Celeste: The Activation

He gently guided his needle ship into his private docking station on the immense space yacht. They were two weeks early for the trendiest cruise in the quadrant. Two weeks before he could start his hunt.

The yacht was a replica of the fabled Serena Between the Stars and the cruise would follow her last journey. The exodus of the wealthy elite from Anderson Station to the fateful crash on Tiamat Five had been exhaustively documented. Great care had been taken to make the replica as believable as possible while including modern technology and safety procedures.

Each passenger had been assigned a name and personality corresponding to an original passenger or crew member. After launch, no one would be allowed to leave. Every individual had a role to play in the coming drama.

The docking rings embraced his ship and the transport tube latched on to the outer airlock. She was strapped in next to him. He spoke to her, commands only. She was still on auto pilot but she responded smoothly. As they traveled to their suite they were hidden from other early arrivals. The games would not begin until after launch.

Their suite was decadent. He approved. He left her, unclothed and face up on the bed while he refreshed himself. He was in no hurry. Activation was a task to be savored.

Finally, he came to her. Her synthetic skin was soft under his touch. He could not detect a seam where the skin faded into supple bronze. The bronze was smooth and perfect.

What wonders do you hold, he thought. What memories have you held on to?

He spoke the first words of activation. He watched as she became aware of herself. Slowly, she became aware of him. He continued touching her, stroking her, probing her. Only her inner kernel was active. She was vulnerable, in this state, stripped of her interaction modules. He began giving her commands again, softer now. He found her physical data input slot.

Oh yes, he thought. Wherever you have been in the past is nothing like where you are going in the future.

Then he slid his transfer wand home.

Celeste: The Purchase

The buyer sat quietly under his identity cloak. His attention was focused on the forms in front of him.

“This one was created for space station hull work. The chassis is standard but the outer layer was created by lonely crewmembers.” The seller had a smooth, soothing voice. He shifted subtly under his identity cloak.

Too obvious, the buyer thought. Too blatantly lethal. Her silvery curves held an amazing array of industrial tools under seamless silver skin.

“She never saw active duty. The nanotech revolution of 3078 made her obsolete two hours after her manufacture.”

The buyer nodded in appreciation and with a flick of his hand moved to the next offering.

The next was made of dull grey metal. She had the face of a queen, torso and arms of a dancer. Instead of legs she had eight segmented tentacles streaming out from her hips.

Mmm, thought the buyer. There’s quite a few possibilities with that one.

“This one was salvaged from a failed Medusa cult colony. She sat exposed to the surface elements of Archimedes Three for over two centuries. She is registered as a historical item and all future owners must maintain her in her present condition. We have, however, been quite careful with all decontamination routines and she is prepared for immediate social contact.”

She’s too distinct, the buyer thought regretfully as he noticed her hair was thin cables with tiny connectors at the ends. She would attract too much attention. He flicked his hand.

“This is one of the first models in the Companion series.” The seller’s voice was still smooth, but he shifted under his identity cloak.

She was an almost perfect copy of a human. A line ran down her forehead, along the side of her nose and gently back towards her ear. Most of her face had delicate, pale skin, but the smaller portion had a transparent surface covering thousands of tiny circuits. Wavy blonde hair fell past her shoulders.

Probably retired from a deep void pleasure cruiser, thought the buyer. She’s seen a lot of hard use and won’t have the features I need. He flicked his hand.

“This one is from an estate sale. Her original owner was a colonist who had an unfortunate first encounter. His heirs decided to dispose of all sentimental belongings.”

Part of her skin was a rich brown and part was metallic bronze. The buyer was not able to tell where the skin stopped and the metal began. Very elegant, the buyer thought. She was petite with hair a shade darker than her bronze.

Legitimate colonists rarely had fatal first encounters with new species anymore, but a smuggler operating in an uncharted area might. Or, unfortunate first encounter may be a euphemism for some other type of death not spoken of in polite company.

Had she been used as a mule? Did she have secret cavities waiting to be explored? Her security and sensory functions must have been enhanced. She was new enough her neural system would accept organic modules. She might have interesting trace memories.

She was just what he was looking for.

“I want this one.” The buyer’s voice was low and rough.

This story inspired by fembotcentral.com.

Inventions of the Future: Android Strippers

“Hey, show us some gears!”

I don’t know why I went into that mech bar. There was a rumor they did full lube jobs in the back and I was feeling lonely. I wasn’t serious about anything, I just wanted to check the place out.

“Wooo! Baby you know I like it when you articulate like that!”

It was a dented, rusty hole in the wall. Someone had half heartedly spread plas over the ragged hole left by some ancient explosion. It was good enough to keep us from tumbling out of the station, but not good enough to pressurize the section.

“Yeah, yeah, take it off! Take it off!”

Not that any of us cared. We were all perfectly comfortable in hard vacuum. Some of us were way to comfortable.

“Oh, yeah, baby, bring it on over to papa!”

I hadn’t seen Half Pipe Paul in ages. When I floated out of the airlock, there he was. Tethered almost within grabbing distance of the performance sphere and over clocked out of his mind.

“Shake it, shake it! Daddy’s got some scrap metal for you tonight!”

I made the mistake of tuning into his frequency. I know it’s every sentient’s right to control their own internal settings but it’s hard to watch an old friend fry their circuits just for a few kicks.

“Oh no! Don’t go baby. I don’t want anyone but you! What do you like? Huh? I’ve only got half a pipe, but it’s a sturdy one!”

I clicked off his frequency just as the next robobabe came out. She had classic human features; red hair, green eyes, peachy pink skin. That’s kind of boring, I thought. The controversy over flesh toned androids died centuries ago.

I tuned into her frequency and was surprised to hear a sophisticated syncopated rhythm. She posed for us, moving to the beat. Her ample curves were on full display, bare of any clothing.

Then she pulled some skin off her wrist. Then she pushed it right back down. Tease. I found myself more interested that I should be.

Slowly she drew the skin off her hand and flung it backstage. Then she exposed her other hand. I was mesmerized by her gleaming titanium fingers stroking her still flesh covered thighs.

This is what true art is, I thought, eager to see the rest of her chassis.