Stasis isn't unconsciousness or dreamlessness, not quite. Instead you're trapped in a limbo of almost-nothing, an almost-nothing that ever so slowly changes, hinting at things that are never really revealed. At least that's the way it is for you. Most unpleasant.

The lid opens and your mind and body restart. The woman Inquisitor is there with two medicae attendants wearing the both mark of the Officio Mediacle and the =][= of the Inquisition. You're put in a chair and they run some brief tests on you and give a stim-shot to freshen your mind a bit. Then she hands you a glass of vintage amasec, quite a bit more expensive than any you've tasted before, pours one for herself and then sits on the table in front of you. Her posture is not very lady-like this time; she's adopted the bodylanguage of an up-hive escort girl, laced with the less subtle cues sent by a body-dancer. You get the feeling that she might at any time decide to make use of your body in an entirely improper manner.

"I think a little explanation is in order. The reason I called you abomination is because you were not born. You were made. Of course there is nothing wrong with bioroids - most servitors are made from such stock. Yes, the public likes to think that servitors are all condemned men redeeming themselves, but that's not how it works. Would you like to have a middle-aged, semi-obese man with failing health as the basis for your house servitor? Not likely. Combat servitor? No. Pleasure model? Definitely not. And so the bioroid industry churns out Emperor-knows how many billions of fleshy shells each year. Do you see where this is going? I think you do.

"There are rules for making bioroid shells of course. Limits to their programming, restrictions when it comes to their level of creativity and independence. Stray beyond that limit and you're no longer making machines, but imitating human life. And that is heresy of the worst kind." She takes a little pause to move her body around a little, suggesting much, and your body responds in involuntary ways. She pretends not to notice and continues: "There is a certain traffic in pleasure models. You'd think that in a galaxy when pristine flesh can be had so cheaply there would be no market for dolls, but there is. Bioroids can be made to any specification, any appearance, and they can be made to do things that would break a normal human. And they come fully trained and willing." She gets up and thankfully returns to her Arbites-officer personae. "But many such pleasure-models push the limits - screwing a blank-eyed doll doesn't have the appeal that a more human-like bioroid has."

She sits down opposite you and pushes a case-file over the table. "Everything is in here. Your mother was one such. Presented to your father, the Lord Baron Elazar Dante of Absolom Spire, as a gift to keep him company after his third wife passed away and he decided not to re-marry. High-end. Way beyond the limits. Almost indistinguishable from a human. A living heresy." There are pictures in there, of your father looking old, rich and very distinguished. And your mother, Lady Ashira Dante the file says. And incredibly beautiful and regal-looking woman. "Lord Dante seems to have fallen in love with his toy. Even forged certain papers and data-banks to make her a real human. Married her. Decided to have children. Of course, his Lady didn't have a working reproductive system. Lord Dante probably didn't have a thing for pregnant women, so her designers thought that unnecessary I suppose. So instead he had his medicae mix their gene-strands and arranged to have his children grown, just like the mother had been. You were given the best gene-screening and template-updates money could buy. Which is why you're generally stronger, faster, and smarter than the average citizen. You were designed that way.

"One of the Lord Baron's legitimate children for his previous marriages contacted the Inquisition. Probably just wanted to get rid of the father and assume the title a little prematurely. But the Inquisition moved in. Not just because your father had done something heretical, but because it opened an interesting avenue into unraveling a persistent ring of illegal bioroid traffickers. That about sums it up. Of course, you weren't there when we came. Someone, your mother most likely, had spirited you away and hidden you. But we didn't know that, and you slipped through our fingers. So, you're grown using several illegal techniques and without any inhibiting programming; clearly you are an illegal bioroid, an abomination."