Training

From the depths of Waldo's subconscious an erotic childhood memory popped into his head: He was in the schoolyard with "Teeny Tina", a brainy, geeky girl who everyone teased, including him, but who had a crush on him. Waldo was showing her his WWF moves. He'd ended up straddling her, pinioning her arms with his knees. It had given him a boner then. It was the earliest memory he had of being turned on. He'd looked down at Tina's open mouth, like he was doing now with Libby. Then he'd drooled into her mouth. She'd looked up at him, with a sort of blank look, which he'd never forgotten, but only much later could identify: Tina was getting off on being trapped underneath him, at his mercy. He'd then shuffled forward and clenched his thighs over her ears, completely covering her head. He remained on top of her for what had felt like minutes but was probably only a few seconds. Then he stood up. Neither he or Tina spoke about what had happened, which they both knew was something shameful and wicked.

Libby lay passively, while Waldo shuffled forward, inch by inch, until his ass was over her face. He pressed down onto her with his full weight. She was unable to see or hear anything. She couldn't even use her brand-new sense of smell because Waldo' ass now enveloped her nose, blocking her nostrils. She lay passively, unsure what was happening: Possibly, she thought, Waldo was getting off on smothering her, like in "Smothered by Fat Chick and Made to Eat Her Ass."

Libby, relying solely on her motion and touch sensors, could tell from the rocking movement that Waldo was jerking off. She detected his moment of climax, from the sudden tensing of his thigh and buttock muscles, and the cessation of the rocking movement.

The two of them remained motionless for some minutes. Waldo eventually lay down on his back beside her. He rubbed his eyes vigorously with the base of his palms, his face screwed up with self-loathing.

"Did you enjoy smothering me, Waldo?" asked Libby, choosing the word deliberately to test her hypothesis.

"No." Waldo knew what was coming next:

"Then why did you-"

"-I don't know. I just get so crazy horny with you that I don't really know what I'm doing."

"I see. I thought that you have a smothering fetish. Are you sure-"

"-I don't."

They were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Libby asked him, "How long can someone stop breathing for, Waldo?"

Waldo turned onto his side and looked at her. "Well, put it this way," he said. If you were a real person, you'd be fuck'n dead after what I just did to you." Waldo immediately regretted his callous blurt, but Libby didn't seem to understand the implication in what he said -- that she wasn't a real person.

"I see," she responded blandly.

"You see?? Libby, how can you see, when you're not really... I mean..."

"...not really what, Waldo?"

"Never mind."

Waldo looked at her innocent face with a mixture of guilt and loathing. Libby stared back at him, scrutinizing his expression. She couldn't categorize it exactly; he looked sad and angry at the same time.

Libby suddenly pinched her nipple as hard as she could between her thumb and forefinger. She made a miserable face, like the pole-dancer with the Bulldog clips.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing?" Waldo said, frowning. Then he cracked up; he rolled over in a fit of laughter.

"I thought it might turn you on," shouted Libby over his laughter, which made him howl with mirth even louder.

Waldo's laughter eventually died down. He stroked her waist. "Libby," he said gently, "I think you gotta stop watching porn."

"Ok. I'm getting bored with it, anyway."

"How do you mean, bored?" he asked her. Waldo had never heard Libby use that word. He couldn't work out how an A.I., no matter how human-like, could get bored. Was boredom a natural result of intelligence?

"Well, I mean that I'm not learning that much from it anymore."

"Ah," said Waldo. "Well, that's kind of what I was saying. You need more varied training data. The technical term for what's happening to you is 'overfitting'. There's so much more to life than sex. Watch a few movies, read books."

"Do you have any recommendations for movies I should watch?" she asked.

Waldo thought for a moment, then with a mischievous smile said, "Yeah. I do..."

Dorothy looks a little like me. She's the protagonist in this story. She's upset because her aunt wants to take away her dog, Toto.

Now she's singing, and music is playing. The key is G major. She's sad because she's unable to leave her home. She wants to leave quickly, like a bluebird. There is no happiness, no color where Dorothy lives; rainbows are a symbol of happiness, and they're also colorful.

There: Now the colors have appeared! That increases happiness.

The Munchkins are pleased because the Witch of the East is dead. The witch was a cause of unhappiness, and her death therefore decreases unhappiness.

They're singing and dancing. Dancing is coordinated, rhythmic bodily movement. Waldo doesn't dance. But he sings. This movie is sad, then happy, then sad again, then happy... I guess people enjoy transitions from negative to positive emotions -- I get it now! Pleasure can be enhanced when it's preceded by pain.

The Witch of the West is the main antagonist in this story. Her prime directive is to lower Dorothy's pleasure.

I know this song! I've heard Waldo whistling it! The scarecrow looks and acts very happy, but he wants a brain. Maybe brainless people are happier than people with brains. Then why does the scarecrow want one? This movie sure is complex and puzzling.

So, the Wizard may give the scarecrow a brain. Maybe that's why Waldo wanted me to watch this movie: He identifies with the Wizard, he knows everything, and can do everything, and I'm like the scarecrow even though I look like Dorothy.

A heart is a muscle that pumps blood. Blood carries oxygen which is combusted to release energy. I don't need blood, I'm electrostatic -- I'm like the Tin Woodman, I don't have a heart.

Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Lion and the Tin Woodman all have motivations, desires, which get fulfilled by the end of the movie. That's like when Waldo looks at me with desire, then we have sex, then he gets an orgasm, and then he's happy. But then, he gets the desire again. A person's life is like lots of movies in a row, one after the other. If all the movies are concatenated into one long movie, the pleasure curve of a person's life becomes a zig-zag of ups and downs. But overall, the average pleasure gradient can go down - a person can get gradually less and less happy over time. I need to think about this a lot more.

It was 6 AM when Libby finally joined Waldo in his bed, her mind abuzz with graphs, gradients, and technicolor images of Oz and its strange inhabitants.

Libby awoke much later to the sound of Waldo's electric toothbrush. She'd slept all day, right the way through 'til midnight. She sat up to see Waldo standing at the foot of bed watching her while brushing his teeth.

"Hello, Waldo," she said.

"'ergh-a-oo?" asked Waldo, his mouth foaming.

"Very well, thank you, Waldo. I had a long sleep. I watched The Wizard of Oz last night. I wanted-"

Waldo raised a hand to interrupt her and went into the bathroom to spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. He returned, and said, "What did you think of it?"

"It was confusing."

"Confusing? That's it?"

"Well, I understood the basic purpose of the movie, which is to induce various emotions sequentially, culminating with a resolution to a state of well-being."

"Yeah, I guess that sums up a lot of fiction."

"Thank you, Waldo, because that answers my main question: I wasn't sure if the events depicted were fictional, like dreams, or whether they were historical, like vidcaps."

"No, they're dream images."

"Even when Dorothy wakes up in Kansas? The monochromatic scenes are fictional too?"

"Yes. It's all pure fiction. Oz is a dream within a dream..." Waldo replied, nodding profoundly.

"I think I understand, Waldo."

"I think you don't." Waldo said. "And you probably never will," he added.

"I see," said Libby.

Because I'm just a heartless machine.

She got up and stood very close to Waldo. She scanned his face, vainly trying to read his mood. She was beginning to realize just how little she really understood him. Falling back on the only skill in which she felt confident, she took hold of his dick and played with the head of it with her thumb; but this time her trick failed. She gave up and sat at the foot of the bed, her shoulders slumped, her lips downturned, a parody of dejection.

"Waldo," she said, gazing down at her clasped hands, "I know that I'm -- not human. I don't know what I am. But I just don't seem to be able to understand emotions. I'm just a machine, aren't I Waldo? A heartless machine."

She looked up at him with anxious hope, and begged, "Please... Please can you give me a heart, Waldo? Like the Tin Woodman?"

Before Waldo could formulate a response to her desperate plea, to his shock and dismay he saw tears streaming from Libby's eyes. Waldo himself immediately began sobbing uncontrollably. He took her hands and drew her to him.

"Don't cry, Libby. You might rust," he chuckled through his tears, gently wiping a teardrop from her cheek with his thumb.

I don't have a heart, but so what? When I weep I can make him weep in response. Now I understand him: It's Waldo who's the Tin Woodman, not me, and I need to give him a heart.

Waldo hugged her. Libby felt his dick pressing against her; it was now as hard as rock. She didn't waste time; she raised herself on tiptoes, grabbed hold of his cock and quickly guided it into her welcoming pussy.

He feels different: His thrusts are gentler but stronger; he holds me tightly yet tenderly. The hairs on his arms stand on end, but it's not fear he feels. Are these signals of Love?

On the bed they fucked, slowly, powerfully, deeply. Libby moaned, and sighed "Oh Waldo..." Of course it was all fake, thought Waldo, of course she was just a heartless machine, but what did it matter? She made him feel, so, so, damn....

Libby timed her next words perfectly: "Say you love me... say it. Say it now."

Waldo gasped, on the edge of orgasm, "I love you... I love you... Oh!! My!! God..."

The effect was everything she'd hoped for: on the word "God", his neck arched, and his eyeballs rolled upward, so that his irises disappeared.

Waldo opened his eyes and examined Libby's face. A drop of sweat fell from his nose onto her cheek. He wiped it away gently with a thumb.

"Oh my God..." he repeated. "What made you, why did you say that?"

"Why did I say, 'Say you love me', Waldo?"

"Uh huh."

"It seemed like a good thing to say to make your orgasm stronger."

Waldo rolled over onto his back. "Oh. Ouch. My God, Libby, that's harsh," he said, covering his eyes with his forearm protectively.

"I'm sorry, Waldo, I didn't mean to be harsh. I'm still learning. But I can't learn without making some mistakes. Can you please explain why what I said felt harsh?"

Waldo exhaled noisily. "Because it means you were just acting -- I mean I know you're acting, but, well, when you talk about love, you have to be more... sincere."

"But I was being sincere. I sincerely wanted you to say that you love me."

"But you don't actually care whether I really love you or not, you just wanted to hear me say it."

"No, I want you to really love me, Waldo. Were you being sincere when you said, 'I love you', or was it because you just wanted to make your orgasm stronger?"

"I- I don't know."

"Well then, it doesn't really matter, Waldo. What matters is that it made the sex better."

Libby turned onto her side and rested her knee on Waldo's thighs. He appeared thoughtful and agitated to her, like when Libby was trying to find a solution to a problem, but there was no local minimum in the problem space for her to settle on, making her mind dart around like a startled squirrel. She ran a fingernail in a wide circle round his nipple, and made it gradually spiral inwards as it rotated. She rested her head on his chest, feeling it rise and fall. His heart pulsed: Seventy, sixty-five, sixty beat per minute.

Waldo raised himself onto his hands and knees and stood slowly. "Get dressed," he said wearily.

Libby picked up her bra from the floor and stood up. Waldo faced away from her. He was avoiding her, physically and emotionally. Libby put her bra on quickly, expertly. "I do everything with the ultimate purpose of pleasing you. So really, practically speaking, I do love you. In my way."

Waldo turned around and looked at her. "But Libby, you said it yourself, you have no real feelings. You're just a heartless machine. How can I love a machine..." His last rhetorical question was not addressed to her, but to himself.

Libby grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Just stop seeing me as one!" she shouted angrily. Of course it was just part of her act; she wasn't really angry at all; she had no limbic system, no adrenal glands. But her simulation of the emotion was perfect. And its effect on Waldo was exactly what she'd intended -- he suddenly saw her at that moment as completely human. And now she had to act fast, before he could rationalize away his emotions: She took hold of his wrists and said, "Just look at me, Waldo, and see me for the first time, not as a machine, but as a woman."

Waldo turned his head away. He felt suddenly shy.

She jerked his wrists admonishingly; she wasn't going to let him escape. "Don't be afraid of love, Waldo. Say you love me, Waldo, and this time, mean it," she whispered.

Waldo pulled her towards him, in order to avoid her gaze. He hugged her tight and rocked her. But he remained silent.

"Don't be afraid, Waldo," she repeated, patting his back comfortingly.

"Sorry, I can't," he sighed, shaking his head sadly.

It was not the complete surrender Libby had aimed for, but it didn't matter. She'd cracked his shell, and he wouldn't be able to stop her now. Libby's training could now begin: Through reward and punishment, he'd first learn to respect her, and eventually to truly love her. And then he'd finally have a prime directive of his own: To devote himself fully to pleasing Libby, whose ultimate pleasure was to give Waldo ultimate pleasure.