Of course

Tom approached Dr. Voss, the pendant warm in his palm. As he located the keyhole—a small, almost imperceptible indentation at the base of her neck—he inserted the skeleton key. It slid in with surprising ease, as if her flesh had momentarily become something else entirely. With a quick twist, he felt a mechanism engage, accompanied by a soft click that seemed to resonate through her entire body.

Dr. Voss shuddered once, then straightened. When she turned to face Tom, her eyes had changed—still the same deep brown, but now with an awareness that hadn't been there before, a recognition of what she truly was and who now controlled her.

"The transition is complete," she said, her voice retaining its cultured accent but now carrying a note of deference. "I am Philosophical Zombie Unit 437, designation 'Eleanor Voss,' now acknowledging Thomas Blossom as my Keybearer and controller."

She smoothed her pencil skirt and resumed her seat behind the desk, crossing her legs with the same elegant poise she'd displayed before. Only now, her attention remained fixed solely on Tom, awaiting his command.

"How does it feel?" Tom asked, returning to his chair but leaning forward, fascinated. "Being... controlled by me?"

Dr. Voss tilted her head slightly, considering. "It feels correct. Appropriate. My primary function is to maintain my cover identity while serving the needs of my Keybearer. You are now that Keybearer."

Tom glanced at Dane, who nodded approvingly. "She's still Dr. Voss," Dane explained. "Unlike my more dramatic transformations, Eleanor's baseline personality remains intact. She simply acknowledges your authority now."

Tom studied Dr. Voss with newfound appreciation. Unlike Dane's somewhat generic professor appearance, Dr. Voss had been designed with meticulous attention to detail. Her face bore subtle lines around her eyes and mouth—not enough to diminish her beauty, but sufficient to suggest a woman in her mid-forties who had lived and laughed. A few strands of silver threaded through her chestnut hair, and her hands, though elegant, showed the slight veining of maturity.

"You look so... real," Tom marveled. "More authentic than Dane, somehow."

Dr. Voss smiled, the same slightly yellowed teeth visible. "Each p-zombie is designed to blend seamlessly into their environment. My role required a more lived-in appearance—a distinguished female academic with a successful career and family life."

"The imperfections make you more convincing," Tom observed. "The teeth, the little wrinkles..."

"Calling me old?" Dr. Voss laughed, a surprisingly genuine sound that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk and fixing Tom with a playful gaze. "I'll have you know, Mr. Blossom, that I can alter this appearance however you might prefer. Perhaps you'd like me younger? More glamorous?" She ran a hand through her chestnut hair, the silver strands catching the light. "The wrinkles and imperfections are merely aesthetic choices."

Tom felt his cheeks flush. "No, no—that's not what I meant at all. I think you look perfect as you are. I was just... observing the craftsmanship."

"Wise answer," Dane commented from his chair, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Dr. Voss settled back, seemingly satisfied with Tom's response. Her fingers idly traced the edge of a framed photograph on her desk—herself with a distinguished-looking man and two teenage children, all smiling against a backdrop of autumn leaves.

"Speaking of craftsmanship," Tom said, his curiosity piqued, "who designed you? You mentioned your role required certain characteristics, so someone must have created this persona deliberately."

Dr. Voss exchanged a glance with Dane before returning her attention to Tom. "Your grandfather, actually. William Blossom was instrumental in founding Romero University, and he personally oversaw the integration of the first generation of p-zombies into the faculty."

Tom's eyes widened. "My grandfather designed you? This exact appearance?"

She nodded, touching her face self-consciously. "He had very specific ideas about what a Comparative Literature professor should look like. Cultured, but approachable. Intelligent, but not intimidating. European, but not excessively foreign." She gestured to herself with a sweep of her hand. "Hence, Dr. Eleanor Voss was born."

"The old man had good taste," Tom murmured, studying her with newfound appreciation. The idea that his grandfather had crafted this beautiful, sophisticated woman from nothing was both strange and oddly touching.

Dr. Voss inclined her head in acknowledgment, a small smile playing at her lips. "He was quite particular about the details. Even insisted on the slight asymmetry of my features to enhance believability." She pointed to her left eyebrow, which Tom now noticed sat marginally higher than her right.

Tom's gaze lingered on Dr. Voss's blouse, noticing how the fabric strained slightly across her chest. His grandfather had indeed shown impeccable taste in his design choices. The sophisticated cut of her clothing, the way it complemented her figure while maintaining professional decorum—all of it spoke to careful, deliberate craftsmanship.

"Your grandfather was quite thorough in his attention to detail," Dr. Voss said, catching Tom's appreciative glance with a knowing smile. She straightened her posture slightly, the movement subtle yet deliberate. "The physical form was just the beginning of his design process."

Tom cleared his throat, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "What about your family?" he asked, gesturing toward the framed photograph on her desk. "Are they like Margaret—projections you can summon?"

Dr. Voss picked up the photograph, studying it with what appeared to be genuine fondness. "They're not real, of course," she said softly. "But yes, I can materialize them when necessary. My 'husband' Charles has attended faculty dinners, and my 'children' have made appearances at university family days." She set the frame down carefully. "They're quite convincing, though they have limited autonomy, similar to Margaret."

"So you can just... create people whenever you need them?" Tom asked, fascinated.

"Within reason," she replied. "It requires significant energy to maintain multiple projections simultaneously. I typically only materialize them for specific social functions where their absence would raise questions."

Dane nodded from his seat. "The energy expenditure increases exponentially with each additional projection. Most of us limit ourselves to one or two at a time."

"That's fascinating," Tom said, leaning forward in his chair. "So you're constantly managing these projections to maintain your cover identity."

"Indeed," Dr. Voss replied, crossing her legs elegantly. "It becomes second nature after a while. I've had to create quite elaborate scenarios over the years."

"Like what?" Tom asked, genuinely curious about the extent of her capabilities.

Dr. Voss's eyes lit up with what appeared to be pride. "Well, there was the International Folklore Symposium three years ago. I had published a collaborative paper with a Dr. Sophia Marković—a Serbian folklorist specializing in Balkan mythology."

"Let me guess," Tom interjected, "Dr. Marković doesn't actually exist?"

"Precisely," Dr. Voss confirmed with a slight smile. "I created her complete academic profile, including publications and university affiliations. When the symposium organizers insisted both authors present the findings, I had to materialize her for the four-day conference."

Professor Dane chuckled softly. "Eleanor's performance was quite impressive. She maintained two distinct personas throughout the entire event, even participating in separate panel discussions simultaneously."

Dr. Voss shrugged modestly, though Tom could detect a hint of satisfaction in her expression. "Energy expenditure wasn't an issue for just one body double”.