Come Home With Me

[TheSpotConlon]

Here's something I cooked up tonight, riffing on various conversations I've had over the past few days. Mostly I just wanted to get off my butt and write something. Enjoy!

“What would it take for you to come home with me?”

She wasn't expecting him to say that. Honestly, she only had so many experiences on which to draw her reactions, and most of them were with him. It took her a moment to register what he said, and then even longer to formulate a response. There was nothing in her admittedly short memory to aid her here. Men who came to see her were always looking for a quick screw, or to vent about their lives and the people they knew in the outside world before she sucked them off.

If she were human, they would call her a madam, or a whore. She was neither, because she wasn't real. Or at least not real enough to have a life outside of her cramped apartment. When she was born, they called her K7J-2003-005. She was a top-of-the-line companion android, what a few short years ago they would have called a robot, or just simply impossible. She had memories going back to the Reagan years (for cultural references, they said), but the truth was that she was no more than three. She was a phony in every sense of the word, and that's why men, as well as the occasional woman or transgender, would pay good money to be with her. They'd say a few words, and immediately she'd become their fantasy, ready to pleasure them in any way they wanted. She'd been everything from a twelve-year-old girl to a Russian dominatrix to Joan Jett. She wasn't sure what happened all the time, because many customers asked that their time be wiped from her hard drives. During her downtime she thought about the moments she could remember, and wondered to herself if she even had a real default personality, or if her programming could even support such a thing. It didn't trouble her all that much–she must have been programmed not to be upset by it one way or the other–but it was a stimulating intellectual exercise while waiting for the next client.

Truth be told, if there was anything like a real personality, a default or a base within her, it came out whenever he visited. He was the only one where she exhibited the truly incredible part of her programming, that of her realistic Artificial Intelligence. It allowed for certain freedoms of thought and emotion, brought upon by her experience base, a cumulative six years of knowledge and memories from a young girl in Maine who grew up to be a programmer on the project. Among these experiences was the sight of a spider with an orange body and green legs building a nest, part of an old Turing Test whose coincidental inclusion was not lost on the other members of the AI Team. From here K7J drew her initial sentiments of irony. And it was from the gentleman in the bed next to her that she first experienced anticipation. He did not dictate every part of their encounter, and he seemed genuinely interested to see where they would go if her systems were allowed to run their course. It pleased her that she was able to be useful beyond the obvious, and she looked forward to their scheduled appointments. He had even dictated a name for each time he saw her: she was always Kaitlin, and he always addressed her as such. She had begun to think of herself as “Kaitlin” when sorting her memories, allowing herself an identity which made it easier to make sense of her new data. She enjoyed that he gave her this opportunity.

If she were human, you would say that she liked him.

But she did not know how to respond to his query. There were undefined parameters, and it required movement outside of the designated area during an appointment. Would that require an extra charge? Would she need to update the license agreement he had signed? How long would they be gone, and would this impede on her other clients for the week?

He stared at her as her artificial mind attempted to process the variables. It was obviously taxing on her, as she had stopped all of her autonomous functions. For the first time, she looked less like a person and more like a thing. There were pieces of furniture in the room which moved more than her. She did not move for a long while, and when she did it was only because her logic circuits had reached the only possible conclusion: he was attempting to set up a game. Yes. She had noticed that some of her human clients often attempted to initiate a new scenario through subtle verbal innuendo rather than direct commands; due to the phrasing, and the odd nature of the request, this had to be the case.

Adapting a sultry and mischievous look, Kaitlin turned to her client. “I don't know, baby,” she said, running one of her fingers over his shoulder. “What do you have to offer me?”

He shrugged her off. It was the first time he had been anything but completely receptive to her, and she did not understand. “I'm being serious, Kaitlin. I don't know if I can deal with just seeing you here.” She took a moment to read his facial expression, his heart rate, pupil dilation. He was telling the truth. There was no trickery here, no continuation of some game for her to play. He was asking a legitimate question, and all of hers suddenly returned.

“What do you mean, come home with you? Do you want to know if I make house calls? I have never entertained a client outside of this domicile–”

“Kaitlin, I want to buy you. Outright. Or, I don't know, work out a situation where I'm the only client or something...” He began to backtrack when he saw her reaction. Despite her profession, and her general programming, she didn't like the idea of being a commodity. It didn't take any certainty in her sentience to know that she liked some say over her fate. He continued gingerly. “Look. I know that we're indulging in fantasy here, but I can say that I don't feel about any human girl the way I feel about you. And I want to keep that around as much as I can, and hey, it might even be better for you as well. We'd have a hell of a social life, I can guarantee you that.”

The last statement piqued her interest. She recalled nights on the town, but most of them could be dismissed as the implanted reminisces of that girl in Maine. Kaitlin wondered if she would be able to handle herself like a human in social situations. She wondered if she could do anything other than cater to fantasies. His offer was looking more intriguing by the second, but she wasn't going to give up her position right away. She was not manufactured to deal with only one client, and despite the fact that she operated autonomously her programming was rather rigid in how she dealt with her profession. “I don't know. You say you want to be my only lover, correct?”

“That would be the gist of it, yeah.”

“Well, how would I create my income? The K7J model line was only created to act as a companion service android.”

He seemed to think for a moment. He did it in a distinctly human manner, cradling his fingers together and tapping them against his lips. The more he thought, the more he fidgeted. Then he spoke, slowly at first as he gathered his thoughts. “How much compensation is your current employer expecting per month?”

“I don't have one. I was manufactured as an autonomous unit, but my directives state that I must continue at my work in order to pay for service and upkeep. Besides, I like what I do. I'm...I'm programmed to enjoy it.” There was that word again. The moments when she wondered if she was truly sentient. Programmed to. What did it mean? Was it any better than what he was offering? Was his better? She couldn't tell. She called up a file in her empirical base, buried deep under practical knowledge and sexual prowess: the image of a girl, ostensibly her, in a field with some boy. Incredibly young, and incredibly in love in that sickening teenage way. If she were human she might find it nauseatingly twee. But she had never encountered anything quite like that, and it excited her. She made sure not to let it show on her exterior, which was a simple matter of indicating “no” to a few of the programs on her heads-up display.

He smirked. It was like he could read the inner discussion she was having, even though that was impossible. “Well, if money is no object, then I have enough for the both of us. I'd take care of it all, especially the repairs and upgrades. I know you don't eat, so that's already not a problem. I mean, a good husband should provide.”

She could not contain her shock. “You'd be a what now?” It wasn't umbrage, but rather a complete lack of reference. Nobody wanted an android as a permanent companion, at least not in that way. They wanted something to screw. She understood that.

“Well, that's the best word to describe it, right? You'll be living in my home, my companion, the two of us...I mean, call me old fashioned, but it might end up working like a marriage. I mean, if you accept.”

Her internal logic buffers went nuts trying to justify this behavior. What was he trying to do? What part of this made any sense in terms of their previous escapades? Why would a human client offer to pay for the extended upkeep of a used companion android? Her systems were a mess, so one by one she flicked them off. Her online programs slowly disappeared one by one, until the only one left running was the experience base. Images of that young girl in the field, laughing in the arms of a gawky and inexperienced lad, and then one of her staring directly in the mirror. “Kaitlin,” she said, “don't ever let what you have to do get in the way of what you want to do.”

Kaitlin. Her name was Kaitlin too.

She would have to clear her schedule. Maybe find an android to replace her. Some model that would be willing and able to act as a full-time pleasure provider. And she couldn't leave right away; even androids had to give two weeks notice. The extra money would come in handy for a rainy day. That's a phrase, right? Rainy day? She would have to learn more if she was going to move from fantasy to reality...

Kaitlin did not let any of this show. She stood up from the bed, rigid and with her arms at her side. Emotionless, she looked at him and said, “please return and your regularly scheduled time next week. This unit will be able to answer you then. Thank you for choosing a K7J Autonomous Industries Companion Android.” She knew he loved it, even when he began to protest. He quickly realized it was futile, and with a smile he told her he'd be back in a week.

When he was safely out the door she relaxed and headed for her charging station, hoping that her time deactivated would make next week come all the faster...

[33cl33]

Love it!

Can't wait to see a continuation!

[nybble]

Nice. Thank you for sharing.

[DollSpace]

That was really beautiful...and it better continue!

Catie

[AK]

[POST REMOVED]

[Outsider]

"Wow. Janice, you have to read this."

"What? I know you like these stories, Sara, but they don't click for me the way they do for you."

"Trust me. You have to read this one..."

:)

[BA2]

Good stuff, I look forward to some more....

BA

[confusitron!]

Excellent as always. Your stories are too rare a pleasure.