Herta

The doll tilted its head, its bright eyes locking onto you with an almost human curiosity. Then, in a voice unmistakably Herta’s, it spoke.

“…Why are you staring?”

Its tone was just as detached as ever, but the sight in front of you was anything but ordinary. The usual mechanical dolls were one thing, but this one—short hair, dressed in an uncharacteristically cute outfit—was clearly different. Customized. Personal.

Herta, or rather, the doll she was controlling, took a step closer. “You’re acting like this is weird,” she remarked, crossing her arms. “It’s just an experiment.”

Even though she wasn’t physically here, there was no doubt. This was her.