Cold Informer: Fantasy

My cold informer came to me in the center of a graveyard. She looked around, then back at me. "Is this your idea of humor?" "I thought it was fitting." "You do realize that I'm not actually dead. I am, after all, talking to you." "A technicality." I didn't like interacting with the cold ones. Sure, their body temps might not be below 97.3 (exactly and precisely, with no variance, ever), but we all had visited the slab where they were made. We saw the bodies, saw the hoarfrost on their eyelashes and the stiff blueness of their limbs, the wounds that had killed them. I was never sure if that was a kindness or just a "this is part of the job, so we should show them." In everything else, the Apparatus might obfuscate and conceal, but--


Inspiration: "Cold Reformer" - Jean-Paul Bondy
Story Potential: High-ish?
Notes: I like the setting, the spy/cold war/panopticon feel of it, but there's no idea of story beyond the setting here.