by Rhett Bruno
I lifted my hand to touch her, then stopped. “May I?” I asked. I usually wasn’t so polite, but I didn’t usually run into lifelike robots either.
Lucas bowed his head. “By all means.”
I ran my fingers across her cheek, which was as soft as any woman’s I’d ever been with. Then her arm. I didn’t notice while she was sitting, but it was remarkably toned. I’d felt simulated skin stretched over artificial limbs plenty of times and this wasn’t it. The muscle felt genuine—tense yet supple. It even glistened from a thin layer of sweat.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“Impressed yet?” Lucas asked.
“It’s a good start,” I replied. “A little cold if you ask me though.” I could tell by the way Lucas was beaming that he knew I wasn’t being wholly honest. Impressed was hardly the word. Disturbed was more appropriate. So much so that I was intrigued.
“Her skin has the same organic composition as your own.”
“Why half-ass play god, right?” I said. “Go big or go home. All or nothing.”
I took a step back and scrutinized her from head to toe until my dirty old mind found itself wondering what she’d looked like with her business suit peeled away and her long, blonde hair let out of its ponytail. It was only in my effort to tear my gaze away that something Lucas said registered. Human subjects for rigorous study. That was where Jimmy must’ve been. Traded to this guy like a lab rat. It seemed improbable back on Mars, but if anyone could erase someone from all registries, it was someone who could create the most realistic robot I’d ever seen.
I forced myself to turn to Lucas. It wasn’t easy, but the way Rebecca continued to stare at me, smiling, made my stomach turn even if other parts of me disagreed.
“So, the newer models and subjects are through there?” I asked, clearing my throat and gesturing to the training area’s door.
“Yes, but the products are in the middle of routine exercises which help them grow accustomed to their new bodies,” Lucas said. “Surely you want to wait for me to prepare something a bit more exciting?”
“Look, Doc. Neither of us wants me here for long, so let’s be quick about this, all right?”
Lucas sighed and begrudgingly swiped his ID card across the door’s reader. It hissed open and a wave of stale air blasted my unprepared nose. Unlike the lobby, it smelled like the patient wing of a hospital.
“This way,” he said.
A full-body, decontamination scanner awaited us, operated by two security guards armed with shock batons, wearing fully-armored suits complete with helmets and tinted visors. A quick glance and I was sure they were a pricey Venta brand equipped with a special Nano-fiber inlay designed to improve muscle performance. Lucas Mannekin clearly spared no expense.
“Does she know?” I asked as we entered the scanner.
“Rebecca?” Lucas replied. “Not in a way you or I could perceive. Whatever she is, is irrelevant to her.”
“An android.”
Lucas smirked. “I prefer the term ‘Synthetic Humanoid’.”
“And I prefer King Graves of Earth. Doesn’t make it true.”
“To understand what we’re doing here, you must expand your notions of replication.” His retort had his brilliant mind so riled up that words began pouring out of his mouth at breakneck speed. “Scientists in my field have always attempted to recreate the things that make us human, whether through genetics or robotics. It’s not possible. I’m not interested in making fully-functional humans with their own sense of individual purpose. The dangers implied by that are too vast. My Synthetic Humanoids, however, are the perfect merging of molecular biology, neurology, and cosmetology, amongst various other sciences. We start by synthesizing organic tissue and organs and molding them over a bone structure—again organically composed. That’s the easy part. Then each one must be provided what we can call a ‘brain’ to be molded. Yours is composed of more than one hundred billion neurons. I’ve pinpointed only those necessary to—”
“All right, all right,” I cut him off. “You piece them together like a damn hovercar and stuff them with a computer.”
His lips twitched as if my interruption had caused an internal error. He shook his head and put on his trademark grin. “A little more complex than that.”
“Might as well be speaking Old Russian with me. I’m a visual learner, doc. You’ll have to show me the process.”
“It’s long and dull,” he said. “Nothing you’d be interested in watching.”
“You’re right, but unfortunately I’m always overly thorough before I choose to work with someone. Call it a curse.”
“Well, I’m sure you’d much rather see some of what they’re capable of first.” The decontamination chamber binged, indicating that we were clean. “After you.”
I went to step out but one of the guards stopped me. He didn’t say anything, but he reached for my holstered pulse-pistol. My baby. She could tear a hole the size of a melon through a plated, steel door.
I grabbed him by the wrist, but before I wrenched it backward Lucas intervened. “Please, Mr. Graves,” he said, sensing my unease. “Some of the products aren’t fully developed. There’s no saying what would happen if they were to get their hands on such an exceptional tool.”
I peered into his pleading eyes. I was always hesitant to hand over my gun, but Lucas Mannekin sure knew how to compliment a Collector. I removed it from its holster, flipped it once for good measure, and handed it over to the guard, grip first. Now was the time for surveillance. I’d make my escape with Jimmy after I knew exactly what I was dealing with. No more rushing in.
“Take care of her,” I grumbled.
“I assure you, it will be waiting here safely until your departure,” Lucas said.
Lucas continued forward. I followed close behind. Every habitable space in the station was built along the outer surface of a massive ring so the floor had a detectable curve to it. The lengthy training space was busy, and as I was warned, messy. Mats lined the wood-trimmed walls on either side, cluttered with all sorts of rudimentary workout equipment. What I assumed to be male and female androids exercised in small groups all around, dressed in nothing but their undergarments. There were others doing who knows what beyond the station’s bend. Every cluster was carefully monitored by a white-coated member of the Mannekin-Tek staff.
When I say the androids were perfect, I’m not exaggerating. Their faces were flawlessly proportioned while also remaining unique. The women made Rebecca look meager and she could’ve modeled for any agency on Earth. They didn’t have an ounce of fat on them, yet still had curves in all the right places. The men looked like I imagine I used to before I discovered my love for whiskey. They were lean and chiseled like the statues from antiquity.
I’d stared down a mob of armed protestors and wasn’t as intimidated as I was standing before these things. I even found myself sucking in my gut as Lucas led me past the nearest group. They marched back and forth while their assigned researcher took notes in his hand-terminal. None of them took any notice of us or said a word. They stared forward with the same vacant eyes as Rebecca.
“Just like infants, they must first learn how to utilize their limbs before they can be tasked,” Lucas said. “My staff spends hours upon hours with each batch to ensure their movements are fluid as possible.”
“Doesn’t seem to be working,” I observed, trying my best to find any fault. Their legs were marginally stiff.
“This group has just initiated that process,” he explained. “This end of the training area contains all of our physically completed specimens who have yet to be programmed.”
I couldn’t help but approach a batch of androids practicing hip mobility. They faced us like they were watching, all with blank stares…all but their human researcher who eyed me with obvious skepticism.
“You!” he spat. The man in white from my run-in with Captain Harris. “I saw you on Mars! He’s the one who tried to break our deal, Lucas.�
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“Relax, Doctor Helu,” Lucas replied.
“He’s a Collector. He pulled a gun on all of us.”
“Circumstances have changed.”
I smirked and stuck out my hand. “No hard feelings. One of Harris’s men was fleecing a Pervenio Casino. Just following orders.”
Dr. Helu grumbled and returned to his android group, leaving my hand floating in mid-air. A permanent scowl appeared to be affixed to his face that he couldn’t wipe away no matter how hard he tried. He guided one of the products who was having difficulty turning. The thing’s stomach rippled with muscle. Perfection.
“Do they eat?” I asked.
“Of course,” Lucas answered, quickly guiding me away from Dr. Helu and deeper into the facility. “They may not care what their food tastes like, but they do require nutrients to stay alive.”
“Stay active,” I corrected.
He frowned. “Yes…active.” He took a long breath. “Like I said, they’re partially organic beings, Mr. Graves. In fact, you have my word that they can safely pass through any scanner in Sol without being scrutinized.”
“Now why would anyone need that?”
“It’s my job not to restrict the potential uses of my product. ‘Creation without boundaries.’”
I recognized the apparent slogan of Mannekin-Tek from a sign above the reception desk. “Did you think of that yourself?”
Lucas sent a gracious nod my way but wasn’t foolish enough to let me bait him. He ushered me through the open doorway into the next training space. “There’s no need for us to kid ourselves any longer. Pervenio has its hands in every bucket known to man and you work for them. I invited you on the pretense that you could only help me by bringing in paying subjects, but, there are many ways in which my product could potentially help a Collector.”
“And yourself,” I remarked. “That really why you wanted me here? All of this must be draining you dry, but if I report exactly what I’ve seen here, some Pervenio funding could turn this little operation into a goldmine.” I couldn’t blame him for trying. Luxarn Pervenio, the richest man in Sol, didn’t take meetings, he made them. Twenty years on the job and I’d never met him once.
“It wouldn’t hurt.”
“At least we’re finally being honest with each other, doc.”
“See for yourself.” He pointed ahead and to our right at an adjoining series of enclosed spaces with wide viewports running along them. Through the polished glass of the first one, I could see dozens of androids seated at desks, watching instructional videos on the English language. In the next, Humanoids were massaging real humans on tables. Apparently, the human subjects weren’t only used for behavioral analysis, but to literally be tested on.
Behind them, a gorgeous female android walked hand in hand with a man. I stopped momentarily, and luckily Lucas didn’t notice the glint in my eye. It wasn’t Jimmy but it was one of the others Harris sent him off with. He looked like a kid going to his first school dance. They disappeared behind a curtain. Sex with a living mannequin. Now that was new.
“Need a clean woman or a man for the brothels on Titan that can’t infect any of those sickly Ringers?” he asked. “Easy. Need an assassin who if caught won’t talk no matter how much they’re tortured? Fine.”
He gestured to a firing range at the end of the space. More of his staff watched as five, tall, muscular androids fired pulse-pistols at holographic targets. Adjacent to them were long mats where others practiced some form of martial-arts I wasn’t familiar with. Some were rigid in their movements, but others, the older ones I presumed, were remarkably smooth.
“Have you ever read anything about training dogs, Mr. Graves?” Lucas asked.
“I try not to read about things that are almost extinct,” I replied. “Keeps me happy.”
“Well, before the meteorite nearly wiped all life off Earth, people used to teach them marvelous things. It’s similar here. Through repetition and cognitive exercises, my Synthetic Humanoids can be trained to perform certain tasks with great aptitude. Though, admittedly, due to the limited ability of a simulated cerebral cortex, pushing them toward more than a few areas of focus would lead to a…mental breakdown of sorts.”
“Maybe I’m missing something but can’t you just program their fake brains, or whatever they have, with all of this knowledge and save the time?”
“Knowledge and practice are very different things. We strive for authenticity.” Lucas stopped in front of an android at the firing range. The researcher monitoring him stepped aside to let me observe.
“This is David,” Lucas said. “I believe you met him once already with Dr. Helu back on Mars.”
I nodded. I knew he seemed familiar. I don’t swing that way, but it’s hard to forget anyone…thing…as handsome as him.
“Fire,” the researcher instructed David.
The android picked a pistol up off a stand and fired six times at a holographic target fifty meters away. Every shot but two struck center mass, and even those only missed by a hair. His hands were unbelievably steady.
“Our best shot so far,” Lucas said. “Care to give it a try, Mr. Graves?”
“Not after a month in space,” I replied. I had no desire to be shown up by a robot…Synthetic Humanoid. “Besides, let’s see him do it with a moving target. Or when civilians are scrambling around frantically in his way.”
Disappointment touched Lucas’s lips. “Perhaps tomorrow you can help me organize a test that would be a better representation of live action then?”
“Tomorrow is a long time away,” I said. “Maybe after we strike a deal.”
I made it a point never to give my talents away for free. Even if I was going to be paid hypothetically, he’d have to make a hell of an offer. I could only imagine what could be done with a pipeline of artificially-constructed fighters. I wasn’t about to help make them stronger. Lucas certainly knew how to hold my attention, but there was something wrong with a weapon being fired without a real conscience behind the trigger.
“So, since they seem to respond to direct orders, what’s to stop someone from telling one of them to kill everybody in here?” I questioned.
“I’m glad you asked,” Lucas answered. “When we do go public, each Synthetic Humanoid will have their owner’s identity imprinted on them upon being purchased. All they have to do is be present during a simple neural-realignment surgery and then their they will respond only to the buyer. Their sole reason to exist will be to serve that owner.”
“Which is you right now, I’m guessing?”
“For safety reasons, each humanoid in this facility has been instructed only to obey the orders of myself and trusted members of my staff.” He stepped around David and ran his fingers along the android’s squared, clean-shaven chin. “Go ahead. Try issuing him a command.”
“Gladly.” I tapped the android on his strong shoulder. “David, shoot at the target and miss.”
David turned and regarded me with that same nothing-there stare as all the other androids. His gun remained safely by his hip.
“You see?” Lucas said. He then looked David directly in his eyes. “David, please incapacitate this man with a non-lethal gunshot.”
“Yes, sir,” David droned.
He rotated toward me and began to raise his gun-hand. Survival instincts kicked in. I wished I’d held onto my pistol. I prepared myself to pounce, but before the situation escalated, Lucas stepped in-between us and lifted his hands.
“David, stop,” he ordered calmly.
David immediately lowered the firearm and returned to standing at attention, arms slack along his sides. My heart was racing. I didn’t even realize I was crouched until I turned my head and realized I was looking at Lucas’ belt.
“Forgive the bluntness of my example,” he said.
“Forgive?” I stood to full height, straightened my duster, and mustered the poise of a veteran Collector. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”
“I knew an ordinary te
st wouldn’t prove anything to a man of your expertise.”
I took a long breath to calm myself. “I’ve had plenty of guns aimed at me, Doctor Mannekin, but never like that. Not even a second of hesitation and no payment necessary? You’re going to put me out of a damn job.”
“That is not my intent. Imagine, if you will, having a partner that would never question your orders, never experience fear, and would be instantly replaceable. Collector deaths could be lowered, and the simple tasks I know you detest could be delegated while you focus on the jobs only men like you can handle. There is no substitute for real experience and intuition after all.”
Now he was trying too hard to say exactly what I wanted to hear.
“All right, Doc,” I said. “I’ll admit, it’s all very impressive, but I prefer dealing with people who can reason. These…things make me wonder if that meteorite should’ve just finished us off centuries ago.”
Lucas’s lips formed a straight line. He was growing frustrated by my lack of enthusiasm. “The future is approaching faster than any of us could’ve imagined, Mr. Graves,” he said through clenched teeth. “I hope your personal aversion won’t affect your decision.”
“Don’t worry. I never take my job personal.”
My response caused his expression to soften. “Is there anything else you wish to know about their training?”
I scanned the room. There were many more things I wanted to know: What else the androids could do; exactly how they were made; how they screwed…but all I really needed to know was where the human subjects were staying, specifically one worth a nice chunk of change.
A sealed door led into the next enclosed segment of the station beyond the training area. This one was marked. A red, PRODUCTION CENTER: PROTECTION REQUIRED, sign was posted prominently on the central porthole. Through it, I noticed that there were no more polished corners or wood trim. Instead, the ceilings boasted exposed air ducts and circuits, without even the slightest attempt at disguising them. That meant raw materials and machinery. The shit beneath the station’s gleam. The good stuff.