was perfect. You didn’t miss a note. I could send this to the radio right now.”

The door behind him opened as Stacy swept in with oversized sunglasses on. “Heeeyyy. I saw Joe turn his light off so I figured we were done. Lia, honey, grab your things and meet me in the car outside. We’ve got a signing to get to. Wardrobe’s waiting.”

Lia’s face dropped. “Already? I don’t know if I’m ready to meet fans.”

“Come on,” said Stacy impatiently, adjusting her sunglasses. “I had a long night, and today will be an even longer day. Car’s leaving in five.”

Lia managed a polite smile. Stacy seemed on edge, and she never wanted to get on her bad side.

———

Lia stepped out of the black SUV into a sea of screams. Security parted the crowd for her as she moved down the carpet, smiling at the phones hovering in the air.

A man’s voice rose above the noise. “Lia! Can your youngest fan get a picture?”

She turned toward him. A little girl was perched on his shoulders, beaming. Lia smiled and stepped closer as the man lifted his phone.

He held it out to capture all three of them in the frame. On the screen, Lia saw the girl’s expression change. The joy drained from her eyes as her head slowly turned toward Lia. The phone froze mid-click, flashing back an image of the girl’s mouth open in a silent scream. The sound came a second later, a high shriek in her ear.

Lia flinched and stumbled forward, nearly knocking into a guard. The man’s voice trailed after her, apologizing, saying the girl was just overwhelmed.

But as Lia pushed through the doors, her smile diplomatically reapplied to her face, the sound of that scream kept ringing in her ears, shrill and terrified, like the girl had seen a ghost.

The crew ushered Lia into a dressing room that smelled faintly of perfume and hairspray. The wardrobe team slipped her into a silky red dress that draped perfectly off her shoulders.

The makeup artist gave her one quick look and frowned. “You’re already made up. You know you’re supposed to come to me with a clean face.”

“No, I—” Lia started, but the woman was already pressing a tube of red lipstick against her top lip.

Stacy cracked the door open and poked her head in. “Hey, you ready, hun?” Lia stayed quiet as the lipstick swept across her bottom lip. “Great,” Stacy said, cheerful but distracted. “Time to get out there.”

The staff led her into a wide, echoing gallery where abstract paintings hung sparsely on white walls. A line of fans stretched from the glass table at the center of the room all the way to the exit. Lia glanced around for a chair. There wasn’t one. She took a deep breath.

Hours later, a young woman with a headset hurried over. “Want to take a break? Grab something to eat?”

Lia realized she hadn’t eaten since waking up in the hospital. Even then, she’d only had juice. But she didn’t feel hungry. Not one bit.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said.

The woman laughed. “I don’t know how you do it. Let me know if you want me to grab you a salad.”

A girl who looked about twelve or thirteen years old nervously approached the table. “Hey, um, Ms. Vox? I just wanted to let you know that your music means everything to me. It’s gotten me through some really dark times. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lia’s mouth dropped open. “Wow, thank you so much. Fans like you mean the world to me.” She looked at the girl’s little coin purse. “Listen, I want to give you one of my ‘Dreamer’ bracelets. Save your money for college! The world needs more smart girls like you to follow their dreams.”

By the time the last fan left, her smile felt fixed in place. Her feet should have been killing her, but when she stepped out of those borderline-inhumane stilettos, there was no ache. She watched the faint marks fade from her skin, gone as quickly as they appeared.

———

Over the next couple weeks, Lia fell back into the familiar yet hectic rhythm of her work. She was sleeping less and less each night, choosing instead to spend the late hours doing yoga and meditating when she wasn’t at an event. The days blurred together until she stopped counting them.

The network had postponed the next leg of her tour, calling it a “recovery period.” Stacy pouted about the delay, insisting Lia was ready, but Lia suspected they just wanted to stage a bigger comeback. Fine by her. There was no room for sensitivity in this business.

One night, after a long rehearsal, she came home ready to collapse. She reached for the keypad and froze. The door was cracked open.

Her pulse spiked. Someone was inside.

She pushed the door with trembling fingers. All the lights were on. The air felt heavy and still, like the house was holding its breath. She looked around for something—anything—she could use as a weapon, but her carefully minimalist house offered nothing.

A voice echoed from down the hall, “So, you’re Lia Vox.” Lia’s blood ran cold. She had heard that voice before, but she couldn’t quite place it. Her lip trembled. Her home was her safe haven away from all the things that scared her in this world. She hated that someone had broken that.

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice cracking.

She crept toward the living room. A woman sat on the couch facing the window, blonde hair matted and streaked with dirt. When she turned, the sight knocked the air out of Lia’s lungs.

The woman’s face was hers… or what was left of it. Bruised, swollen, traced with half-healed scars. A torn hospital gown hung off one shoulder, smudged with blood.

“Liar,” the woman rasped.

Lia’s throat tightened. “What is this? Who are you?”

The woman rose unsteadily to her feet. She looked gaunt. “You know who I am,” she said. “I’m Lia Vox. The real one.”

Lia took a step back. “If this is some kind of prank, it’s not funny.”

The woman’s face darkened. “You stole my name, my life! You let them leave me for dead!” She charged at Lia. The lights reflected off the steak knife in her hand.

“I think you’re confused. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, let me get you some help—”

“You need proof?” The woman shouted, now just inches from her. She slashed at Lia’s arm.

Lia backed up against the wall and crumpled to the ground sobbing, though more from shock than pain. “Please, don’t hurt me! I don’t know who you are but I can pay you! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

She looked down. Black fluid was seeping from the cut. She screamed. “What is this?”

The woman’s shoulders relaxed, her eyes shifting from anger to horror. “Oh my God… you really don’t know, do you?” She said gently.

“Know what?” Lia asked between sobs.

The woman dropped the knife with a clatter and sat down next to Lia.

“This—” she gestured toward the dark fluid “—that’s biofluid. I have blood. You don’t. They made you when they thought I wasn’t coming back. A copy. A replacement.”

She sank down beside Lia, exhaustion overtaking her rage. “A nurse smuggled me out. She couldn’t live with it. None of them could.”

For a moment, neither woman spoke. The real Lia tore a strip from her gown and tied it gently around the replica’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You see? You’re not quite me.”

They sat in silence for a long time. The house seemed to hold its breath with them, the soft vibration of the fridge and the faint buzz of the overhead lights the only proof the world was still turning. The replica watched the dark fluid on her arm dry into a dull stain.

“How can I feel human if I’m not?” she finally asked.

The real Lia’s voice was weak with exhaustion. “They copied everything. You just don’t break anymore.”

“So I’m not real?”

The real Lia shifted closer, resting an arm across her shoulders. “You’re real enough.”

The replica stood up and walked to the mirror, struggling to look at herself. “They made me what they think you should be,” she said quietly. “That’s so messed up.”

“Then be her. Let me be free.” Tears welled up in Lia’s eyes. “I’m tired. Broken in more ways than one. I just want to spend what’s left of my life sipping espresso somewhere in Rome, not dodging cameras and chasing hits. But… my fans need me. Or maybe… they need you.”

The replica remembered the girl she gave the bracelet to at the signing a few weeks ago. She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. If I was made to replace you, then let me do one good thing with it.”

Upstairs, water ran. Drawers opened and closed. The faint scent of soap drifted down the hall.

When the real Lia came back down, she was clean, hair damp, dressed in plain clothes that hung loose on her thin frame. “So,” she said quietly, “I guess this is goodbye.”

The replica nodded. “I heard the taxi pull up out front.” Her eyes lingered on the scars lining Lia’s hands. “Do you have everything you need?”

“All my baggage is in here.” She tapped her temple, managing a faint smile. “No one will recognize me like this over there. I look awful. It’s perfect.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.” Lia reached for the door and paused. “They wanted one Lia Vox. Let them have the one they built.”

———

“Lia, you’re on in five!” Stacy called out.

A team of stylists swarmed around Lia Vox, smoothing fabric and dusting glitter on every inch of skin. She caught her reflection and smiled, practiced and radiant, the kind of smile built for cameras. A smudge of lipstick marked her teeth. She wiped it away with a steady hand and leaned closer to the mirror. The lights caught her skin, smooth and glowing, every strand of hair held perfectly in place. Showtime.

Somewhere in Trastevere, a woman with her hair tied messily on top of her head wandered down a cobbled street with a cup of gelato in hand. Chocolate streaked her cheek and dripped onto her shirt.

“Scusa!” a man shouted, weaving past her on a scooter.

From the café behind her, a familiar voice floated out of the speakers, clear and bright over the hum of conversation.

“…so keep pretending I’m real.”

She turned toward the sound. The music filled the square, a perfect voice she recognized but no longer claimed as hers.