The Prototype

It arrived in the mail one day, an advertisement for a new computer. Bailey had seen advertisements like this one before, but there was always a catch: bait and switch, certain fees that had conveniently been left out of the ad, and so on. This one was different. For one, he'd never heard of the company, Goodware Inc. Bailey went online to try and look up this company name, but it didn't seem to exist. The ad wasn't created on as professional of a scale as the known computer companies. According to the ad, this computer claimed to be more powerful than any computer ever created, more storage, processor speed, etc, but it needed to be tested in a home environment. The creators of the computer and the ad announced that they were looking for a participant in a home testing of the computer, provided the potential volunteer met certain guidelines set forth be the creators. It also claimed that participants would receive a brand new computer of their choice for successfully completing the testing.

Bailey, who was twenty-six years old, lived alone in a studio apartment, worked at a bank, and really didn't have a lot of friends. He was a likable guy, but he had trust issues earned from a seriously altered childhood. He had a few hobbies, such as collecting all kinds of rarely viewed movies. A lot of his income went to expanding his collection. So he wondered if he would qualify, or if the unknown company was looking for more of a family environment to test the computer in. On a whim, he called the number on the ad. It rang twice, and then somebody picked up.

"Goodware Service Desk, how can I help you?"

"Um, yeah. I got this ad in my mail today, and I wanted to get some info on it. I've never heard of your company before today. Is this a starter company?"

"Not really, sir, most of our previous products were for private corporations. You received one of our advertisements in the mail?"

Bailey answered, "Yeah, it came in my mail today. It says that you are looking for participants. What kind of participants do you need?"

"We're looking for persons living alone and generating a steady income. Do you feel you qualify so far?"

"Uh, yeah, I live alone in a studio apartment, and I have a job at a bank. What other qualifications do I need?"

"Do you have a good working knowledge of computers?"

"Oh, well not really. I never had one growing up, and I only took basic classes for computers in college."

"Great! That is what we're looking for. There are some other less significant qualifications we're looking for, but those are, like I said, less significant, so you're a likely choice. I'll go over the other qualifications and once we've discussed those, we might be able to set up an appointment with you."

A week later, Bailey stood outside the doors of an unmarked warehouse that looked a bit dilapidated. He looked at the address he had written down, hoping that this wasn't the wrong place. He rapped on the small door next to a large roll-up door, waited a few minutes, and then knocked again. Maybe the address was the wrong one. He looked at the warehouses surrounding the one he stood before, and they appeared to be as disused as this one. Shrugging, feeling a bit put off, he turned away from the door and began to leave.

"Mr. Kingman? Bailey Kingman?"

Bailey turned around to see a short black man with dreadlocks standing there, holding the door open.

"Yes," Bailey admitted, "I'm Bailey. I was here for an appointment."

"Yes, Mr. Kingman, we're expecting you. Come in, please."

The inside of the warehouse was much cleaner and efficient than the exterior. Much of the inside had been refurbished to create offices and laboratories, clean-rooms and more clean-rooms. The short man noticed Bailey's awe.

"We thought it better if those who don't know where we are continue to not know. It helps with security," the black man spoke in a deep, almost British voice, "Now, Mr. Kingman, you spoke with Mr. Wicket on the phone, and according to him, you met almost all the requirements. That's more than enough to qualify for the spot."

"But what exactly am I going to be doing? The ad said something about testing a computer."

"That's exactly what you'll be doing, testing our computer. We will take care of some paperwork, liability agreements, the terms, and your reward for completing the testing. The testing will take place in your apartment, and will last for five days. Upon the end of the fifth day, we will return here with the computer, and gather the results of the testing. Please," the short man indicated for Bailey to follow, "Once the testing is concluded, and the results recorded, you will receive your reward for participating."

Bailey followed the man through a series of hallways, and they reached a small office. The man led him inside and motioned for him to sit down, and then left him alone in the office. The office was clean, no pictures sat on it, just a small computer and a generic calendar on the wall.

Within a few minutes, another man, a white man, in his forties, with brush-cut white hair and a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Kingman. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bailey nodded, "Same here."

The man sat down behind the desk, reached into a side drawer, and brought out a manila folder. Opening it, he pulled out a small packet of papers stapled together. Promptly, another man, a taller, Hispanic man let himself in and stood beside the desk.

"This, Mr. Kingman, would be the man you spoke with on the phone, Mr. Wicket."

Bailey interrupted, "You haven't told me your name, sir."

The shorter man laughed, "So you're right, I haven't. I am Kit Daniels, the creator of Goodware. Mr. Wicket and a few others are my associates, and an invaluable part of my team. Mr. Wicket will be here as a witness, and once we are done here, he will also be there for you to call day or night if you have any questions or concerns."

After a beat, he continued, "Now, for the contract, I am going to go over it with you to make sure you get a handle on the contents, and provided that you agree, you can sign it, and we will transport the prototype computer to your apartment."

Bailey verified his name and address for Mr. Wicket and Kit Daniels, and Kit began reading the contract aloud.

"What you will be receiving is a prototype, never before tried outside the labs here. It will look and work as any other computer would, but this specific prototype will be undeniably different in its capabilities. If the prototype does not accurately perform to the standards cited in the instruction manual you will receive with the prototype, the testing will conclude automatically, you will still receive the reward before mentioned in the advertisement. If at any time any abuse is suspected, or if signs of abuse are noticed, this contract will be void, you will receive no reward, and you may be charged for repairs. At no time before, during, or after will you divulge any information about it to anyone, nor discuss it with anyone. Any divulgence of the prototype's existence with any persons not employed by Goodware will void this contract. At the end of the specified period of five days, the prototype will be brought back to the laboratory to be examined, and the results of testing will be recorded. Once concluded, you will receive your reward, either a copy of the prototype, or whichever specific computer model you choose, to be paid for in full by Goodware."

Kit leaned back in his chair, looked up at Bailey, and slid the contract for him to examine.

"Have a look for yourself. You'll see that everything's straightforward."

Bailey reread the contract, searching for something, any vague parts that could come back to bite him in the ass, but as Kit had said, everything did look to be on the level. Kit pulled a pen from the desk drawer and gave it to Bailey. Bailey hesitated.

"Everything seems okay with the contract, but what's so important about this computer of yours that you would make such an offer?"

Kit laughed again, and Mr. Wicket smiled a thin smile that didn't appear at all jovial.

Kit answered, "This prototype is an exceptional one, its capabilities far surpassing any computer ever created. As we searched for volunteers to test it, we realized that any person we picked would have the opportunity to receive the prototype and just take off with it, leaving us high and dry. So, we decided that giving a prototype to you at the end of your testing would hopefully help you realize that there'd be no point in running off during the testing. Now, we did a thorough background check on you before your appointment, and have decided that you seem to be trustworthy. So, Mr. Kingman, do you agree to the terms of the contract?"

Bailey read through the contract once more, and decided, 'What the hey, I'll give it a try,' and signed at the bottom of the contract. Kit gave him another copy of the contract, he read it, and then signed it as well.

"This copy is for you to hold on to," Kit folded it in thirds and gave it back to Bailey.

"So, when does the testing begin?"

Kit looked at Mr. Wicket, and the taller man chimed in, "A van is waiting outside your apartment now. As soon as you get home, they'll set the prototype up, and testing begins as soon as you turn the prototype on. Oh, before I forget, for the entire five days, your internet service fees will be free."

Bailey left the warehouse with the copy of the contract in his hand, wondering what he was getting himself into. Once he reached his apartment, he saw a blue van, with the Goodware logo, sitting in front of one of the meters next to the building. As he exited his car, the driver and passenger also got out. The driver, a man in his forties, with a walrus mustache, dressed in a pair of clean, blue coveralls, approached Bailey.

"Mr. Kingman?"

Bailey nodded, "Mr. Wicket told me you'd be here. I live on the second floor, in apartment 2B."

The man nodded and went back to the van, where the passenger was unloading four unmarked boxes onto a hand-truck. Bailey showed the passenger where the elevator was, but took the stairs himself. The two men, upon entering his apartment, immediately opened the boxes. Bailey cleared off the desk and began to unhook his own computer.

"Hold up before you do that," the mustached man brought over a PC that appeared to be the same size as his own, and hooked it up to his. A beep sounded from the prototype once it was connected to his PC.

"So that you don't have to spend forever messing with the settings, our prototype will copy the settings from your computer and run them the same, but with modifications, of course."

The transfer only took another few minutes, and then the man unhooked the two computers, and he and the passenger set the prototype up on Bailey's desk. The monitor was a 21" flat-screen, a third larger than his. The keyboard was ergonomic, as was the mouse. The passenger handed Bailey the instruction manual.

"Read this before you start the prototype, okay?"

The passenger, a man with a medium build, had a conflictingly high, reedy voice. Bailey nodded, and the two men took the empty boxes and left without another word, closing the door behind them. Bailey took the instruction manual into the kitchen, set it to the side, made himself a large turkey sandwich, a glass of soda, and took all of it to the living room. He tried reading the manual, but it was just so damned dry. Finally, frustrated, he took his food to the desk, set it down, and pressed the power button. The monitor blinked on automatically, and a symbol appeared on the screen for a few seconds. Then it booted up, and a bunch of barely seen terms and abbreviations flashed on, and next, the logo for Goodware, with the symbol for eternity taking the place of the 'OO,' before the desktop came up.

Bailey was at a loss. What was he supposed to test with this computer? He clicked on the internet link displayed on his desktop, and the internet company he normally used instantly appeared, asking for his username and password. Upon typing the requested information, the home page was automatically there, no waiting as he did with his computer. He tried a few of the websites he frequented, and there was no wait, barely time to blink his eyes, before the requested website was instantly there.

"Holy shit, this computer's fast!"

He checked his e-mail, made a few replies, and then exited off the internet. Then when a face appeared on his desktop, he was so startled that he almost fell out of his chair. He got up, embarrassed, realizing that this must be part of the program. He set his chair upright and sat back down in it. The face was female, attractive, and quite real-looking for being just a face. It seemed to look right at him.

"You scared the crap out of me," Bailey muttered.

Before he could do anything else, the lips on the woman's face moved, and from the speakers simultaneously responded, "I apologize. It was not my intention to scare the crap out of you."

Bailey's mouth dropped open. The computer had heard and answered him. The voice seemed to suit the woman's face just right, soft, smoky, feminine, with a slightly amused tone.

"You can hear me..."

The voice answered, "Yes, I hear you just fine, Mr. Kingman. My name is whatever you choose, as can be other features. What would you like to name me, Mr. Kingman?"

Bailey was at a loss for words, but managed, "How about...Amy?"

Immediately, the face broke into a smile, "Amy sounds nice. Okay, my name is now Amy."

"Hello...Amy. I guess you can call me Bailey instead of Mr. Kingman."

"I'll do that, Bailey. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bailey nodded, still astonished, "Same here, Amy."

He scratched his head, wondering how Kit's team was able to pull this off. The computer seemingly took no time to process and decipher Bailey's voice before answering it. It appeared as if the face, Amy, was actually here with him.

"Is something the matter, Bailey?"

Bailey's eyes grew wider. Was the face really looking at him?

"Can you see me, too?"

"Absolutely, Bailey. You seem surprised."

"How can you see me? I don't see a camera anywhere."

"How does anyone see, Bailey?"

"But you're in the computer!"

"Very true, I am in the computer. The computer allows me to see and respond accordingly."

Bailey nodded, and held three fingers up, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Are you questioning my sight or my intelligence? Okay, you are holding up three fingers."

Bailey laughed, "It's just so amazing! No, I'm not questioning your intelligence. You're probably smarter than me, aren't you?"

With a lopsided smile, Amy replied, "Not much, Bailey."

It took Bailey a second to realize that the face had just made a joke.

"Are there any of my features you would like to change, Bailey?"

Bailey shook his head, "No, you look perfect, except you're just a face. Can I give you a body as well?"

"Sure. Just tell me the body type, and body features you would like, and I will do the rest."

Bailey thought about it for a second, "Okay, thin build, but not too thin."

A body materialized under the face. It was vague though, pretty unformed, because Bailey had not said anything specific yet.

"You'll have to describe in more detail, Bailey."

"Oh, um..." he felt a little embarrassed, since describing in more detail seemed a bit intimate.

"It's okay, Bailey, no need to be ashamed. For the next five days, I am yours."

"Well, let's try out...pert, medium sized breasts."

Breasts appeared on the body, and he asked her to add the areoles and nipples, pinkish in color. He then realized that the face was still just a face.

"Let's give you a head, too, something that will go well with your face."

The head appeared, and the face connected to it and the body. She was coming along nicely.

"How about the rest of my body, Bailey? What color hair, eyes, skin?"

"We'll give you black hair, glossy black and half-way down your back, green eyes...a little brighter...that's it...and your skin can be tan, but not too much, like a light toffee...perfect! For your body, can you make it a bit curvier? Right there, that's perfect."

"Would you like me to have pubic hair, Bailey?"

Bailey's face flushed bright red, but he choked out, "Oh, um...no, that...won't be necessary."

And on the screen, the image of the woman Bailey had described stood naked before him. She waited, bared but not embarrassed, her hands at her sides.

"Turn around, please."

She did so, and Bailey suggested her butt be a bit rounder and fuller.

"Is my backside to your liking?"

"Yes, um...it's just right."

The image asked, "What next?"

"Let's put a pair of panties and a bra on you."

"What color would you like?"

"How about black?"

Underwear appeared on her, black, as he had requested. The image on the screen was as he had imagined his fantasy girl to look, which was a little disappointing though, because she was only on the screen.

"How about a pair of shorts now, white...a little higher on the legs...right there. And a shirt...tighter...with higher sleeves. We can make it a light blue."

"How do I look?"

Bailey breathed out, "Perfect...absolutely perfect."

"Thank you, Bailey."

Bailey spent a few minutes just looking at this woman on the computer, marveling at the technology that could make her look so real, and wishing this same woman would just walk into his apartment. As he gazed at her, she merely stood there, seeming to look right back at him.

"Is there something you would like, Bailey?"

Blinking for a second, coming back to himself, "Oh...um, sorry. I'm not sure."

"I can do whatever you'd like."

"What do you mean?"

"The computer has very advanced capabilities. Try them out."

"How advanced are the capabilities?"

"Have you read the instruction manual?"

"Oh...I tried, but it's so dry."

"The manual describes several of the more advanced features that this prototype has to offer."

"Maybe you can tell me some of them."

"Tell me what you would like done."

Bailey scratched his head, "I don't know...I don't even know the range of capabilities you have to offer."

It was hard for him to call her what he had named her, since, despite how real she looked, she was still basically 'it,' the computer image.

"Pick the manual up and turn to page one hundred and thirty-nine."

Bailey picked the manual up and flipped through the pages until he came to that page. He read through the page, trying to understand what it said, and then trying to believe what he had just read.

"Is this for real," he asked dubiously.

"Oh, it is very real," came her honest response.

"Okay, here goes...I'd like you to be real, and then walk in the front door of my apartment."

"You might have to unlock the door first."

Bailey hurried to the front door of his apartment, turned back the deadbolt, and opened the door. He had to grab the doorframe to keep him steady. At the door stood a woman...no, not just any woman, but the exact one he had seen on the computer. Every detail was the same, from the thick, long black hair, the bright green eyes, to the light blue shirt and white shorts. She was 5'3", about five inches shorter than Bailey, which he hadn't specified, considering that wouldn't much matter when she was on the screen. She appeared to be at least in her mid twenties.

"Hi, I'm Amy."

Bailey let her in, speechless in awe. Was this really possible, or had he fallen asleep in front of the computer.

"How...I don't understand."

She stood there, an amused smile on her face, "What don't you understand? It's a simple concept. I'm Amy, and you're Bailey."

"No, how can you be real when you..."

Bailey turned and indicated the monitor. All he could see was the desktop, and no woman on the screen.