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Do androids dream of electric sheeps?

Do lovedolls love?

Hello. My name is Alice and I work for,... well,... I was working for Polymerix. Now I’m an unemployed doll. As far as I’m aware, none of my former colleagues have ever managed to quit ‘alive’. Our only exit door leads into the Trashcan. Of course, others might have done the same trick, as I did. If so nobody knows they succeed. These dolls are officially dead to the world as am I.

Shannon took a bite of her granola bar as she flipped through the textbook, trying to focus.  Her roommate Margaret had left to eat dinner at the cafeteria, an invitation that Shannon declined.  She wasn't trying to be rude, it was just that, over the past week or so she had been feeling less and less hungry, with the feeling stopping altogether about two or three days ago.  Aside from that she felt perfectly fine - great, even - and in light of everything else that happened to her it barely even registered.

The alarm clock went off with a sound between a buzz and a beep, though considering how soundly Shannon had been sleeping it may as well been something between a record scratch and a screaming toddler.  She slapped the button, groaning as she sat up and rubbed her eyes before climbing out of bed, throwing on her robe and heading into the kitchen.

For her part Margaret was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, reading the newspaper. "Morning, Shannon.  Sleep well?"

Gillian looked up at the sign above the shop and gulped. It read 'Skin Tight', and the black curtains in the window were always kept drawn acting almost mirror-like. She could see herself in the glass of the doorway, her shocking not-at-all natural red shoulder length hair draped over her University's womens rugby team t-shirt, which met at her waist with a pair of light blue jeans with a tear in each knee. Slapped in the middle of the doorway was a sign saying "Over 18s Only, open 8 til late". She looked at her watch, it read 7:30pm.