More about Voss

Tom leaned back in his chair, processing the incredible information about Dr. Voss's abilities. The academic charade she described was impressive, but he suddenly felt an urge to test the boundaries of his control more directly.

"Enough about this colleague of yours," Tom said, his voice taking on a commanding tone that surprised even himself. "Give me your phone and wedding ring, Voss."

Dr. Voss's eyebrows rose slightly, but she immediately reached for her left hand, sliding an elegant platinum band with a modest diamond from her ring finger. With her other hand, she retrieved a sleek smartphone from her desk drawer. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes as she extended both items toward Tom.

"Of course, Mr. Blossom," she said, her tone perfectly balanced between professional deference and subtle humor. "Though I must say, it's rather unusual to be commanded so directly by someone who appears to be an undergraduate student when I'm ostensibly tenured faculty."

Tom accepted the items, turning the wedding ring over in his palm. The craftsmanship was impeccable—the metal cool and weighty in his hand, the diamond catching the light from her desk lamp in prismatic sparkles.

"Are these props too?" he asked, examining the phone next. It was the latest model, with a lock screen showing a photo of Dr. Voss standing beside a distinguished-looking older man on what appeared to be a hiking trail in autumn.

"Yes," she confirmed with a slight nod. "Just like my clothes or my car. Any object required for maintaining a convincing human facade can be materialized by me or any other philosophical zombie."

Tom glanced toward the window, where he could see a portion of the faculty parking lot. "Your car is out there right now?"

"Indeed. A silver Volvo SUV, three years old, with approximately 42,000 miles on the odometer," she replied matter-of-factly. "It has a child's booster seat in the back, though I have no children, and a collection of NPR-themed bumper stickers that help reinforce my identity as a liberal academic."

"Your SUV," Tom repeated, emphasizing the possessive pronoun.

Dr. Voss smiled, understanding his implication immediately. "Yes, technically I referred to it as 'my SUV,' though as you've astutely noted, objects like me can't truly 'own' other objects. It's simply part of the linguistic patterns we adopt to maintain our cover identities."

Tom looked down at the smartphone in his hand, turning it over to examine its perfect construction. The case had a slight wear pattern at the corners, and there was even a tiny scratch on the screen protector—details designed to suggest regular use. Without warning, Tom raised the phone above his head and smashed it down onto the hardwood floor of Dr. Voss's office.

The device hit the floor with a loud crack, its screen shattering into a spiderweb of fractures. Pieces of the case skittered across the polished wood.

Dr. Voss didn't flinch. She merely observed Tom with a clinical interest, her head tilted slightly to one side. Professor Dane, however, raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"I apologize for the mess," Tom said, not sounding particularly apologetic. "But I wanted to test something. Can you fix this?"

Dr. Voss smiled patiently. "Of course." She gestured toward the broken device. "That phone isn't real in the conventional sense. It's a materialized construct, just like many of my possessions."

As Tom watched, the shattered pieces of the phone began to shimmer slightly before dissolving into particles of light that faded into nothingness. The floor was now spotlessly clean, with no evidence of the destruction he had just caused.

"And I assume you can just..." Tom made a vague gesture with his hand.

Dr. Voss nodded and reached into her jacket pocket. When her hand emerged, she was holding an identical smartphone—same model, same case, even the same lock screen image of her hiking with the distinguished older man. She extended it toward Tom.

"Here you go," she said, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't break this one. Not because it causes me any distress, but because the energy expenditure for materialization and dematerialization is not insignificant."

Tom accepted the phone, marveling at its perfect replication. "It's the exact same phone?"

"In every detail," she confirmed. "It's the same matter manipulation process as when a philosophical zombie shifts their appearance. We can rearrange ambient energy and matter to create or recreate objects as needed."

Tom ran his thumb across the screen, noting the identical scratch on the screen protector. "And this works for anything? Not just phones?"

"Within reason," Dr. Voss explained, crossing her legs and adjusting her posture in the chair. "The more complex the object, the more energy required. Simple items like phones, keys, or clothing are relatively easy.