Rummage through Catherine’s belongings

Bill tilted his head, catching on to Amber's choice of words. "Did you just call your mom a 'prop'?"

Amber's expression remained unchanged. "Catherine isn't my mother. She's an extension I've created to simulate a mother figure. And yes, technically, she and all her accompanying elements are props in the simulation I maintain."

Bill glanced back at the frozen Catherine, her face caught in mid-expression, unnervingly still yet lifelike. The cognitive dissonance made his stomach twist slightly.

"Earlier you mentioned that the car was simpler," Bill said, walking toward the window to peer out at the sedan parked at the curb. "What did you mean by that exactly?"

"The car only needs to look correct and function mechanically," Amber explained, following him to the window. "Human extensions like Catherine require significantly more resources to create and maintain. They need to simulate consciousness convincingly—facial expressions, emotional responses, conversational abilities, memories, and behavioral patterns. A car just needs to start, drive, and maintain its physical properties."

Bill pressed his palm against the cool glass of the window. "So the car out there—it's fully functional? It actually drives?"

"Of course," Amber replied. "I can make it function perfectly indefinitely. I could even materialize fuel for it as needed, though the car doesn't actually consume fuel in the traditional sense. It simulates the consumption."

"Could you make it malfunction?" Bill asked, turning back to face her. "Like, give it a flat tire or make the engine stall?"

Amber nodded. "I could introduce any mechanical issue that would be plausible for that make and model. I could simulate engine failure, brake problems, electrical issues—anything that maintains the illusion of a real vehicle with real mechanical properties."

"That's fascinating," Bill murmured, his gaze drifting back to Catherine's frozen form. "But you've never actually had to do any of that before? This is the first time Catherine and her car have taken physical form?"

"Yes," Amber confirmed. "This is the first materialization of Catherine and her vehicle. Until now, they've only existed as part of my narrative framework—the backstory I maintain to blend in as a human. I've referenced them in conversations, displayed photos of them, but never materialized them physically."

Bill walked slowly around Catherine, studying her from different angles. The attention to detail was astounding—the slight asymmetry of her features, the tiny crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, even a small mole near her collarbone partially hidden by her blouse.

"You're the first person to ever actually see Catherine," Amber informed him, her voice carrying a strange neutrality despite the significance of her words. "No one else has ever observed her physical manifestation before."

Bill felt a peculiar chill run down his spine at this revelation. He was witnessing something unprecedented—a fabricated being that had only existed as a concept until this moment. His curiosity intensified as he glanced at the small table near the entryway where Catherine had placed her phone earlier.

"I want to see more of this," Bill muttered, moving toward the table. He picked up Catherine's smartphone—a newer model with a protective case decorated with colorful flowers. "Does this work too? Is it functional like the car?"

"Completely," Amber replied, watching him with mild interest. "Every object associated with an extension is fully operational and contains appropriate content consistent with their identity."

Bill pressed the home button, and the screen illuminated. He held the phone up to Catherine's frozen face, and to his amazement, the facial recognition activated, and the phone unlocked with a soft chime. The screen revealed a home page organized with the characteristic disarray of someone not particularly tech-savvy.

"Jesus," Bill whispered, his fingers navigating through the device. The brightness was set to maximum, making the screen almost painfully luminous, and the font size was comically large—exactly what one would expect from an older person's phone settings.

He tapped on the photo gallery and found hundreds of images organized into albums: "Book Club 2023," "Garden Photos," "Amber's Visit," "Teacher Conference," and dozens more. Bill opened the "Amber's Visit" folder and found photos dated just three months ago—pictures of Amber and Catherine at a local restaurant, at a park, shopping together.

"These are dated," Bill said, his voice hushed with disbelief. "There are timestamps, location data... everything."

"The narrative needs to be complete," Amber explained, standing beside him now. "Inconsistencies would risk exposure. The phone contains everything Catherine would reasonably have—contacts, text messages, emails, apps she would use, browser history, even battery wear consistent with a device purchased eighteen months ago."

Bill navigated to the text messages. There were ongoing conversations with colleagues, a sister named Margaret, a book club group chat, and regular exchanges with "Amber ❤️" that stretched back years. He scrolled through the most recent conversation with Amber, reading messages about Catherine's planned visit today.

"This is..." Bill struggled to find the right words. "This is beyond comprehension. The level of detail is impossible."

"It's not impossible," Amber replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's simply what's required for a convincing simulation. Every detail must be accounted for."

Bill continued scrolling through Catherine's phone, finding a weather app with saved locations—her home address in Scottsdale, Amber's address, and several vacation spots. There were reminder notifications for an upcoming doctor's appointment, a dental cleaning, and a hair salon visit. The calendar was populated with events stretching back years and forward for months.

"Look at this," Bill said, holding up the phone. "She has a dentist appointment next Tuesday. Would she actually go to that if I hadn't discovered your secret? Would you have materialized her again for that appointment?"

"No," Amber said. "The appointments exist only as data points to support the narrative. I would reference them in conversation if relevant, but I wouldn't materialize Catherine to attend them. The simulation only extends to what might be observed or verified by others."

Bill set the phone down and turned his attention back to the frozen Catherine. Her expression was caught in mid-smile, eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, head tilted in that characteristic way mothers have when listening to their children. The pose was so natural, so human, that Bill felt a wave of unease wash over him.

"Can I touch her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course," Amber replied. "She has complete physical properties. She's solid, has appropriate temperature, texture—everything you would expect from a human body."

Hesitantly, Bill reached out and touched Catherine's arm. The skin was warm and soft, with the slight looseness one would expect from a woman in her sixties. He could feel the subtle pulse of a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. When he pressed gently, her flesh yielded exactly as human flesh would.

"This is incredible," he murmured, moving his hand to her shoulder, then her face. He ran his thumb across her cheek, feeling the slight roughness of foundation powder. "She even has makeup on. I can feel it."

"Yes," Amber confirmed. "Catherine would never leave the house without her makeup routine. She's quite particular about her appearance."

Bill's brow furrowed. "You talk about her like she's a real person with preferences and habits."

"It's easier to maintain consistency that way," Amber explained. "I conceptualize my extensions as complete entities with preferences, habits, and quirks. Catherine always applies her lipstick slightly unevenly because her right hand trembles slightly—a developing arthritis she hasn't acknowledged to herself yet.

"But wait," Bill said, his eyes widening with sudden realization. "If you keep her materialized, she would go to these appointments, right? I mean, if Catherine stayed here, existed continuously, she would actually show up at the dentist next Tuesday?"

Amber tilted her head slightly, considering his question. "Yes. If I maintained Catherine's presence continuously, the simulation would extend to all scheduled activities. She would drive to her appointments, interact with the dentist or doctor, and create new memories and data consistent with those experiences."

Bill ran his hand through his hair, trying to process the implications. "So you could just... create a person who lives a complete life? Who goes to work, pays taxes, forms relationships?"

"That's what I do," Amber replied simply. "I maintain a complete human identity. Catherine could do the same, though it would require more energy to sustain multiple extensions simultaneously over extended periods."