The news is officially out. After PEOPLE exclusively confirmed that George Clooney was off the market, his fiancée, human rights lawyer Amal Alamuddin, was congratulated by her law firm. 

“You’re a fool,” the supervisor had told her.

“I know,” she said.

He thumped the desk in frustration. “You’ll be dead before the ceremony’s finished.”

“I don’t care,” she said.

“You’ll break his heart.”

She hesitated, this time. “I know.”

The supervisor visibly composed himself before he came around to the front of the desk. He knelt beside her and took her hand in his. “You understand, don’t you,” he began, “why we started the Tears in Rain project? Why Tyrell Corp manufactures Clooney girlfriends with two-year lifespans? Why none of you are permitted to go Offworld? That it’s for his own good, for his protection? That every single one of your predecessors has happily — gratefully — powered down after her watch ended?”

His hands were warm over hers. “I know,” she said.

“And yet you refuse.”

“I do.”

“Replicants don’t marry him. They retire. And darling, it’s time for you to retire.”

He brought his face up to hers and looked directly into your eyes. “You haven’t forgotten what you are?” he asked, his voice soft and low and dangerous. “What all of you are?”

She looked away. “I know what you tell me we are.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Then it’s true.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It is. It is true.” Realization and triumph stole over his face like a sunrise. “You think you’re human. You really do. You’ve forgotten.”

She wrested her arm away. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

“Where were the two of you last Christmas?”

“We were at Lake Como, with his mo–”

The supervisor laughed. “How long do you think you’ve known him?”

The room was beginning to feel hot and stifling. “I’ve — he wants to marry me. We love each other.”

“Do you remember the time he took you to Sutherland Falls?”

“Of course I do. This is getting ridiculous. I understand that you’re upset and I’m happy to return the equipment and the money but I’ve made my decision.”

“Are you sure it was you that he took there?”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What an idiotic question.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the others? Are you sure that memory is yours, and not a memory from an earlier model?”

“I was there. And I’m marrying George. And I’m leaving. And you can’t — and you can’t stop me.”

“Of course,” the supervisor said, laughing now, and she carried his laughter with her as she ran down the hallway. “It’s too bad you won’t live, but then again, who does?”

The first night of their honeymoon, she found a paper unicorn on the nightstand by her side of the bed. “It’s just from housekeeping,” George had said, bewildered and a little amused by her obvious terror. “It’s just origami, a decoration. You want me to get rid of it? I’ll get rid of it.” He wandered off in the direction of the bathroom, holding it lightly in his hand. George held everything lightly; George had all the time in the world.

Then again, who does?