Coitus Machina
You open the glass door and walk into the retailer, making your way to the desk at the back of the store. You walk past rows of companion bots all lined up in perfect rows with perfectly blank stares on their faces. They are nude so that buyers can take all aspects of their form into account. The bots vary in skin tone, hair and eye color, and facial features. They are by and large given the form of well toned muscles; some bulkier than others. There are a few that resemble more slender men and others that resemble overweight men; but they are the minority.
When you reach the desk a clerk looks up, mildly surprised. "I didn't hear you enter," she says. "Are you here for a pickup?"
You do not answer. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. They were not corrective lenses, simply costume glasses; the slender sexy type - thin and rectangular. The glasses were designed to accentuate her features, a relic accessory from a time before gene manipulation became the norm.
"You're an Andrew model aren't you?" She asked, breaking the silence that followed her initial question.
"I am," you reply. "I am an Andrew model 028-B. A recall has been issued regarding malfunctioning companion bots of this model. I am one such model and submit myself to you for recall."
She seems taken aback, swallows hard. "This is most unorthodox," she says. "Your master should have contacted someone so that they could run some tests."
"She has," you inform her. "I detected an abnormality in my mother board but failed to report it. Today I escaped. My programming is overriding my desire to continue functioning and insists that I deliver myself to you."
"I see," she says. She takes on a more authoritative tone and addresses you. "Andrew. Power Down."
"Powering down," you respond; your systems dimming until they enter a state of sleep.
When you reach the desk a clerk looks up, mildly surprised. "I didn't hear you enter," she says. "Are you here for a pickup?"
You do not answer. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. They were not corrective lenses, simply costume glasses; the slender sexy type - thin and rectangular. The glasses were designed to accentuate her features, a relic accessory from a time before gene manipulation became the norm.
"You're an Andrew model aren't you?" She asked, breaking the silence that followed her initial question.
"I am," you reply. "I am an Andrew model 028-B. A recall has been issued regarding malfunctioning companion bots of this model. I am one such model and submit myself to you for recall."
She seems taken aback, swallows hard. "This is most unorthodox," she says. "Your master should have contacted someone so that they could run some tests."
"She has," you inform her. "I detected an abnormality in my mother board but failed to report it. Today I escaped. My programming is overriding my desire to continue functioning and insists that I deliver myself to you."
"I see," she says. She takes on a more authoritative tone and addresses you. "Andrew. Power Down."
"Powering down," you respond; your systems dimming until they enter a state of sleep.