CHAPTER 6
Roll entered Dr. Light's quarters holding a tablet with flight information. Her pings had gone unanswered, which meant Light was in a situation where he couldn't hear. But she needed a response soon, so she engaged the mansion location tracking and found him in his bedroom.
"Dr. Light," she said. "I have a question about the conference. You've been assigned to the committee for integrating new operating systems into future Artificial Intelligence. But the conference just updated their timetable. There is now a conflict with your panel on Replicating AI Personality. If I make the switch..."
She stopped once she realized Light wasn't acknowledging her. He lay on his back, eyes closed, his breathing matching circadian rhythms. He didn't usually nap during the day.
"Dr. Light?" She tugged at his arm.
He opened his eyes. "Hello?"
"Dr. Light? You were sleeping."
Light squinted at her, suspicious. "Oh, Roll, it's you."
"Of course it is," she laughed.
Light lifted himself up from the bed. "I'm sorry. I knew it was you. I just didn't recognize you at first."
"Probably just sleep disorientation."
Light shrugged. "Eh, I don't know. There's something different about you. Ever since I made those modifications."
Roll froze. "Those modifications were mostly cosmetic."
"I know. But still. Something about the way you carry yourself." Light reached over to his bed to check the time on his PDA. "That reminds me. I need to do a check-up on your program history."
"You do?" Roll concentrated on body language that wouldn't betray any secrets.
Light nodded. "Just to make sure I didn't break something. Memory leaks, unused code, that sort of thing."
If Light found anything in her system to indicate her activities... With enough time, she could figure out a way to erase those logs. "But you have to prepare for the conference first. You won't have a chance to do that-"
"Nah, I can do it right here." Light picked up a tablet and extended a retractable cord.
Roll obediently set herself on the bed. Dr. Light plugged the cord into one of the seamless ports under her arm.
As Dr. Light pressed icons, running through diagnostic modes, he asked, "Have you noticed any changes in your behavior since I installed the new modifications?"
"No," Roll said. "Request-response trees remain the same."
Light nodded. "I expected that. The only changes I made were to your equipment interface. I didn't change your core personality matrix. "
Roll looked at the floor. "Yes, I'm finding out that just because I have the equipment doesn't make me human."
"Exactly," Light said, watching the progress bars fill.
Roll stared straight ahead. "...What would make me human?"
Light sat back on his elbows. "Well, Roll, I'm not sure there's an answer to that. Do you remember the story of the Tin Man from 'The Wizard of Oz'?"
"Book or movie?"
"The original book. Where the witch cast a spell on his axe to chop off his leg. He went to the tinsmith who made him a new leg out of tin. Then the axe chopped off his other leg, so he had that replaced with a tin one. Then he had to have his arms replaced. Then his head. Then his body, until he was completely made of tin. So does that mean he's still the same person?"
Roll's eyes constricted as she thought for a few seconds - equivalent to hours of concentrated human cognition - and said, "I can't answer that. The concept isn't possible, to replace human parts with hollow tin. I can't extrapolate enough information to conjecture."
"Okay, let me try again." Light scratched his chin, between taps of the touchscreen. "Let's say you let someone borrow a computer. You let him keep it as long as he wants, modify it how he wants. Over time, he upgrades the hard drive, the memory, replaces the motherboard, the casing, everything. Eventually, there is no part of that computer that you originally owned. Then he uses that computer to hack into a bank and steal a sum of money. Can you still be liable if you're the one who gave him the computer?"
Roll sat and thought, this time for much longer. Long enough for the diagnostics to finish. "Well?" Light asked, after he put his tablet away.
"I'm not sure," Roll said.
Light smiled. "It's a philosophical question, dear," he said. "It's not supposed to have an answer. It's supposed to make you think."
"My difficulty is that I feel left out of certain understandings. All the things humans have. Like... foods. I don't know what it is about an orange that compels some people to love or hate them. Or why some people who hate oranges drink orange juice? Or enjoy orange-flavored candy? And some the opposite? I can't grasp that desire-repulsion response."
"I'm not sure if you ever will. But humans don't go around saying 'something's missing in my life because I don't like oranges'."
"How does that relate to my experiences in understanding humans?"
Light sat up and patted Roll's back. "What I'm trying to say is you started out as a robot. Your experiences are as a robot. That's not going to change, it can't ever change. I wouldn't want it to."
"But if robots can get closer to being human, the better humanity will be able to relate and sympathize," Roll said. "Or they will continue to be persecuted."
"That's what people seem to think," Light said as he wrapped the cord back up. "I'm not trying to make robots into good humans. I'm trying to make them into good robots."
Roll nodded, thinking she understood herself, at least a little better than before.
Mega Man had outfits others might not have known about. He'd worn a business suit, he'd worn swim trunks. And of course, his armor plating changed color schemes according to his Variable Weapon System.
He had never worn a disguise.
Mostly, he needed to cover his face. His body type was plain enough not to draw suspicion. Finding non-descript clothing was more difficult. He chose a ragged gray hooded sweatshirt, sunglasses, and baggy pants. The key was dirtying up his face. No one would expect a robot to appear unclean.
Once he teleported into a sparse section of downtown, he speed-walked around a few blocks, replicating a random human gait, up to the door to Platinum Pleasures. He tugged on the large metal handle attached to the solid wood, and entered.
It opened onto a narrow, dim hallway, carpeted in thin, paisley velvet. Cheap wood paneling covered the walls - hardly up to fire code. The door at the other end was locked, as indicated by the red light by the knob.
A glass pane, like an old bank teller's window, sat on his right. A robot-looking robot manned the post. Spheroid head, glass eyes, smooth metal body - Mega Man doubted it even had facial recognition software.
"Welcome to Platinum Pleasures," it said in a sultry, pre-recorded voice. "You're just moments away from an unforgettable encounter with the finest relational simulators. Please indicate your payment type. For other options-"
"Cash card," Mega Man said. He had no money of his own, but he could connect to Light's accounts. Even though transactions were traceable, Light was not likely to examine his balance sheet. He had too much to do and too much money to care. Nonetheless, Rock wanted to be safe, so he withdrew an advance, which had no source identifiers.
He slid the plastic card under the tiny dip in the glass. The robot picked it up with its clacking fingers and inserted it down below.
"Please select a room. Your options are-"
"Cheapest room. One hour." Mega Man had no need for pleasant human aesthetics or fantasies, and he wanted to get out of the public eye.
The robot softly buzzed, using its rudimentary AI for interpreting human input to digital selections.
"Your account has been debited." A slot beneath the window spit out a flimsy keycard. "Thank you. Enjoy your experience at Platinum Pleasures."
The light at the end of the hall turned green. Mega Man yanked the card away and barreled through the door.
He entered a new hallway in the same decor, lined with multiple doors like a small motel. No sounds, no voices, no people around. Was the entire building automated?
Mega Man checked his room key. A bold "4B" was written in spotty ink next to a magnetic strip. Mega Man followed the room numbers until he found it.
Now he was in a tinier room, devoid of lights. If this was a converted motel, he predicted this was the foyer area. A hastily constructed plaster wall with a locked door kept it cordoned from the main bedroom. The closet had been drywalled and replaced with a thirteen-inch touchscreen monitor.
In one corner, a countdown clock ticked down from nearly an hour. By his calculations, it had triggered once he opened the door. The rest of the screen heralded a large Platinum Pleasures logo and a "Press Start to Begin" icon.
"Welcome to the Platinum Pleasures Options Menu," said the same sultry voice. "Get ready to experience the hottest sexual partners you've ever met. But first, we need a little information about what you're interested in. If you have a saved configuration, please enter the passcode now. Otherwise, follow the prompts to create your perfect experience."
The first menu gave him options on the number of participants, with indications that more than one would debit his account exponentially. He selected a single partner.
Next was appearance. Various menus and sub-menus let one select hair color, eye color, nose shape, body shape. He could choose petite, mature, curvy, lanky, large, or even enter a specific poundage.
Mega Man pawed back and forth through the dozens of menus and sub-menus, learning what was available. The problem was he didn't know what he wanted. Some human men gained preferences over time, but he had no such luxury.
There were predetermined templates for those who didn't need so much detail: girl next door, starlet, tramp, party girl, housewife, nympho teen, diva, and so on. Even that small list left him overwhelmed. And each second he spent deciding ate time off the clock.
However, one button allowed him to randomize appearance. He pressed it and the screen shifted the sliders for hair color, age, outfit, and so on, to random places. It asked the customer to confirm, which Mega Man did.
The second section was about personality and attitude. Mega Man sighed. Humans would barely have any time left before they finished. No wonder they allowed saving.
Mega Man paged through some detailed options: warmth, dominance, privacy, perfectionism, tension, sensitivity, social boldness, and so on. Again, predetermined arrangements displayed: self-actualized, abusive, desperate, virginal, friendly, tomboy, straightforward, independent. Mega Man chose to randomize again and confirmed.
Then a strange question appeared. "Would you like consensual or non-consensual?" That seemed an odd thing to ask, especially considering a robot following human orders would make anything consensual. He figured it was a role-playing element, unnecessary to him, and selected "consensual".
"Thank you. Please wait a few minutes while we set up your room."
Mega Man figured this was a thinly disguised way of saying they needed to compile and load the template he'd selected into an android. And the clock was still ticking. Mega Man humphed. They really knew how to suck a customer's every dime.
A few minutes later, the door pinged and unlocked. "Thank you, you're now ready-"
Mega Man ignored the speaker and entered. A different paisley pattern marked the walls and floors. The only furniture was a bed on a box frame.
On the bed lay a girl in a light, blue dress. She was a little smaller than Roll, but a little more body fat and a soft, oval face. Her hair was long and brunette, with bangs above her large hazel eyes.
She lay on her stomach, propping herself on the arms wrapped around her chest, which pressed her breasts together.
"Hi," she said in an airy voice. "Come on in." She rolled onto her back, dragging her hand across her soft flat belly. Her breasts sagged a bit, but were still a nice round shape.
Mega Man quickly scanned the area, deducing how she got in. A quick heat scan denoted a hidden door. It probably led to a hub where the automated system imaged, altered, and sent in robots - all under the illusion that no one operated behind the scenes.
And as far as standards went, it was a pretty good illusion. Using senses within hominid range, she was indistinguishable from any other human. She even smelled like one. The truth, though, lied in the Turing test.
"Hello," Mega Man said.
"How are you?" she asked.
"I'm fine, thanks."
"I'm Celeste."
"Nice to meet you, Celeste," Mega Man said, only half paying attention. He was still scanning the room.
"What do you want to do?" she asked. She rested her temple on her finger.
Mega Man approached the bed. The foot contained a drawer filled with various sex toys - a dildo, a strap-on, a small whip, a feather boa. He shut the drawer.
"You want to use some of those?" she asked. "You can."
"No. Truthfully, I don't know what I want to do."
"Oh, first time?"
"First time here, yes."
"No problem. I'm kinda nervous too." She giggled. "Would you like a massage? Maybe that'll warm you up," she said.
Mega Man resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The cutesy human schtick might work on other men, but he saw right through the primitive AI response. She couldn't even tell he was a robot. A massage would have no effect on him, since he didn't have lactic acid or endorphins.
"No. That would do nothing for me."
"How about a lap dance?"
"A lap dance..." Mega Man thought they were a thing of the past - an incorporation of dance and eroticism because exchanging money for sex was illegal. He never considered it an act of foreplay. "Yes, I would like that," Mega Man said.
She clapped her hands. "Good." She grabbed his arms and switched places with him, pulling him to the edge of the bed. "You sit there, and let me do the work. And if you feel like joining in..." She winked over her shoulder and made a girlish laugh.
With no prompting, the room began playing cool jazz at seventy beats per minute. A husky voiced female ululated lyrics about tasting, touching her "there", and giving "it" to her over the synthetic trumpet bleats.
Celeste swiveled her body, wiggling her ass when her back was to him. Her hips rocked side to side as she held up her long hair over her head.
"What kind of stuff do you like in the bedroom?" she whispered over the music.
"I'm not sure. I'm trying different things, learning what I like and what I don't."
"Mmm, so you're experimenting. I like that," she said as she hiked her skirt and let it drop. She placed her fingers in her mouth and sucked on them.
...
She craned her head back to him. "Do you like it when I talk dirty?"
Mega Man pulled his mouth from the widened and glistening gash. Just why was he doing this? This was a sex robot, built exclusively to give pleasure to someone else. She wasn't experiencing any mutual intimacy or arousal - she was spouting lines to encourage him. He didn't need to give back.
Mega Man stopped and pushed her forward. She turned back. "What?"
...
Celeste's stomach rose up and down in the perfect rhythm of an out-of-breath human. She laughed in her throat. "That was the best I ever had. It's like you knew exactly what I wanted."
Mega Man almost rolled his eyes. Because I did, he thought. He pulled his dick out of her with a sharp yank. She squealed in delight. "Do you want a rub down?"
"No," Mega Man said.
"You sure? There's nothing like it? You still have forty-two minutes and thirteen seconds left."
Mega Man turned back to the clock. She was right: plenty of his allotted time remained. He had no refractory period and a drawer full of toys.
"What do you want to do now?" Celeste asked.
"Hmmm..." he said.
Roll picked a dress from hundreds of patterns, using Theiss Titillation Theory and various other criteria to narrow down a choice. Then she printed and sewed it so it was ready to wear when Mega Man got back from... wherever he was. Sometimes he ran errands or tended the perimeter, so his disappearance wasn't uncommon.
The red dress was designed similar to her housekeeping dress, but revised to be more... well, suggestive. Instead of stain-resistant, color-keeping polyfiber, it was refined pseudo silk infused with micro-particles of magnesium oxide. Two skinny red straps held up her breasts, and didn't reconnect until they reached the waist, revealing her navel and stomach. It was backless, and ended just above the crack of her ass. A long slit ran down the sides where she could reveal a shapely leg.
It certainly made her feel sexy. She hoped Rock would reach the same conclusion. These encounters were starting to deviate from their original motive. It was supposed to be a fun thing, between two consenting adults. Sex without consequences or the shortcomings of a relationship.
The computer system pinged, letting her know Mega Man had teleported back to the mansion and was heading to his quarters. Roll returned to his bed as fast as she could, then set herself in the pose she had developed with practice. One hand behind her, legs crossed, listing to the side to maximize exposure of her breasts.
After a few minutes, Mega Man walked in. He looked, for lack of a better term, exhausted. Perhaps that wasn't right, maybe depleted or enervated. Even on furlough from a robot revolution, he wasn't as weary.
"Rock, you okay?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Fine. Yes, it's just I finally feel... satisfied. Wow," he said. "That's a nice dress."
"Thanks. I was hoping you'd like it. I was thinking maybe you could... rip it off me."
Mega Man was taken aback. "I thought you said you needed more time."
"I know. And I got it. I just needed a little time to process it all. Now I'm ready." Roll shifted her legs, so that her bare feet dangled off the bed. She wiggled her red-painted toes. "Don't you want me?"
Mega Man took a deep breath. "Sure. I mean, why not?" He grinned devilishly and sat down on the bed. Her lips parted at the touch of his. Their tongues danced around each other, like thick slugs wrestling.
...
Roll stretched her arms and purred. "That's the old stuff."
Rock asked. "Do you think that-"
The door opened. Dr. Light, holding a touch pad, came in. "Roll? I have-"
He met their eyes. They met his. And they froze.