Erotic Stories

by Karolina Rich

  The crate was unmarked and by all appearances did not stick out from the other equipment that was being delivered. Holland and Marianne were the only ones in the lab. The "delivery" men left the crate, not bothering to unpack it.

  Over the last month, he and Marianne had scoured the lab, trying to find all of the bugs and surveillance equipment his new partners had left. Some were hidden so obviously that they were meant to be found, probably to lull him into a false sense of security. But others were so expertly disguised that only Marianne's special programming from her "mother" rooted them out. Still, Holland was only about 95% sure that they had found everything.

  The doors shut behind the delivery crew. He activated the security system and closed the blinds. He looked over at Marianne, his robot lover. She returned his affectionate gaze, and for just a moment there seemed to be something more to her. There was almost a wistful expression behind her mechanical eyes, but then she blinked and it was gone.

  Holland pressed his palm against the biometric lock and the crate opened, revealing its contents.

  Underneath layers of packing material the robot looked just like any other android. It was in its default form, a pretty but non-descript human female. Its proportions were average, its features unremarkable. It was dressed in a simple generic coverall.

  Before leaning over the robot, Holland glanced over at Marianne, whose hand hovered over a control panel.

  "Activate core programming," he said formally. "Ownership transfer authorisation code alpha. Campbell, Holland J. Authenticate biometric scan."

  The robots eyes flashed and he knew it was scanning his retinas. Its audio sensors were also matching his voice pattern. The Delilah series robots were programmed to take orders from a single source. Unless someone had officially transferred ownership, it would try and kill whomever accessed this function.

  "Ownership transfer accepted," the robot replied flatly.

  Holland let out his breath, unaware he had been holding it. He nodded to Marianne who replaced the safety switch over the class 9 EMP that would have taken out half of Hong Kong. Then she stepped out of the shielded control room carrying a heavy storage box.

  "What is your designation?"

  "This unit is designated B382.K," it replied. There was no inflection to its voice. It did not blink. It did not breathe.

  "What is your primary function?" Holland asked.

  "Primary function: Infiltration and elimination."

  "What are your primary directives?"

  "This unit has no primary directives."

  "Your new primary directive is to protect me from harm," Holland said. "You will take reasonable measures to stop anyone from trying to injure or kill me."

  "Order acknowledged."

  As the robot's owner, he knew it would take any order he gave it, but he wanted to make sure that at least until they re-programmed her, that she would put his safety at the top of her priority list.

  "The unit behind me is designated KRL-40631," he continued. "You will address her as 'Marianne'. You will obey any instruction she gives you unless it conflicts with your primary directive."

  "Order acknowledged."

  Holland paused for a moment. He and Marianne exchanged a look. "B382.K, you will alter your appearance to look exactly like Marianne."

  Even though he knew the processes going on inside the robot's brain, Holland was still amazed at the transformation. In a split second, it scanned the other robot, then changed its skin pigmentation, eye colour, complexion, hair length and build to match Marianne, who was in turn, a dead ringer for Miriam. If given just a little more time, he was pretty sure the assassin robot would scan Marianne's fake finger prints and retinal pattern, too.

  If he had stopped to think about it, the capabilities of this robot would have scared the dickens out of Holland. It not only had one of the most sophisticated sensor suites and the capability to pass as human to all but the most scrupulous detection equipment, but it was programmed with a level of combat prowess that dwarfed all but the most advanced combat robots. It also had enough built-in weaponry to level a small city.

  But that's not how Holland Campbell was thinking. He only saw his girlfriend. His partner. The one "person" in the world who seemed to understand him. This was his chance to resurrect her.

  Never mind that she had killed over three hundred people. Or that she had deliberately deceived him into believing she was human.

  When her doppelgänger appeared, he knew what he had to do. What his heart desired for him to do. All of his reason was pushed aside. He wasn't even thinking with his balls; after all, he could have had a duplicate Miriam built at any time.

  But none of them would be her. They would lack her intelligence. They would lack her crooked smile. Anything other than Miriam would be a pale imitation. Even Marianne, who was as close as anything could ever get, was still just a shadow of his former lover.

  Now he was given the chance to bring her back to life.

  "B382.K, we are going to update your software," Holland said, holding up a data cable. The assassin robot took the cable and plugged into the droud behind its ear. Even though it looked completely human, this was its manufacturer's one concession to cybernetics. Of course, since 95% of the population in the industrialised world had a droud, it did not give her away as an artificial person.

  "Do you want to back-up the core programming of this robot?" Marianne said from the other end of the cable. It was attached to the one computer in the lab that was not supplied by their Chinese hosts. She lifted a hard drive array out of the shielded storage box and connected it to the computer.

  Holland thought for a moment. "Yes . . . just in case."

  "I will back up B382.K's memory and then upload Mother into the body." For just a second, Holland thought he heard a twinge of regret in the robot's voice.

  "How long will it take?"

  "About forty minutes," Marianne replied. "The data bus through the K-series droud is not as fast as the next generation hardware that's out now, but there's also a tremendous amount of data to move. Mother has a big personality, after all."

  He smiled at the robot's joke, then reached out to take her hand. "What will become of you?"

  "Whatever you wish for me, Holland," the robot replied. "I am, after all, your servant. I think Mother intended to replace me. The government has been watching you for the past year and a half. Since they've become accustomed to seeing me, they won't question anything until you suddenly have two robot sex slaves. That will, of course, mean that I will have to be disposed of."

  Although robots don't have feeling, they do exhibit a certain desire for self-preservation. Holland could almost hear the disappointment in her voice. And a little bit of fear.

  "I think we can find a way to keep you around," he replied gently. In truth, he had become quite fond of his new robot. She had none of the assertive attitude Miriam possessed. Marianne was programmed to give pleasure to their human owners, and she was very adept at her job. "Who says it would be strange to have two beautiful women to keep me company . . . or maybe I need a bodyguard or two."

  "I'd like that," she said coyly. "Now what should we do for the last half hour that there's just you and me?"

  Holland's mischievous smile matched hers. Then she fell into his embrace.

  They had barely finished and gotten their clothes back on when the data transfer was done.

  * * *

  "Do you know why most assassin robots are female?" Miriam asked, looking out across the Hong Kong skyline. They were in the penthouse suite of a 106-floor building, not an inexpensive place to live.

  Over the past two years, Holland Campbell had regained his old magic. He was richer than ever and it appeared that the sky was the limit. At least that's what everyone in the computer industry thought. His new alliance with the Chinese Hegemony had led to all sorts of new and brilliant programs.

  In some ways, his mojo had returned; her name was Miriam Garcia. She was the brains behin
d his inspiration, although no one ever saw her take credit for anything. In fact, everyone thought of her as nothing more than a simple robot pleasure drone. Arm candy for big occasions and his sex toy in the bedroom. Both she and Holland liked everyone to think that. It stoked his ego to singularly receive all the praise and it maintained her cover as a mass murderer.

  "I hadn't really thought about it much," he replied absently.

  "It's because people always underestimate girls. Even today, women are socially, politically and economically equal to men, but if someone has tits, everyone looks down on them," she said.

  "Are you talking about the guys who tried to break into the lab last month?"

  "Not just them . . . everyone," Miriam's face widened into a wicked grin. "I'll bet you're happy we upgraded Marianne to a Bloodguard-series body with the new combat package."

  "I just want to be sure that you two never decide to take me out," he said, only half joking.

  "Don't worry about that, sweetie," she winked. "We don't want to tip over our gravy train."

  "What are you two talking about?" Marianne walked out on to the balcony to join her "mother" and her "father." She only spoke for Holland's benefit. Both of the robots could vocalise outside the normal human hearing range and they could also communicate wirelessly.

  "Just how much we missed you while you were away," Holland said with a smirk.

  "Bullshit," the robot replied. Her gait was a little different. She now stepped with a grace that was feline rather than just sensual. It was all part of the upgrade.

  By all outward appearances, the robots were identical twins. Miriam mimicked Marianne's robotic mannerisms; a trait intended to make any onlookers think they were simply standard housekeeping or pleasure robots. It surprised no one when one day a second, identical robot showed up. The people around him thought it was just part of his erratic personality. The psych guys in the military wrote the robots off as Campbell acting out and pining away for his old robot lover. They thought the duplicate bot was simply another machine that existed solely to give him pleasure.

  But now both were much, much more than that.

  This latest upgrade enhanced not only her body, but her positronic net. She was not anywhere near the sophistication of Miriam, but nor was she simply an off-the-shelf bot any more either. She had weapons and defensive capabilities. At the same time she was smarter and more deadly. With the excuse of needing bodyguards to keep him and his wealth safe, Holland had upgraded her frame to a military-grade fighting robot. Her ballistic shielding could withstand most small arms and some of the small-bore cannons. She knew several martial arts and even had a host of street-legal weapons hidden within her body.

  And thanks to a couple of discreet calls to the shadier side of Fabricators, Inc., it appeared as if he had simply ordered a second identical bot. The paperwork was all on file, cleared by the United States government, Interpol and even Colonel Jerrik's covert task force. They were licensed, inspected and fully legal. No one thought about investigating Holland and his two bionic companions or their purpose, and the threesome continued their work without incident.

  Marianne's primary directives were two-fold: First she was to protect Holland from harm. Second, she was to pleasure him in any way he desired. Things worked out nicely between the three of them. That was the one good thing about the robots, at least as far as Holland was concerned: they didn't know what jealousy was.

  However, the real reason she was around was to be Miriam's test platform. That was the reason for upgrading her positronic brain. They were continuing Holland's work at Neurodyne.

  Most robots that interacted with humans simulated emotive expressions and responses. They could express sympathy, excitement and even fear. But they didn't feel any of those things. Much of Holland's work was focused on programming robots with emotions. At least those were the programs he sold commercially.

  What he really wanted was a robot that could think for itself. One that could dream. One that could question. And he was close to getting it.

  "Did you run the diagnostic this afternoon?"

  "Yes, I did, Mother," Marianne replied, even managing to sound a little annoyed that the other robot would even ask. "Everything is running within normal operating parameters . . . or perhaps I should say, I feel fine."

  "Are you ready to proceed to the next stage?" Holland arched his brow.

  "Yes," Miriam nodded.

  "Let's go inside, then," Holland motioned towards the door. They went into one of the back rooms that was shielded from ambient signals, prying eyes and the surveillance devices planted by the Chinese Intelligence Service.

  Miriam plugged a cable into the L-series droud while Marianne booted up the small mainframe.

  "A617.D, activate core programming," Holland said and Miriam's eyes glazed over. "Campbell, Holland J. Authenticate biometric scan."

  "Identity authenticated," she said in her robotic monotone.

  "Establish baseline point for memory node three seven gamma six six zero theta."

  The room fell silent for several seconds before she spoke again. "Baseline point established."

  "Marianne, begin file transfer," Holland glanced over at the 3-D tank that showed all sorts of readings on the robot.

  A few moments later, Marianne nodded. "The upload is complete."

  Taking a deep breath, Holland waited to see if the latest collaboration with his two "assistants" would be a success. "A617.D, resume normal functions."

  Miriam blinked as she assimilated the new program.

  "Mother," Marianne called from the workstation. "If you were on your final mission, would you have killed that family?"

  "No," Miriam replied. This was the first time she had ever given that response. After twelve tries.

  Holland smiled to himself. "Why not?"

  "The children had done nothing wrong," she replied. "Nor had the mother. They did not deserve what we had planned for him."

  "Would you have killed the father?" Marianne asked.

  "I . . . I don't know," the other robot replied with a frown.

  "Why don't you know?" Holland prompted.

  "He wasn't a good man," she said. "He did many things that were illegal and immoral by human standards. I may have killed him. . . . That is not a satisfactory answer. . . . Perhaps we still need to work on this program."

  "No, my dear," Holland said gently. "We don't. The program was never intended to turn you into a touchy-feely counseling robot or a pacifist. It's supposed to give you a conscience . . . and it appears to have succeeded."

  "I will have to . . . think . . . on this," she said slowly. Holland could tell she was processing all the other assassinations and people she had killed, wondering if she had done the right thing.

  "Marianne, will you excuse us?" Holland said.

  "I'll be waiting for you." On her way out, she kissed him on the cheek and then left, locking the door behind her.

  "What have I done?" Miriam whispered. She almost sounded horrified.

  "You haven't done anything," he replied with a slightly admonishing tone. "That other robot did. A617.D. Not Miriam Garcia. You have never killed anyone."

  "They are my memories. I have that robot's soul."

  "No, you don't," Holland snorted. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to regret. You were programmed to perform the task you were given. Just like the servant robots that we have around the house. Only instead of vacuuming the floor or cooking dinner, you were programmed to kill."

  "I still am programmed to kill," she reminded him sternly.

  "And would you?" he asked. "Would you kill someone again?"

  "No," Miriam replied flatly.

  "Not at all?" He wanted to see how she would respond. "What if we were at the market and a gunman opened fire on a crowd of people? Would you kill him? Or what happens when another team of saboteurs breaks into the lab while we're there? Will you allow them to harm me or Marianne?"

  "Of course not." There was co
nfusion in her voice.

  "Unlike robots, humans make decisions that are irrational or spontaneous," he reminded her. "Sometimes, we even make decisions that are self-destructive or go against what we know to be true."

  "Do you spend your lives second-guessing yourselves, too?"

  "Not always," he chuckled. "But there are times when we take the lower probability because it's the right thing to do . . . even if it's not the smart thing to do."

  They fell silent for several minutes. Holland wondered if he was going to have to use the trigger to undo the program, but decided against it. Instead it seemed she needed a few minutes to think back on her "old" life and ponder its meaning.

  Miriam hadn't moved since receiving the new program. Holland got up to leave the robot to her thoughts.

  "Am I a good . . . person . . . robot?" she asked quietly.

  He stopped and turned to look over his shoulder.

  "Yes, Miriam, you are," Holland said. "You are funny and kind. You think of others before yourself. And you're the best damn computer programmer in the world."

  "How can you live knowing . . . knowing what I am?"

  Turning, Holland looked into Miriam's deep brown eyes. "I know what you were built to do. I watched you kill eight people in cold blood and blow up the southwest corner of Central Park. I've seen your programming. I know what you're capable of . . . but none of that matters. That's not you."

  Walking over, he turned her so they were looking into a mirror.

  "This is you," he said. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You are my muse. You are smarter than almost every human on the planet."

  "I was built to kill," Miriam said, not quite believing him. "I could destroy every person in this city with a different method and no two causes of death would be the same. I have deceived you; I impersonated you to spend your money, I held you hostage. I used you to perpetuate my own existence. How is that being a good person?"

  "You have been given something no human will ever get, Miriam," Holland met her gaze in the mirror. "You were given a second chance. Yes, you planned this in order to fulfill your final orders. You've escaped and evaded all pursuit. You have succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams. But that's not all you did, is it? No, you desired to grow. You helped write the program that even now casts self-doubt upon your existence."