RealDreams protestor with a secret

You notice the flashing blue and red lights in your rear-view mirror with a groan. Not again. Don't these pigs have anything better to do than harass defenseless women? You pull your car over and fish your papers from the glove compartment. There's nothing you can do about the pile of signs in your back seat, covered in slogans such as "RealDreams Makes Nightmares Real" and "Stand up for all women!"

A pair of flashlights appear behind your car, one on either side, and you roll down your window, making sure to remain calm and to keep your hands where the officers can see them. You happen to bear a striking resemblance to Emelia Clarke and have been mistaken for a character more than once. Fortunately, once RealDreams took off, you had the good foresight to prepare ample proof of Earth Prime residence and always carry documents to prove your "authenticity" as a human.

You hate that this is how things work nowadays, but you don't know any other way to fight it.

"Papers." a gruff male voice barks at you and you slowly, calmly present them with one of three sets of your identification that you have access to in your car; one in your glove compartment, one in your purse, and one in the bag you take to rallies. The one you hand to the police officer is your car copy.

He looks over the papers and then squats down to shine the light full in your face, examining you closely.

Your pulse quickens but you hide your fear and disgust in an attempt to remain calm. It's when your face is neutral that you look the least like your famous actress look-a-like, and it's what makes it easiest to avoid scrutiny during random checks like this. The knowledge that you are potentially seconds away from being thrown to the ground and violently stripped, again, fills you with dread.

The cop reads your information from your documentation. "Nadia Emmons. Age twenty six. Earth Prime citizen."

"Yes, sir."

"Turn your head to the left, please Miss Emmons." he produces a small face scanner, an item you've seen many times.

You're actually grateful for it; some police trust their own eyes too readily and don't bother scanning you. The scanners are never wrong.

It only takes a few seconds for the officer to become satisfied that you're an original and not a character and he returns your papers. "Sorry for the trouble, Miss Emmons. We've had some reports of runaways in this area, hard as that may be to believe... and I'm sure you realize you look an awful lot like..." he looks into the back seat of your car at your protest signs and rolls his eyes. "Look, just stay out of trouble. And maybe find something to waste your time on that might actually accomplish something. Come on, Cooper. She's clean."

The two cops leave. As they withdraw from your vehicle, you notice that the second cop is carrying some kind of stun gun in his hand. He was fully prepared to use it on you if your paperwork wasn't in order. The thought sends a chill through your blood, but more worrisome than that, you're undeniably turned on by the whole thing. You always are. You don't want to be, but you just can't help it.