Brad, who has ordered a golem.

Brad opened the door before the young woman one his porch could reach for the doorbell. He had been waiting anxiously, looking out the window every few minutes for the entire afternoon. After an endless month of waiting, his golem was finally here.

On his porch were two women. One was a short blonde in a professional blouse and skirt; Brad barely glanced at her before his eyes were drawn to the beauty next to her. She was a tall, slender woman with hazelnut eyes and chestnut hair. Her thin face was softened by a gentle smile and the breeze ruffling her yellow sundress drew attention to the sensual curves it covered.

"Hello. Mr. Jensen?" The short woman asked. Brad tore his eyes away from his new toy to look at her and nod. "May we come in?"

He nodded again and let them in. The pair entered, the blonde purposefully leading the brunette with an arm in the crook of her elbow and the brunette demurely gliding across the living room with her. Brad closed the door and turned to see the two women standing next to his couch.

"Please, have a seat," he said nervously. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," the company representative said as they sat.

"So, uh, how does this work?" Brad asked. "Do I have to sign something?"

"No, sir," she responded. The golem continued to smile placidly at him. "My name is Monica. I'm here to give you a tour of your new companion." She patted the golem on the back and it nodded.

"Uh, ok. Tour away!" Brad said with a nervous chuckle. After months of anticipation, he found himself at a loss for words. Monica seemed to anticipate this; she quickly started her presentation.

"This is your Model D companion, made to your exact specifications," she began. "She is fully autonomous, requiring no maintenance or sustenance. She functions according to the script that is placed in her mouth, and will do so until it is removed."

"Can she talk?" Brad asked. He was beginning to worry about her strange, docile demeanor.

"Currently, she only speaks when instructed to. When we deliver golems, we give them a very basic default script. Right now she simply follows orders; she has no personality, no creativity, and no will." Monica touched the golem's shoulder. "Take off your dress."

Brad's eyes widened as the beauty before him stood and removed her dress. She was wearing a basic cream-colored bra and black panties. She casually dropped the dress to floor and stood with the same listless, docile smile. Brad tried not to stare at the sublime body that was designed to perfectly match his fantasies.

"You see, no bells or whistles. She's not embarrassed. She'll just stand here in her underwear until she's issued another command or given a more complex script. Put the dress back on."

As the golem silently picked up her dress and slipped it over her head, Brad asked another question. "How do you change her script?"

Monica pulled out a leather case that resembled a large wallet. "These are the basic scripts that you ordered. More can be made at any time according to your specifications. To remove the script, you simply touch her forehead and utter the unbinding word."

She instructed the golem to sit down and placed her index and middle finger in the center of its forehead. "HITTIR," she said, and the golem's mouth shot open. A small scrap of paper about the size of a credit card flitted out and the golem collapsed back onto the couch limply. Her eyes turned milky white and her limbs hung strangely, as if all of her joints had been somehow loosened. The effect made her look artificial, like a discarded marionette.

"Now it's fully non-functional. It will remain in this state until another script is given to it. Would you like to pick one?" She offered the case to Brad.

He took it and began to look through the contents. Each card looked similar to the one that had come out of her mouth; on closer inspection, Brad realized that it wasn't actually paper but some strange rigid synthetic fiber that called to mind the old snap bracelets from the nineties. Each was oddly textured on one side, with thousands of miniscule points that gave it a sandpapery feel.

"How do I know which one's which?" he asked. Monica had retrieved the script that had fallen from the thing's mouth and was holding it out to him. He examined it and noticed that where the others were fully textured on one side, it only had a small strip of that strange bumpy surface across the middle of the card.

"Each of these scripts contains the necessary symbols to activate her and a description of her task. That task may be as simple as making a sandwich or as complex as translating a novel. Her personality, her behavior, her likes and dislikes, even her mannerisms are all encoded on this. Her default card includes very little instruction, so it only has a small amount of script on it. That tiny strip is actually a document that comes to about forty five pages in length."

"Forty-five pages?" Brad stared at the script with wonder.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "The more complex scripts contain thousands of pages of instructions. Golem technology has come a long way, and this is how we're able to give them the nuances to replicate a human mind."

"But she's not human, right?" Brad asked.

"Not in any meaningful sense. A golem exists only to do what is written on the script. If their task can be completed, they will become completely inert upon accomplishing it. That's why all of her scripts include an order to serve you as long as you live; until your ****, she will remain active and dedicated to you."

Brad eyeballed the form on the couch thoughtfully. Monica smiled, knowing that she had kindled his imagination. "Each card comes with a short description on the back as well as a short numeric code. You can use the code with our app to explore the full script; you can even modify it and request a new one based on your modifications. Now, why don't you pick a script?"