i-Seductress

Your mind was a blur as you drove through the rainy streets. A thousand images flashed through your memory, your wife going down the ski slopes, her graceful form shifting, ducking, weaving like she was born to it. And then the crash, losing her balance and colliding with tree so hard that you were certain she was killed there and then.

Several broken ribs, a shattered collarbone. Both legs, one arm, a collapsed lung and a skull fracture and bruising on the brain so **** that she lay in a medically induced coma for three weeks. It was a miracle she was still alive, but it had been made clear to you by the small army of doctors and physiotherapists that rehabilitation would be a long, gruelling process. And that was just the physical side of things. Mentally, Lauren might never fully recover. In the moments of consciousness she experienced, your wife was forgetful and easily confused.

It had been hell, and with a full time job and two kids to consider, things got out of hand. Dishes piled up, the house went into disrepair, and the kids struggled with their schoolwork. Your life was becoming overwhelming.

That’s when one of your coworkers reached out, and directed you to ImaginE-Tech and their cutting edge work with Artificial Intelligence and robotics. You were leery at first- Androids were still a new concept and several states and countries had banned their production and sale, but you were **** and the promise of a good deal spurred you on.

You shook the thoughts away, pulled into the parking lot outside the ImaginE-Tech building, took a deep breath, and got out. Instantly you were greeted with a shiny, vibrant reception that gleamed with wealth and intelligence. Your eyes were directed to the reception- a polished black affair that broke up the sleek whites and silvers, and the young woman smiling back at you.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

You straightened your shoulders and **** a smile. “Uh, yes. I have an appointment,” you approached, “Brad Taylor, I’m here for-”

“Ah yes!” She chirped, confirming with her computer, “Mr Steward is expecting you, just a moment,” she tapped tapped a key, glanced at the device for three seconds and then smiled up at you. “He’s coming now.”

Within two heartbeats the elevator door buzzed and a well-dressed man with a patrician bearing approached, holding out his hand. “Mr Taylor,” he greeted. “So good to finally meet you.”

You shook his hand, trying to bury your ****. “Uh, yeah, likewise.”

“Did you read the information I sent you?” He asked politely. “Terms and conditions and all that?”

“Yeah, it felt like I was activating my smartphone.”

That got a laugh out of Steward. “I think you’ll find our product quite a bit more useful than a smartphone,” he put his arm around your shoulder, “come, let’s show you what we’ve got on stock.”

You were led into the elevator and shortly brought up to the seventh floor of the building. What greeted you could only be described as a full gallery, though the pieces on display were human beings of every kind.

Men, Women, youthful, elderly, all in varying ethnicities and body types. Each of them stood perfectly still at what looked to be oversized charging ports. Black strips provided them modesty, but otherwise showed off most of their physiques. Their eyes were open, but unfocused, lifeless.

Feeling your feet moving on their own, you wandered up close to better examine them. If not for the unnatural way they all stood, you would have thought they were all genuine human beings and not androids.

“Amazing, aren’t they?” Steward beamed at the catalogue. “Each one has been specifically designed and programmed by a full team of our best and brightest.”

“They look…real,” you gasped, tempted to reach out and touch the closest one- an elderly Hispanic woman. “Almost flesh and blood instead of metal and plastic.”

Steward nodded. “That’s because, strictly speaking, they’ve been developed with synthetic biology.” He reached out and poke the android’s tanned arm, “while the skeletal structure is a titanium alloy designed by NASA, and their brain is a positron computer, much of the musculature and fleshier parts are derived from a specifically engineered mass of lab-grown tissue. Not quite human, because work has been done to alter the genome in order for better performance and durability, but not quite the artificial plastic crap you might have heard about.”

“So it’s living skin?” You blinked, shocked. “Like, the Terminator?”

“Not just skin,” Steward replied, gesturing to the android’s midsection. “There are even a collection of artificial organs. A digestive system that is far more efficient than ours. Sweat glands that can produce calming pheromones, and even a pulse and heartbeat that can sooth children and newborns.”

“Holy shit…”

The older man turned to him. “Now I understand you’re looking for something that can help in your domestic situation,” he gestured about, “all of these models have been programmed to help with cooking, cleaning, and childcare. They have advanced problem solving skills and are incredibly self-sufficient.”

You examined the different models. “Is there any difference in ability between them?”

“It’s largely an aesthetic difference,” Steward replied casually. “Some people feel more comfortable with a female-model watching over their children, while others like the added security of having a larger male-model to have around the house. But any real difference is only on the surface tissue and some of the lower organs. Their positron brains and titanium skeletons are all the same, in terms of smarts and strength.”

You took a deep breath. It was confronting, looking at the rows of artificial beings standing before you. But you had no room for doubts. Your kids needed more help than you could provide alone, and your wife, whenever she left the hospital would need assistance.

Scanning the group of androids, you found your gaze returning to one specific model….