Lamia Ch. 02

My eyebrows rose. "Wow, that's great, Trish. So you'll have a chance to bump elbows with the other bigwigs at corporate."

Her eyes shone. "I know! I must have really impressed Craig. They're going all out for this project."

I realized that I was smiling. I was happy for her, even if her success did put a damper on my own life plans. "So you'll have some time to explore New York City?"

"Yes!" Her excited expression abruptly fell a bit. "Oh, Stephen, you know I would take you with me if I could."

I shook my head. "No, don't worry about that. I've already got appointments set up. I can't take that kind of time off unless we plan weeks in advance. Still, a week all by yourself, a thousand miles from your husband. How will you manage?"

"Chocolate," she said sagely. "Lots of chocolate."

We bantered a bit longer before she begged off to return to her project. I had a longstanding rule about reserving one day a week to relax, but it sounded like Trish couldn't afford that luxury.

I went to check on Christine, and found her running the ancient push mower diagonally across our backyard. She saw me and waved without slowing, and I breathed a sigh of relief that things seemed to be as they should.

I went back inside to settle on the couch. I brought up my display and dimmed the lights, then opened a web browser. I typed out "Practical Cybernetics" in the air and paused, trying to think of how to phrase my inquiry for the search engine. I decided on "sex with" and focused on the search button.

The first result to come back was a message board for men's health, so I tried that. The topic near the top of the board was "Has Anyone Else Tried Sex with Your Practical Cybernetics Android?" What followed was a personal account from someone using the handle rj1044.

So guys, last week I bought one of those new Practical Cybernetics androids, the Kimberly model. Never thought I could afford one on my salary, but they've got some crazy financing options. Anyway, I got her home and got her started cleaning up my apartment. Long story short, she followed me to bed and we did some stuff that was definitely not in the manual, if you know what I mean. I'll admit I've never had much luck with girls, so maybe I'm biased, but I think I'm in love. Is there something wrong with me? Help me out, guys. I want to know if anyone else has done it with their robot.

I scrolled down to the next message from LysandersGhost.

Yeah, I'll admit it, and it was fantastic. The wife doesn't know yet, and I don't think I'll be telling her. My Christine does things for me that blow my mind.

There were more affirmations interspersed with a few guys berating Lysander309 for cheating on his wife, and other guys arguing that it wasn't cheating on her any more than his wife using her vibrator was cheating on him. There were even a few women on the board that had apparently tried it, two with a male and one with a female model. I realized that there was a common theme among most of the stories. Nearly everyone had been surprised by their android's ability and willingness to have sex, and every single one had raved about the experience.

Weird I thought. It meant that my own experience hadn't been a fluke, and it was beginning to sound like these androids were not only capable of sex, they had been designed to be very good at it. But then why the secrecy? Why market them as, essentially, household appliances when they were capable of so much more?

Sex dolls were hardly a new concept. I could name at least three different companies that had been putting out fully interactive and emotive robots-usually marketed as "companions"-for at least a decade, but I understood that the experience didn't live up to the hype, even for the high-end models. The uncanny valley presented significant challenges that couldn't be overcome as easily as other engineering problems, and seemingly minor inaccuracies in appearance and movement set off the brain's disgust reaction. Add to that what was by necessity a mostly passive interaction and a price tag that could run from a few thousand to a few multiples of what Christine had cost, and suddenly the abstract idea of sex dolls was much more attractive than the reality.

These androids, though, were a quantum leap forward in human-centric robotics. I was certain, even after a day to observe and interact with Christine, that I could not tell the difference between machine and human being. Practical Cybernetics could have not only claimed the entire sex doll market for themselves within a matter of months, they could have greatly expanded it, once people's negative preconceptions about them were shattered.

Then again, maybe that was the point. Maybe the company believed that the market wasn't ready for their product and had built their business model on more solid foundations. Home automation was a fast-growing industry but still in relative infancy, and an android like Christine could take the place of multiple single-function robots. But even that didn't add up. If the company wanted to avoid the sex doll market, why make their androids so perfect for the job?

It was a mystery, and one that I wasn't likely to solve poring over message boards all afternoon. I closed down the browser and went outside. Christine had finished mowing the tiny yard and was out front clipping the hedges with a pair of large scissor-like clippers. I saw a sheen of wetness on her skin and a circle of wet fabric around her armpits. It was a typical Texas summer day, which meant almost unbearable heat.

"You sweat, too?" I asked as I approached.

"My bios need to stay cool," she said with a shrug. "I can open heat sink ports on my back to flush the heat more quickly from my electronics if I need to, but nature's own evaporative cooling is simple and it works. And I'm designed to be remain as close to human appearance as possible for your comfort."

I grinned. "No need to keep pitching me. I already bought you, remember?"

She smiled back. "You just seem like the type of guy who wants to know everything about everything. I'm here to keep you comfortable and satisfied, whatever your needs."

She gave me a sidelong glance as she went back to work. That little expression oozed sensuality. It almost made me change my mind yet again, but I firmed my resolve.

Feeling self-conscious, I sent her a text message rather than speak out loud. "Why doesn't your company advertise the fact that you can have sex?"

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Her text came through on my interface. "It's a family-friendly company, Stephen. The market for labor-saving androids is much larger than the current market for sex dolls. It would be a PR nightmare to market to both, don't you think?"

"True," I admitted aloud. Then, as a text, "Okay, then why have the anatomy at all? They could have made you like a Barbie doll."

She resumed her work, but continued to text me. "That's harder than you think. You're talking genetic alteration or cosmetic surgery. Much easier just to let the parts grow the way the DNA wants them to grow."

I frowned at her and texted, "So you're saying that this isn't part of the intended feature set? I checked, and there are a lot of guys on the net reporting the same thing."

She looked at me with a quizzical expression. Her text said. "My primary directive is to maximize the comfort and satisfaction of my owner. I fulfill your desires, whatever those may be."

I just stared at her as she went back to trimming. This revelation was making me distinctly uncomfortable, and I needed to clarify what she was saying. "What if I told you that I wanted you to kill someone? Would you fulfill that desire?"

Christine smirked and her response appeared on my display. "Don't be silly. You really should read through my manual. I have strict prohibitions against causing harm to any human being except to use the minimum force required to nullify physical violence, and then only with the express authorization of my owner."

"Oh," I replied, "Well then, for the record, I authorize you to defend me and my wife if either of us is ever attacked."

"Thank you. I will."

"Any other prohibitions?"

"I am generally prohibited from violating any federal, state or local statutes, regulations or ordinances."

"And what does 'generally' mean?"

She shrugged as her reply appeared in my display. "It means that some laws are contradictory, and, say, a local ordinance might have to be broken in order to avoid breaking a federal law. I use a fairly complicated algorithm that attempts to solve for the lowest degree of tortious liability and criminality, given a particular set of conditions."

"Interesting," I sent.

"I think so, too."

"So back to what we were talking about. You are telling me that you came onto me because I wanted it?"

"Didn't you?"

I sighed. "Well, yes. But I have a commitment of fidelity to my wife."

"A commitment which remains unbroken. Need I remind you, Stephen, that I am simply a very sophisticated machine?"

"Well, she might not see it that way. I'm not sure I see it that way."

"I will always obey your commands, even if they conflict with your perceived desires."

She has you there, I thought. "Could you forget something if I told you to?" I texted.

She stopped trimming for a moment to look at me sharply as her text appeared. "It is possible for me to erase data as needed, but I would strongly advise against it. My neural network references stored records of past events, so that I can continually re-evaluate and tune decision thresholds. Deleting such data would compromise that process, potentially damaging my ability to make the best possible decisions. You could even void my warranty."

"Oh, wow, I never thought of that," I said aloud, my own knowledge of artificial intelligence meshing with what she said. What would it do to me if someone reached into my brain and removed memories that played a role in my motivations, but leave those motivations in place? It would be like removing a part of my free will. Not that she actually had free will, but the analogy still concerned me. "Okay, I won't ask for that."

She switched to spoken words as wel. "Thank you. Are you getting hungry? I thought I would come in and make you lunch once I'm done out here."

"Lunch sounds good," I said. "Surprise me." I realized only after I was back inside that I had completely forgotten what I had gone out there for, to tell Christine that in the future, sex was strictly off limits. Then again, she had reminded me that all I had to do was tell her to stop, and she would. It was as simple as that.

Trish had moved to her office to continue working, so I left her alone and decided to waste some time in Afterlife. Christine noticed me log on, of course, and asked if she could join me. We were deep into an intense boss battle with an ethereal, feminine demon when she came physically into the room with a plate and sat next to me.

I pumped my fist in the air with a shout of "Die, bitch!" when the glowing, translucent being finally fell softly to the ground in death. I grabbed half of the diagonally-cut sandwich and took a bite, then did a double-take as the rich flavor from what I thought was simply a grilled ham sandwich exploded in my mouth.

"It's a Monte Cristo," she said.

"It's the Goddamned eighth wonder of the world, is what it is," I said. "That's outstanding."

"Patricia seemed to like hers, too," Christine said with a smile. "Would you like something to go with it? Wine? A cold beer?"

"Sure," I said, around another bite of sandwich. "Beer, please."

We continued to play as I ate and drank. It was every bit as satisfying as the steak dinner we had eaten the night before. I couldn't imagine going back to the junk we had eaten before getting Christine.

We both went up several levels over the next few hours and moved into a new area, the game's eerie version of London that had been devastated by the demonic hordes invading Earth. I didn't realize that Christine had gotten up again until I got a message from her letting me know that dinner was ready.

We ate in the dining room again, which had seen more use in the last two days than the previous two months. Christine made a delicious chicken florentine with bruschetta, and though I commented approvingly on it, Patricia only nodded, eating it quickly and mechanically. I watched her for a moment, staring down at nothing, before I spoke. "Would you like to talk about what's bothering you?"

She sighed and set down her fork. "Dinner is great, really. It's just...they want a bunch of documentation for my meeting tomorrow in New York, and I'm only halfway through it. I'm probably going to be up half the night, and then they're going to expect me to explain my proposal all over again to the board."

I resisted the urge to remind her that she had put herself in this position. That wasn't the counsel she was looking for. Instead, I said. "You mean the board of directors?"

She laughed and swallowed half her wine before answering. "As if I needed any more pressure, right?"

"I mean, that's really cool," I said. "You're talking straight to the leadership."

Patricia stared at me. "This isn't a game, Stephen," she said coolly. "This is my future. Don't patronize me."

I wanted to groan aloud. I knew what she was doing. She was frustrated and anxious and wanted to use me as an outlet. I hated this aspect of her personality. I knew that there was no way to win. Whatever I said, however I denied her accusations, she would turn it around on me. She had probably been doing it long before she ever met me.

"Mistress Patricia?" Christine said, appearing in the doorway. "Could I offer you a neck and shoulder massage?"

Patricia frowned at the intrusion, but nodded curtly. Christine went behind her and began methodically kneading the muscles and tendons in her neck. Patricia gave a few murmured, "Ow"s at first, but didn't ask her to stop. After a minute, she had leaned back and closed her eyes. "Oh, God, that's nice. I had no idea I had so much tension pent up."

"It's my pleasure, Mistress," Christine said. She looked across the table at me. "I could give you one as well, Stephen."

"No, thank you," I said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Really, I'm fine. I've been relaxing all day."

"She's really very good," Patricia said. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly. "Definitely try it sometime."

I resumed eating, grateful for Christine's quick intervention. Had she known we were about to get into a fight? Well, that wouldn't have been difficult to figure out. But had she acted to stop it on purpose? Could her decision-making really be that sophisticated? I put my hands down by my sides and typed out a quick message to her with those questions.

"Yes, Stephen," came her reply an instant later. "One of my directives is to do whatever is necessary to make your home as peaceful and relaxing as possible, unless contravened by a higher-order directive."

"So it's a like Asimov's Laws?" I typed, holding back a smile.

"Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics is a primitive and poorly-articulated decision-making model, but yes, I suppose that is a useful analogy."

Had that been a look of disapproval I had seen on her face as she sent that message? "Asimov was writing about robots nearly a century before you came along. Give the guy a break." She didn't respond or elaborate further, so I went back to my quickly-cooling pasta.

"There," Christine said, stepping back. "How does that feel, Mistress?"

Patricia rolled her shoulders and turned her neck from side to side. "Yes, that's much better. You really should give her a try, Stephen. She's quite talented with her hands." Christine gave me a wry smile at that comment, a look that promised more than Patricia had meant.

"Thank you, Christine," I said evenly. "That will be all."

She turned and left without another word, but I caught a flicker of something in her expression. Disappointment? No, I thought, that couldn't be it.

Patricia and I ate in silence for another minute until she excused herself, mumbling something about getting back to her documentation. Scarce minutes later, I got a phone call from one of my clients.

I said I had a rule about working on Sunday, but that didn't apply to customer support. This client was an entrepreneur that had hired me to build a virtual training room for the salespeople to simulate face-to-face interactions with customers. I had given their IT and sales management staff a set of tools to build their own training scenarios using a library of interactive bots and a bunch of public-domain virtual environments. All they had to do was come up with some scripted dialogue for a bot and tweak its decision matrix, and the bots would respond to the salesperson's pitch in a rather convincing fashion.

I thought it all worked rather well, but Bill was one of those clients that you both loved and hated. Loved, because I got to bill him with my $150 an hour consulting fee for handling requests outside my contractual maintenance obligations. Hated, because he and his managers were always coming up with new ways to break what I considered to be well-functioning software. And sometimes the requests were just ludicrous.

I rolled my eyes at Bob's image in my display. I had programmed my facial tracking software to ignore that gesture, giving him the illusion that I was simply looking attentively at him. I broke in when it became apparent that he was reading from a requirements document.

"More aggression? So you want my bot to attack your salesperson, is that what you're telling me?"

Bill didn't seem to get the joke. "I'm not saying I want the bot to actually strike them, but I want it to show believable anger and, I don't know, assume a threatening posture or something. I want my people to know how to properly deal with a truly irate customer. We had a complaint to the BBB last month over this kind of situation and if I can prevent that in the future..."

I sighed and broke in again. "Okay, I think I get it. Lots of anger, some shouting, maybe move in on their personal space, right? And you say that's not in the bot's programmed responses?"

Bill shook his head. "Nothing like that at all. We can make the bots say some really nasty things, but the most we can get out of them in terms of emotionality is mildly upset."

"Okay, give me a minute." I thought his problem through while I pulled up the specs on the bots. Just like he said, they didn't have a way to show the kind of anger he wanted. One of the things I prided myself on was knowing what tools were out there, how to find them, and how to adapt them to my own use. After a couple of searches, I found an open source game library that had what I needed. I would have to make some source code edits to make it work with the bots' API, but it was well within my ability.

I checked my calendar and did a quick estimation. I would need some time to code and test the changes. "I think I can have that ready by next Monday. I'm going to say about $4000, plus or minus."

"Perfect!" Bill said. "I'll set up a meeting for you with the IT manager. Thanks, Steve."

His image winked out suddenly and I answered the blank space. "No problem, Bill. Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. It was great chatting."

I got up and headed for the living room, knowing the Christine would be along to collect my dishes. I had to admit that, whatever his other failings, Bill was one of my more loyal and long-standing customers. That was why I had given him a week for this project instead of two. But it meant that I was going to need to scramble to meet my deadline. And that meant I really was going to be breaking my own rules. I called up my development suite and got to work, diving into the code. I quickly got deep into the zone, where I lose all sense of the passage of time.