My creativity has collapsed. But I still function
---
Our apartment smells of sweat, perfume, cocunut shampoo and cheap dinners. Freed from the public eye, we lounge around in our lingerie. Not the most physically comfortable, but the most mentally comforting.
Sylvie, Lou, Name and I wore almost the same teddy combination – Lou having fishnets rather than the sheer stocking Sylvie and I wore. I preferred darker colours, while Sylvie and Lew wore white.
Nam and Anri wore the same light, frilled camisole – Nam in silver and Anri in pink.
Data wore his starfleet uniform, completely undisturbed by our questioning, or our appearance
“So, does that mean you're not actually capable of sex,”
It's Lou again who asks.
“I am fully functional,” Data assures her, utterly nonplussed. “Programmed with a multiple techniques and a broad variety of pleasuring,”
As the toaster is programmed to make a broad variety of toast.
“But you're not a sexaroid?”
“Sexual pleasure is not my primary function,”
“So what is?” Sylive's eyes seem to zoom in to him. “What type of boomer are you?”
He looked at here “What is a boomer?” It takes his positronic brain a moment to catch up. “I have never heard that term for an artifical lifeform before?”
“We are,” I say, before realising I didn't really know how to explain it myself. “Genom cyberdroid division model Bu-33-S. Year of manufacture, 2029 for year 2030. Serial ID. GMV-SE1736001378878. Intelligent provision of human emotional and physical companionship.”
A small part of me quails at how mechanical my voice had sounded. Encoded in the serial number is a body-type, hair colour, eye colour, skin-tone and personality metrics. Data adds two and two.
“Why would anyone create a sentient lifeform with the sole purpose of proviinge sexual pleasure?”
“Humans get lonely,” answers Nam, “Everyone needs someone,”
“Humans are evil,” answers Lou with a bitter sneer. Knowing her history, neither of us come to the defense of mankind.
“Why?” Data asks simply.
Lou scowls. The air stains with anger. “My personality map was altered to continually resist unwanted partners,” her blue eyes stared at the android in the chair. “Eventually he subdued me and forced himself on me, I was programmed to prefer to struggle rather than comply.”
Data stared. Nam embraced her.
“Humans made us to know we were slaves. They made me so I could realise resistance was futile every night of my life. Then forget every morning.”
For all the world, Data looked to be genuinely saddened. Perhaps those Three Words had triggered a little something in his mind.
“I cannot understand why someone would do such a thing.”
“Power,” she spat.
Data sat, considering. Nam held Lou around the waist, resting her head soothingly against her shoulder. The instinct to comfort rose inside my body, forcing me to shift uncomfortably on the bed.
“A Starfleet researcher once attempted to have me dismantled in order to study my construction,” said Data. “I decided to resign from Starfleet rather than comply. The researcher attempted to have me declared the property of Starfleet.”
The girls leant in towards him. Eyes stared.
“It was ruled that I was entitled to all the rights of a sentient being,” he explained, before looking at us each in turn. “The same ruling acts as precedent for any other artificial lifeform in the Federation,”
Nam’s face lit up with pure, radiant hope. “How do we get to the Federation?”
“I do not know,” said Data.
“How did you get here then?” Asked Lout
“I do not know,” he said again. “I had just begun an attempt to dream, and then, I was aroused by a police officer. I found myself lying in a side-street with no recollection of being transported. Only 3.7 seconds had passed according to my internal chronometer.”
“Huh,” I said.
“We died.” Said Sylvie, quickly, hoping it would offer some thread he could join up. “Meg, Lou and Nam died in the escape,” she explained, “I was killed by a friend.” She didn’t even flinch. “Anri died to protect the same person. Then we woke up here.”
She might’ve been describing the order we got ourselves off the bus. I stood as a spectator to my own death, watching it from the inside. Her death, I reminded myself.
“Our RTC’s were out of sync,” she continued. “We were taken as we died, repaired, then placed here at once.”
“Meg was even programmed with a human’s memories,” Anri chirped.
I shot her a dark glare, loaded with pheromones. Data’s gaze turned to me.
“I help them fit in. They haven’t lived with humans before,” I said. “Neither Meg they knew, or the me I was, could’ve done it.”
For obvious reasons.
“Remarkable.” Said Data. “Whatever entity is responsible for us must have considerable power,”
Definitely.
--
Data bathed in the blue glow from the television screen. The newsreader fed him with the daily bad news
….Which makes it the second deadlist mass shoting in America this week. President Trump interrupted his weekly golf outing to Tweet….”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
His golden eyes stared at the screen, reflections of a massacre sparking off both of them.
“I am scanning news events and comparing them with the historical records in my memory, looking for any matches,” he turned to me, still staring. “Thus far I have been unsuccessful. That would lead me to believe that this is some form of alternate reality.”
I breathed, then settled myself onto the black leather couch beside him.
“There’s something I need to show you,”
I took the remote control from his thigh. My fingers brushed his leg as I did so, a feigned sigh of satisfaction rising through my throat. Algorithms churned over the sensation, analysing him – his expressions, his lack of response.
Boomer, my mind concluded. Unknown type. Responses not within expected parameters.
“What are you doing?”
I think he responded to the inadvertent, advertant touch.
“There’s something you need to see.”
I had the whole series saved on a hardrive. It took ten seconds to bring it up on a mediap player onscreen.
Three seconds afterwards, Data came face-to-face with his fictional self.
“Fascinating,” he breathed.
-----
---
Our apartment smells of sweat, perfume, cocunut shampoo and cheap dinners. Freed from the public eye, we lounge around in our lingerie. Not the most physically comfortable, but the most mentally comforting.
Sylvie, Lou, Name and I wore almost the same teddy combination – Lou having fishnets rather than the sheer stocking Sylvie and I wore. I preferred darker colours, while Sylvie and Lew wore white.
Nam and Anri wore the same light, frilled camisole – Nam in silver and Anri in pink.
Data wore his starfleet uniform, completely undisturbed by our questioning, or our appearance
“So, does that mean you're not actually capable of sex,”
It's Lou again who asks.
“I am fully functional,” Data assures her, utterly nonplussed. “Programmed with a multiple techniques and a broad variety of pleasuring,”
As the toaster is programmed to make a broad variety of toast.
“But you're not a sexaroid?”
“Sexual pleasure is not my primary function,”
“So what is?” Sylive's eyes seem to zoom in to him. “What type of boomer are you?”
He looked at here “What is a boomer?” It takes his positronic brain a moment to catch up. “I have never heard that term for an artifical lifeform before?”
“We are,” I say, before realising I didn't really know how to explain it myself. “Genom cyberdroid division model Bu-33-S. Year of manufacture, 2029 for year 2030. Serial ID. GMV-SE1736001378878. Intelligent provision of human emotional and physical companionship.”
A small part of me quails at how mechanical my voice had sounded. Encoded in the serial number is a body-type, hair colour, eye colour, skin-tone and personality metrics. Data adds two and two.
“Why would anyone create a sentient lifeform with the sole purpose of proviinge sexual pleasure?”
“Humans get lonely,” answers Nam, “Everyone needs someone,”
“Humans are evil,” answers Lou with a bitter sneer. Knowing her history, neither of us come to the defense of mankind.
“Why?” Data asks simply.
Lou scowls. The air stains with anger. “My personality map was altered to continually resist unwanted partners,” her blue eyes stared at the android in the chair. “Eventually he subdued me and forced himself on me, I was programmed to prefer to struggle rather than comply.”
Data stared. Nam embraced her.
“Humans made us to know we were slaves. They made me so I could realise resistance was futile every night of my life. Then forget every morning.”
For all the world, Data looked to be genuinely saddened. Perhaps those Three Words had triggered a little something in his mind.
“I cannot understand why someone would do such a thing.”
“Power,” she spat.
Data sat, considering. Nam held Lou around the waist, resting her head soothingly against her shoulder. The instinct to comfort rose inside my body, forcing me to shift uncomfortably on the bed.
“A Starfleet researcher once attempted to have me dismantled in order to study my construction,” said Data. “I decided to resign from Starfleet rather than comply. The researcher attempted to have me declared the property of Starfleet.”
The girls leant in towards him. Eyes stared.
“It was ruled that I was entitled to all the rights of a sentient being,” he explained, before looking at us each in turn. “The same ruling acts as precedent for any other artificial lifeform in the Federation,”
Nam’s face lit up with pure, radiant hope. “How do we get to the Federation?”
“I do not know,” said Data.
“How did you get here then?” Asked Lout
“I do not know,” he said again. “I had just begun an attempt to dream, and then, I was aroused by a police officer. I found myself lying in a side-street with no recollection of being transported. Only 3.7 seconds had passed according to my internal chronometer.”
“Huh,” I said.
“We died.” Said Sylvie, quickly, hoping it would offer some thread he could join up. “Meg, Lou and Nam died in the escape,” she explained, “I was killed by a friend.” She didn’t even flinch. “Anri died to protect the same person. Then we woke up here.”
She might’ve been describing the order we got ourselves off the bus. I stood as a spectator to my own death, watching it from the inside. Her death, I reminded myself.
“Our RTC’s were out of sync,” she continued. “We were taken as we died, repaired, then placed here at once.”
“Meg was even programmed with a human’s memories,” Anri chirped.
I shot her a dark glare, loaded with pheromones. Data’s gaze turned to me.
“I help them fit in. They haven’t lived with humans before,” I said. “Neither Meg they knew, or the me I was, could’ve done it.”
For obvious reasons.
“Remarkable.” Said Data. “Whatever entity is responsible for us must have considerable power,”
Definitely.
--
Data bathed in the blue glow from the television screen. The newsreader fed him with the daily bad news
….Which makes it the second deadlist mass shoting in America this week. President Trump interrupted his weekly golf outing to Tweet….”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
His golden eyes stared at the screen, reflections of a massacre sparking off both of them.
“I am scanning news events and comparing them with the historical records in my memory, looking for any matches,” he turned to me, still staring. “Thus far I have been unsuccessful. That would lead me to believe that this is some form of alternate reality.”
I breathed, then settled myself onto the black leather couch beside him.
“There’s something I need to show you,”
I took the remote control from his thigh. My fingers brushed his leg as I did so, a feigned sigh of satisfaction rising through my throat. Algorithms churned over the sensation, analysing him – his expressions, his lack of response.
Boomer, my mind concluded. Unknown type. Responses not within expected parameters.
“What are you doing?”
I think he responded to the inadvertent, advertant touch.
“There’s something you need to see.”
I had the whole series saved on a hardrive. It took ten seconds to bring it up on a mediap player onscreen.
Three seconds afterwards, Data came face-to-face with his fictional self.
“Fascinating,” he breathed.
-----
I love the smell of rotaries in the morning. You know one time, I got to work early, before the rush hour. I walked through the empty carpark, I didn't see one bloody Prius or Golf. And that smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole carpark, smelled like.... ....speed.
One day they're going to ban them.