The Gentleman Incubus

by E. M. Hardy

  “You mean suckers like you… uh, no offense, brother.”

  “None taken,” Glenn replied smoothly, internally noting how frustrated Lee must really be if he was letting his mouth work faster than his brain.

  “Anyway, we’re severely short on people right now,” Lee barreled on, attempting to derail the discussion away from his slip of the tongue. “You coming back now will be a big help—even for just half the day.” He clicked his tongue, gesturing Glenn to follow him through the virtual hallways of the Immentrop-Reubens worker app.

  They eventually came up to Glenn’s cubicle—a portal leading into the garden landscape where Glenn would handle his clients for the day. Lee paused at the entrance, shaking his head as he turned to Glenn.

  “It’s super weird. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tiffany just upped and disappeared all of a sudden. But Rob, Melanie, and Marick? Those three are some of our most dedicated CSRs, professional every time I meet up with them. It’s uncharacteristic of them to just drop out like that without leaving word.”

  Glenn nodded solemnly, lips pressed together in a neutral frown. This was the expression that the manuals described as ‘safely sympathetic.’ Honestly though, he would rather Lee just walk away and let him get to work. The sooner he wrapped up his workload, the sooner he could log out and get working on finding a new source of life points for himself.

  He didn’t want to risk insulting Lee though, not when he was already agitated, so he decided to continue expressing sympathy.

  “I hope they’re safe and healthy,” replied Glenn with a nod. “Something might have happened to them. I mean, I might not be the only guy out there whose implant glitched out.”

  “All four of them?” Lee stared at Glenn, his avatar’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Not likely but… shit, that’s a possibility I just can’t ignore.” Lee turned away, cussing softly for a few seconds before inhaling deeply and turning back to face Glenn. “I’ll try contacting them in the alt-world one more time before sending a drone to check up on them in the real-world.”

  Lee’s avatar then coughed into a balled fist, pointedly looking away at Glenn. “Right. Thanks for the idea. Now I’d best get going and leave you to your work.”

  “Sure thing, Lee. I hope that everyone’s all right.”

  “Yeah, me too... now get to work already!”

  ***

  “Good day, Mister Savarni. I’m Glenn Olson, at your service. How may I help you today?”

  “Oh, finally! I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Ten minutes! Can you believe that!?”

  “Our apologies for making you wait, Mister Savarni. How may I help you with your concerns?

  “Pff. Right… I bought a fembot a couple days ago, and it’s starting to smell really funky after using it for the first time. I tried washing it out, scooping dried spunk out of its ass and pussy, but I can’t get rid of the funky smell. Can you help me out here?”

  “I see. Yeah, just to clear things up, Mister Savani: did you turn on your fembot’s personality protocols?”

  “Personality protocols? Whussat?”

  “Sapience protocols are a series of algorithms that allow Immentrop-Reubens products to simulate sapience without actually achieving sapience itself. Our Companion series allows you to pick personalities that not only suit your personal preferences, but also maintains itself after each round of use.”

  “…”

  “That’s the fancy-schmancy explanation that my boss says I gotta give if I wanna keep my job. Boiling all that down: did you turn on your fembot before using it?”

  “Uh… no. I just started banging away as soon as I opened the box.”

  “Then that’s the problem right there. See, you gotta turn it on with a voice command. That command oughtta be with the papers packaged in the box. It’s this set of numbers and letters that will activate the fembot. It’ll recognize your voice, hook up with your implant ID, and then recognize you as its master.”

  “Ooooh.”

  “Once it does that, it’ll ask you how you want it to talk. Smart and sexy? Cute and innocent? Hot as a hooker hungry for cock? You get whatever you want. Once its personality is set, it’ll start taking care of itself. That includes cleaning itself out after you’re done using it. Oh, and it’ll also clean up around the home as well. Do the dishes, pick up laundry, even whip up a home-cooked meal if you want it to.”

  “Oooooooh. Like my own wifey, eh?”

  “Yeah, just like a wifey… minus the nagging and sneaking credits from your account.”

  “HAH! Yeah, that sounds a hella lot better than my ex.”

  “Right? Oh yeah… do you still have the box with you? Or at least the papers that come with the box? Should include the activation link.”

  “The box? Oh yeah, the box that the fembot shipped in. I… whoops. I think I tossed it out with the trash.”

  “That’s all right, Mister Savarni. I’ll just send you a link via your implant. Just fill in the forms, provide proof of your identity, and you’ll get the code to turn on your new wifey!”

  ***

  “Good day, Miss Zavadilová. I’m Glenn Olson, at your service. How may I help you today?”

  “About time. The farmhands your company sold to me don’t work. I want to refund them.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. What exactly—”

  “Those gówno models don’t listen to my commands. They can’t even do something as simple as put seedlings into the dirt. This is absolutely unacceptable! I want a refund!”

  “This sounds like a very serious problem indeed, Miss Zavadilová.”

  “It is! Your company promised me that I would be able to get far more done with robots than with hired labor, and yet these models just lock up! Like I said, I want a refund! If you can’t give me that, then I insist that I speak to your manager so he can fire you and get me that refund!”

  “I understand, Miss Zavadilová. I’m forwarding your request to my immediate superior right now. However, the protocols for returns and refunds dictate that I first run a basic troubleshooting examination on the products in question.”

  “Useless hunks of śmieci! Now I’ve got to recall all those workers I just fired. Really, you people at Reubens-Immentrop are absolutely useless when it comes to this!”

  “I offer my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience, Miss Zavadilová, but I really need to run those tests before—”

  “What’s worse is that I’m running at a loss here! One whole week of lost work, where I could be working with seedlings instead of looking at plain old dirt! Absolutely unacceptable! I want a refund, or else I’m going to get in touch with my friend the governor and make sure that you people never sell so much as a chunk of steel in San Seranza ever again!”

  “Again, my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience, Miss Zavadilová. I will do everything I can to assist you. If you would please verbally authorize me to run a handshake query between me and the six Type-Five Laborer androids you’ve received, I would be able to help you get that refund sooner than—”

  “AND ANOTHER THING! That person who sold me the robots, that crook promised me that the bots I ordered would be able to accomplish the work of five men by working all throughout the day! Well, it’s been six whole days since I’ve received your robots and they have done NIC for my business!”

  “Ah, there we go. I think I should be able to help you out now, Miss Zavadilová.”

  “What? What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’re not going to give me my refund! I told you that I’ve got friends in high places! They’re going to make sure that—”

  “The Laborer androids you purchased have just automatically connected to the Immentrop-Reubens servers. My AI assistant is reviewing the information it received right now from the auto-updates.”

  “WHAT!? How DARE you go ahead and do something like this! I never gave you permission to go snooping around the brains of the robots I bought! This is beca
use I’m Jewish, isn’t it? You’ve got something against Jews! You and your company must be one of those neo-Nazis looking to blame everything on my people!”

  “Miss Zavadilová, I can assure you that I did not act against your interests nor did I do anything based on your beliefs. All Immentrop-Reubens products automatically connect to our servers to receive patches and security updates. They also automatically submit a log of all errors experienced to make it easier for our technicians to fix the problem. All this is in the end-user license agreement that clients automatically agree to when they purchase an Immentrop-Reubens product.”

  “This is insane! I never agreed to something like that! I want to speak to your manager, NOW!!!”

  “I’m reviewing the logs received from your Laborer androids right now and… hmm. They say that they automatically locked up after someone tried to modify their identification tags. Error 567-802-333-b… that’s an attempt to install unauthorized software that would rewrite their serial numbers. Security just released a firmware update correcting the vulnerability, and the Laborers you bought should have that update installed when you bought them. Miss Zavadilová, could you kindly re-confirm the serial numbers of the Laborers? You should find the printed numbers under a panel behind the neck, just below the head.”

  …

  …

  …

  “Hello? Miss Zavadilová? Are you still there?”

  ***

  “—and this is my sixth grandson, Sutanto. He hates being called that though, and prefers that we call him Stewie. He’s afraid that all the other children will pick on him for not being American enough, but what’s to be ashamed of? My cute little Sutanto comes from a long and respectable line of leaders, and no half-baked upstart rebel group will ever change his heritage. Oh, and this is my fourth granddaughter, Julia. Her parents, Orpah and Bernice, have been in your country for longer than my Yaputra. He’s the father of Sutanto, by the way, and stayed by my side the whole time during the coup. Such a loyal and loving son, that Sutanto. If only my Orpah would learn from his example, but she’s such a strong-willed girl who does what she says she’ll do. I wanted her to be a doctor, you know, but she wanted to go off and make it on her own—without the family influence she says. And now look at her, a strong, independent woman in this country of yours. So strong and independent, running her law firm that she won’t even visit me while I’m on my deathbed.”

  “Oh no, Miss Sudirman. You can’t be on your deathbed just yet. You’ve still got so many years left in you.”

  “That is very kind of you, sweetheart. You know, you remind me of my son, Wangsadinata. Very polite, very soft-spoken… but he’s the child who sees all, hears all. He’s not like most middle-children that act out because they want attention. No, I made sure to give attention to all my children—equally and without favorites. If only they would learn those lessons at heart. I’m afraid that my Siska dotes too much on her youngest, leaving her eldest neglected. Have you seen Harco and Faith? Two little angels, they are.”

  “Ah, forgive me for interrupting, Miss Sudirman, but I’ve just finished reviewing the log of your Helper droid.”

  “Oh, yes. How’s my little helper? I named her Cantik, you know—bahasa for pretty. She’s so cute and adorable, you know. I dress her up every chance I get, show her off to my friends. They are so jealous, and they’re pestering their children to get them a Cantik of their own. They don’t have a helper yet, but they’re already shopping around for outfits. I’m pretty sure I’ll have referred enough buyers to have a pillar of your company’s headquarters named in my honor!”

  “I’ll make sure to pass that request on to my boss, Miss Sudirman. Now let’s see. The troubleshooting software says thaaaat… ah, it’s a faulty leg servo.”

  “Faulty leg servo? Oh no, that sounds serious! Will Cantik be all right? Your people can fix her up, yes? She’s been such a big help around the house, cleaning up after me. She even knows how to make bakwan sayur the way I tell her to. I fry them better, of course, but she still manages to strike the perfect balance between crispy and chewy.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss Sudirman. I’ve already passed on a message to our field technicians. Immentrop-Reubens will send a maintenance drone at your convenience. What time will you be available to let the drone in? Ah, a word of warning, Miss Sudirman: the drone can look a little bit scary when it starts working. I’m just giving you a heads-up so you don’t get surprised when the drone unfolds and all its nasty limbs and appendages pop out.”

  “Oh, thank you very much, sweetheart. Ah, right. You remind me of one of my sons, Wangsadinata. Such a polite, well-behaved boy. I think you would be friends if you ever get the chance to meet one another…”

  ***

  “…goddamn, fucking useless piece of shit. What’s taking so long? You’ve got a fucking AI with you, right? Then you should have that fucking information ready on hand instead of making me piss off my morning. Fucking IR and your shit-ass ‘true-to-life’ marketing fuckery. Just put on the goddamn AI already, you obsolete bag of guts, so I can log off and get more shit done.”

  “My apologies, Mister Weinreb, but the information you are requesting is a little bit higher on the confidentiality scale than I am allowed to freely hand out. I am liaising right now with representatives from the military department of Immentrop-Reubens, and they should be able to—”

  “Then why the fuck am I sitting here diddling myself with some airhead instead of talking to the dick responsible for military contracts?”

  Glenn sighed internally, not daring to visualize or vocalize that sigh. Finishing up with one of those clients was one of the worst ways to end the workday, even if he was only going to work a half-shift.

  That’s when he felt the familiar tickling in his mind, a soft whisper of… something nudging him in a certain direction. Traces of whispers started bleeding through his mind—whispers that manifested through the chat log of his alt-world heads-up display.

  Eckard Weinreb

  Agonized. Frustrated. Fatigued.

  Resigned. Despairing. Determined.

  Bitter. Regretful. Powerless.

  Glenn suppressed a sad smile with his avatar as he studied Mister Weinreb, the man projecting naked aggression to hide his own vulnerabilities and shortcomings.

  Ynnistoria: So much self-pity and pent-up frustration in that man, Glen. He would no doubt deliver at least a few thousand life points once you’re done with him... if you still had the ability to Ravage him, that is.

  Um… sorry, Ynnistoria, but I don’t swing that way.

  Ynnistoria: That is unfortunate, Glenn. A proper Lust Demon would be able to shapeshift between Incubus and Succubus forms, developing the proper organs to exploit the gender of their victims.

  Lust Demons… you mentioned them before, but—

  (Forget what you’re told to forget. That’s a good boy.)

  Yeah, never mind. Please bring up my stat sheet again, Ynnistoria. Focus on the new skill, please.

  His strange digital assistant did as he commanded, opening up a small window displaying his newly-acquired skill:

  Hunt has morphed into Empathy!

  Passive Skill—focus on a humanoid target to telepathically receive snippets of its emotional state. Also allows you to identify high-value victims that grant bonus Life Points when drained via Indulge (requires Human or Incubus form)

  Thanks, Ynnistoria. Ever since when did this happen again?

  Ynnistoria: Just this morning, Glenn, when you handled your first client. These changes appear to be caused by your ♌♏◼♏♐♋♍⧫