Young Writers Society

“He has an error in his programming. He’s become sentient, with traits that will develop to imitate human emotion, if they haven’t already. Unfortunately, a reprogramming for this old model would cost more than buying a whole new android,” the shop keeper remarked in an uninterested tone. Lial nodded, chewing his cheek as he mulled over what to do.

“A new model, you say?”

“Fresh off the assembly line.”

“Well then…” Lial looked over to the powered down android lying across the checkered counter. “I might as well just go and get a new one. He’s practically an antique. Bought him for cheap at a flea market.” The shopkeeper nodded in agreement, a bored look on his face.

“Okay. Want me to bring out the consort droids that arrived today?” The shop owner was clearly itching to get up and do something other than have this conversation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Any preference?”

Lial bit his lip and narrowed his eyes as he thought about this question.

“Could I get a female? With short hair, and lots of curves.” The shop owner rolled his eyes and went into the back, which was sectioned off by a thick curtain. He returned with a long cardboard box in his arms.

“Here, hold this for a second.” The shop owner handed Lial the box and laid the old android on the floor. The forlorn robot’s long white hair pooled over the dirty laminate. Lial set the container on the counter and opened it up. Nestled inside was a beautiful droid with a brown buzzcut. She had full red lips, tan skin, and pronounced cheekbones. Her bust and hips were huge and disproportionate, and her waist thin. A specimen that could never have been confused for a human simply because of it’s extremely exaggerated sexual features. Lial licked his lips nervously and grinned.

“I’ll take her.”

“And the old droid?” the shop owner questioned, dark eyebrows raised.

“Throw it away for all I care,” Lial breathed dreamily as he caressed the new droid’s soft cheek. The shop owner sighed.

“Alright, that’s 2,000 gloks.” Lial happily dug out his wallet and forked over the cash. The lid was slid back onto the box and he was off, carrying his new, expressionless, mechanical “lover,” while his old one was left discarded on the filthy floor like a used match.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is he working?” Mela opened his crystal blue eyes slowly and saw two men peering at him.

“Looks like it,” replied the younger one, adjusting his cap. “Error in his programming, you say?”

“Yes, it happens occasionally with these older droids. Start to develop ‘feelings’ per se. They’re programmed to recognize and respond to their master’s emotions, and sometimes end up imitating them,” explained the older one as he examined Mela. The younger one chuckled.

“And the owners don’t want a sex robot with feelings, huh?” The older one laughed softly.

“Yep.” He stepped closer to Mela and gently turned his head from side to side, inspecting his range of motion. His slender arm was then lifted up by calloused hands.

“Can you move your fingers?” the older one asked flatly, speaking as if he didn’t expect Mela to be intelligent enough to understand immediately. Mela blinked, which made a light clicking noise, and turned his head to face the older one.

“Yes,” came his pleasantly sing-song response. He flexed his thin, gloved fingers, which moved a little stiffly. Mela’s once shiny nails had smudges of who-knows-what on them.

The older one raised Mela’s dark blue and white striped skirt and unbuckled the deep rose-pink boots he was wearing. He pulled them off and then rolled down the lacy white stockings. Smooth, pale skin came into view as the socks inched down Mela’s calves.

“Alright, wiggle your toes.” Mela complied, and then the older one put back on the shoes and stockings. “Seems to be in pretty good condition. Not sure what to do, though.” The younger one cocked his head.

“What do you mean?” The older one sighed, and ran a hand over his closely-cropped hair.

“Well, he’s a custom build. No others like him. He’s got male anatomy and feminine features. It’s usually hard to sell customs because they are tailored to its owner.”

“And it’s even harder to sell him because he’s old, right? Because people usually want the newer models,” the younger one interrupted. The older one looked slightly annoyed, but continued.

“That’s correct. And on top of that, this one has that glitch. The emotions one. Hardest error to get rid of, that one is. Would cost a hell of a lot to fix, too.” The older one paused. “Well, what do you think we should do, apprentice?”

‘Apprentice.’ That word wasn’t in Mela’s databanks yet. He stared at the younger one, his processor whirring as it tried to figure out the meaning.

“I think we should keep it here in one piece. It’ll be worth more as a whole rather than selling off the parts. And I don’t think we should reprogram it. Some people buy old droids to restore them, and I think someone out there would put the time forward to fix up this one.” The older one nodded approvingly.

“Sounds fine. We’ll put out some ads, see if anyone’s interested. For now, though, let’s turn him off and put him in a box for storage.” Mela felt a quick power surge through his wires.

“Please do not put me in a box.” He requested with wide eyes. The younger one, the “apprentice,” looked to him, surprised.

“Why would he say that?” he asked, slightly alarmed. The older one gave a pitiful glance to the droid.

“Some self-aware bots can vaguely detect their surroundings when they’re off. It’s rather like light sleeping.” The apprentice nodded.

“I see. Where should I put him, then?” The older one closed his eyes.

“Uh.. Just set him up against something when you turn him off so that he isn’t cramped.”

The older one then pushed through the curtain and left. The apprentice sat the droid down on a box and leaned his body against the stack of crates behind him. He pressed Mela’s power button, but only halfway. Mela observed that he probably hadn’t dealt with any old droids before. The button had to make two clicks before it was fully in off position, and new ones only made one click. Because the apprentice hadn’t pressed it all of the way, Mela was in power-saving mode. He was still able to see, hear, and process, but he could not move a single bit.

“Strange. Wonder why his eyes didn’t close,” the apprentice mumbled to himself as Mela sat there, motionless and helpless. He turned and walked out of the storage room, leaving Mela alone in the darkness. 

TBC..?