A large scar cut across his right eye, lost in his twenty-eighth year. In its place was a shining lens suspended in golden mechanics. The procedure he underwent was called ‘ocular substitution,’ a complicated affair to replace his lost eye with a mechanical one. It was experimental at the time but ultimately so successful that Frost purchased the medical process patents and technology rights for his own use.
There were five men gathered in front of Frost’s desk, all dressed in gallant suits and hats. None replied to Frost’s question.
“I’m waiting…” Frost said to them, carrying a smirk. The mechanical eye whirred and zipped around, pinpricks of blue light flickering with each movement. Frost settled on the thin-faced man standing in the middle. “Mr. Abbot, please do not make me ask again.”
Tate Abbot was middle-aged and oversaw the company’s contracts with outside organizations. The post had been recently vacated by his predecessor, disappearing quite suddenly. No one dared question what happened to him, Tate motivated enough to try and keep his position.
“W-which contractor are you asking about?” he replied; his lower lip was quivering. Frost’s gaze seemed to bore through him.
“The copper providers.” Frost’s words came out quite matter-of-factly. “You do remember, don’t you; the material that wires my entire line of bots?”
Tate’s eyes shifted from side to side; there was worry in them. The other men noticed.
“Ah… yes,” he struggled to answer. “Burton and Hargrove. There were some… incidents at their main facility in Alum City and warehouses here in Diablo. Protests mainly, over conditions and wages.”
“Really now?”
Tate nodded once.
“A-apparently Winthrope… had raised –”
Frost silenced him with a hand wave. It was unclear if he was more incensed by the news or the mention of Winthrope.
“Why must you always go against the tide, Jesse?” Lucas muttered to himself, taking in a long, irritated breath. He then addressed Tate pithily. “I do not wish to hear that name mentioned again today.”
Tate nodded again.
“These people are impossible to deal with!” Frost shouted suddenly, causing all the men to flinch. “If we can even call such pathetic creatures people at all. Do they not appreciate all that I give them?”
“T-they should, Milord,” answered Peter Mullins, who was the youngest and most fawning, his words greased like his jet-black hair. “You bestow great things to all in Diablo.”
Frost didn’t acknowledge the slippery reply and continued.
“I keep them busy by giving them a purpose, otherwise they would be useless. I give them a place of value in the great machine of life, otherwise they would be worthless. And they repay me with protests and indignation?”
Before long Frost had a look of rage across his face.
“Fire them,” he said coolly. “That will solve this little problem of ours and teach a life lesson in one fell swoop.”
They all stirred, minds troubled with Frost’s line of thinking.
“M-milord, we cannot lose a workforce that large,” said Mark Rutherford, a grubby man with features like a rat.
“How many heathens are you are referring to?”
“Nearly eight hundred, sir.”
Frost chortled, pointing back toward the window.
“There are nearly ten million people in this city, a lot of them wretched and willing to work for enough Cogs to put bread and butter on their tables. No, my decision stands. Fire all the workers in that troublesome borough, then hire replacements, reminding them of their blessings.”
The men stood listening, Peter the only one bobbing his head. It annoyed the others.
“Also,” Frost continued, “send word to our facility in Alum City: something similar must be done there, right up to the top if need be. All of this is not rocket science, for goodness sake. Really, Rutherford, perhaps I should reconsider having you in charge of design, since such a simple concept apparently eludes you?”
Mark blustered, nearly letting Frost know what was truly on his mind. That would have been a mistake. He recoiled upon seeing Frost’s stare, and the affluence behind it, bearing down on him.
“I thought as much,” Frost said smugly. “So, is there anything else before I depart? I feel as if the task at hand takes precedence over the other things that we had listed for discussion.”
The largest man of the group stepped forward. His demeanor was like Frost’s in most regards. He was stout and looked as though he could hold his own. Alex Caldwell was his name; rugged and strong-featured, he oversaw bot production in both of Frost’s plants.
“With all due respect, Milord,” Alex said pointedly, “even if we were to fill all these vacated spots with replacement workers by tomorrow, Rutherford does have a point. There are steps like training and other intangible issues to address. That would be the case with the start of one worker and we are discussing eight hundred. It might as well be a thousand for the time production will be set back. I worry that with our latest mandate to phase out the men in our remote security forces along the Far Cost pipeline in lieu of automated sentries, we will need to have at least one hundred units done by the end of the week to meet schedule.”
Frost respected Alex’s words enough to not be angered by them.
“Then it sounds like you all have quite a challenge to ensure that particular hundred-unit threshold is met.”
Four of the five men were taken aback, Peter still beaming relentlessly.
“M-milord?” asked Alex, thinking he had misunderstood something that was said.
“That is all for now,” Frost said dismissively, waving a hand through the air. “I shall speak with you all again tomorrow at ten, hopefully with good news.”
The group started to turn, murmuring like a simmering pot. Phrases like ‘see I told you’ and ‘he’s absolutely mad’ rose above the whispers. The distinctive voice was uttered by Hugh Winterberry, a diminutive man with more nerve than height. He had, up until that point, been silent.
Alex cut his eyes across Hugh then toward Frost, noting Peter’s was lingering. Seizing the young man’s arm, Alex drug him along toward a pair of rich mahogany doors. Tate was first to reach the exit, placing his hands on the ornamental handles. Hugh leaned over as he opened them, speaking his mind beneath the sound of those heavy doors creaking.
“We all know which product line of bots he really wants to remain on schedule,” Hugh grumbled louder than he thought. “Or shall I say boys, like that one he parades around that resembles his ex-lover?”
Tate gulped, knowing that Frost must have heard him; they all did. Letting go of the doors, he hurriedly stepped through.
“Now is not the time for this, Winterberry,” Alex warned as he crossed the threshold with Peter in tow. “Enough! Before you say too much and go too far. We all have much work to –”
“Any man,” Hugh carried on stubbornly as Mark slinked past, “that is so perverse as to partake in the company of robots for pleasure is no respectable gentleman. One that would prefer the male variety of such deviant devices only invites the downfall of our great society.”
Alex shut his eyes, refusing to turn around; Hugh had overstepped his bounds. Instead he walked down the bleak corridor, past oil paintings of Lucas Frost the First, Second, and their respective wives. He was joined by the other three men as they swept from the office.
“Did you say something important?” Frost asked, grasping Winterberry’s shoulder right before he took a step out of the office.
It hurt.
“Frost! How dare you! In all my years, I…”
Frost immediately spun the short man around more than once, stopping him cold. Regardless of being dizzy, Winterberry could still see Frost’s blood-chilling stare burrowing into him. The faint blue light of that machine-driven eye had shifted to red.
“Your back was to me as you spoke; it muffles the sound as you know. So, forgive me, I only picked up bit
s and pieces. Can you clarify what it was that you said?”
Hugh cringed, breathing heavily as he felt Frost’s unnatural grip tighten. There came a sound like metal sliding against a sheath, a dagger emerging from under the long sleeves of Frost’s coat.
“Now, as I mentioned, I could very well be mistaken but it sounded an awful lot like something about the Adonis line…” Frost was methodical with his words, the point of the dagger kissing Winterberry’s neck. “Those words, too; they sounded so familiar to me. ‘Where on Eaugen have you heard that before?’ I thought. You know what I came to conclude? I might have read them in one of the Daily Diablo’s articles.”
Hugh was speechless, contorting as Frost tightened his grip even more while the dagger blade threatened to pierce his skin.
“Surely that isn’t the case? After all, the Adonis line is one of many products that keep you employed. Thus, your wife is happy. You can buy plenty of food to feed those growing children of yours and plenty of toys to keep their mushy minds entertained. All children should be able to grow up big and strong… and mouthy… like their father, right?”
Hugh said nothing, instead holding his clean-shaven chin high. The secondary one that often fluttered beneath nearly vanished since his head was pushed so far back.
“I thought as much,” Frost said, retracting the dagger and leaning in so close there was barely a gap between them. Frost’s beard hair was even rubbing against the edge of Winterberry’s chin. “Men like you are weak, Hugh, made large only by hiding in the shadows behind closed doors, petrified to say what you really think in the light to one’s face, where truth can shine on your words. The world would be better off had I taken my dagger, bored a tiny hole through that thick skull, and watched your cowardly brains seep out onto the floor. But that would cause too much hullabaloo for me, so I’ll give you a chance. I’m close now, I think you’re clever enough to tell at this distance. So, do you have the guts to say anything to my face?”
Nothing came, only silence.
“Very well,” Frost said with a disheartened turn. “Hugh Winterberry, I would have seen the years of funding this fine company took off your pension returned to you, if only you had the fortitude to tell me what was on your mind.”
Hugh squirmed in Frost’s tight grip, unable to get loose. He groaned, but still said no words.
“But that has fled. As it stands, you are hereby stripped of your entire pension, the monies therein shall be redirected to further improve the line of Vixen and Adonis bots.”
Frost released him, pushing Winterberry out of the office with such force that he stumbled, then fell. His arms and legs were splayed on the hard tiles.
“Now get out of my sight,” Frost growled. “Real men have work to do.”
IT WAS TWENTY-PAST noon and the lift doors to Frost’s private residence slid open. He emerged, a limp fairly evident as his boots clobbered across the fancy living room. The floor was a dark and glossy hardwood while the tall ceilings were exposed rafters. Light spilled in from expansive stained glass windows spanning the wall opposite the entrance. Lumographs and vases of flowers decorated the tops of pointy oak tables and lined the majestic stone mantle of the fireplace. Many of the pictures were of Lucas’ family but one stood out on the mantle next to a large bouquet of roses. It featured a dashing man, likely in his early twenties, dressed in traveling attire. Next to him was a younger Lucas with an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Both were laughing despite what appeared to be a rainy day.
Taking a seat in one of the luxuriant buttoned sofas, Frost dipped his head into his hands. He did not feel like entertaining both the mayor and Winthrope at Grand Hall today. Had the pending discussion included the arrest of Jesse and the takeover his assets, or even the demolition of Winthrope Limited, he would have made sure to arrive three hours early.
“Master, is that you?” asked an almost giddy voice from another room. “I did not expect you back so soon, otherwise I would have prepared a meal.”
“No need, Aero,” Lucas answered, lifting his head from his hands. “I’ve already eaten.”
“all right then. I was under the impression you had an appointment with Mayor Randolph at Grand Hall,” Aero replied. “Is that no longer the case?”
“What’s with the interrogation?” Lucas snapped. “I’ll be heading out shortly.”
“Apologies, but if that is the case, you will need to leave within the next two minutes and thirty-seven seconds or else be late…”
“I know,” Frost grumbled, craning his neck as he leaned back on the sofa. He couldn’t see anyone. “I’m in no rush. Now, enough talking. Get out here so we don’t have to shout like commoners.”
“Very well,” Aero replied happily.
There was a sound of something heavy being moved, then set down, followed by light footsteps. A man soon appeared and joined Lucas in the living room. He looked young and innocent, skin smooth and hair dark, both gleaming in the sunlight. He stared at Lucas through sapphire eyes while a gentle smattering of stubble covered his jaw. It was the same athletic man in the picture on the mantle, but he hadn’t aged a day.
Lucas’ eyes widened with desire as he took the man in, and he bit his lower lip after reaching out toward him.
Aero was completely naked and it was evident that he was not a normal person. His warm and silky body – which Frost was now touching – was perfect from head to foot, marred only by the words ‘Adonis V3’ embossed on his hip and ‘A3R0’ along his right collar. Dark, mechanical channels flowed around his body, separating it into modular components that pristinely outlined his musculature. His chest was broad but notably without nipples, and his torso rippled like foothills of the mountains. Light puffs of steam escaped his joints as he moved. Aero happened to be the most advanced and lifelike bot Lucas had created and though he strove to perfect his mass-produced creations, there would forever be only one Aero.
“Get down here and tend to my leg,” Frost ordered sternly, yanking down on Aero’s arm. Aero did not resist. “Right ankle’s been acting up today. Needs a massage before I head to the hangar for this damn meeting...”
Frost Enterprises’ emphasis was in the areas of security and weapons; things that went boom and other things to protect against the booms. To diversify their offerings, the company also opened a factory to build automated robots for dignitaries or remote operations in harsh environments like pipelines outside the city walls.
Aero’s knees were against the floor, his sturdy hands gripping Lucas’ aggrieved leg. Lucas sighed as a welcomed vibration coursed through it, coupled with a firm, undulating pressure from Aero’s massage. It felt extremely good and quite relaxing for his entire body, except for one part that became restless. He stretched his arms behind his head and moaned. A bulge was growing in the confines of his trousers…
People found new and innovative roles for bots along the way, using them to aid in farming duties, shop keeping, interrogations, and even sex. That’s where Frost saw an opportunity for even more income, uncaring of the stigma it would bring. After all, even if no elite or official admitted to it, sex and money drove the world. Frost opened a second factory that focused on delivery of female sex robots, which was dubbed the Vixen line of companions. They were marketed as a reward for the hardworking and single gentleman. Rudimentary at first, the units sold incredibly well. Their taboo nature also drove sales, the third generation of Vixens now available for only one thousand Gears. However, for Frost, something was missing.
“Seems like another leg needs tending to,” Lucas groaned, his bulge throbbing. Aero moved a hand atop the mound, sending tremors through it as he massaged the new area…
It was obvious to a lot of people that Frost was not much of a lady’s man, especially in his youth when he grew close to an investor’s son, Aaron Williams. Lucas and Aaron’s relationship blossomed, even kept in the shadows, but never managed to reach fruition. Unfortunately, Aaron lost his life in the same incident that caused Lucas to lose an eye.
Years went by but the feelings never passed. In the hope of rekindling those deep-rooted feelings, the Adonis line was born. More a pet project than an attempt at profit, the Adonis models surprisingly sold well. That isn’t to say their sales were not far more low key than their female counterparts; ownership of male robots by the men and women that came to purchase would be quite scandalous at best. Frost didn’t care, often being seen with his companion around the headquarters building and even at times in town. Everyone’s fear of his reprisal kept lips firmly sealed.
Aero had unbuttoned Lucas’ trousers, freeing him. He opened his wet lips and wrapped them around Lucas, slowly sucking while taking him in effortlessly until all was inside. His throat began to squeeze and relax, sending waves of pressure up and down Lucas’ entire length.
Lucas looked down at Aaron’s likeness, pleasing him in ways he could only imagine before. He shifted, sitting up slightly. Lucas slid a hand down and over Aero’s back, one of his thick fingers plunging into a tight, warm hole that awaited at the end. He slid another inside, knowing that at his fingertips was the one-of-a-kind Adonis Version Three, Revision Zero.
Aero started growing himself, his toolset absurdly proportioned for Lucas’ own pleasure.
“A-Aero…” Lucas said gruffly, followed by indecipherable moans.
Aero’s throat squeezed harder.
Lucas took hold of Aero’s hair with his free hand, shoving the bot’s head down. His own body started to shudder; Aero slowed.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Frost growled. “Keep going.”
Aero resumed, now relentless.
Lucas closed his eyes, about to crest a point of no return. Sinking his back into the sofa on a cloud of bliss, Lucas would now certainly be late for his meeting and he couldn’t care less.
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