By keraptis02@hotmail.com
Inspired by “The Offer” by Android675@aol.com
If you have not read “The Offer” by Android675@aol.com, to which this
story is a sequel, stop right here and read it first. (It’s available here,
among other places.) You should also
read my first sequel to the original, ambitiously entitled “The Offer, Part 2,” which is also
available on this site. If you don’t, you may not understand
everything that occurs in this story!
Note: The following story contains explicit sexual material. If stories about sex, and particularly
robots and sex, do not appeal to you, please don’t read any further. This story should not be read by anyone under
eighteen years of age. (You know who
you are.)
Its
construction had only begun a few days ago, but already Production Facility One
had come a long way. Several large
machines had been assembled, and were already producing important components
required for the androids’ various projects.
A half-dozen N units—some monitoring the completed machines, others
building new ones—worked in different areas of the spacious factory. For the most part, they operated in perfect
silence, each acknowledging the others’ presence only when necessary.
Above
their heads, standing on a balcony overlooking the entire room, Unit T800
leaned against a gleaming white railing.
He watched with satisfaction as Units N979 and N986—Sam and Rosa—made
final adjustments to the newest of the machines. Ten feet long and waist-high, its main compartment had three
simple control panels along its chrome front, and its top contained three
corresponding glass windows for observation of the conveyor belt within. The belt was fed from above by a series of
glass tubes, each about six inches in diameter, containing stacks of various
electronic components. Where the belt
emerged at the far right of the machine, a sorter-stacker waited to receive its
final product.
Loading
a cylinder full of perfectly-stacked silver cones into the last of the tubes,
N979 turned neatly to stand at attention alongside the device. A moment later, N986 completed her work at
the machine’s leftmost control panel, and she too came to attention. Both androids now stared blankly ahead at
the far wall beneath the balcony on which T800 stood. The units spoke as one, their metallic voices echoing throughout
the chamber. “As.sem.bly.com.plete.”
“Well
done,” T800 called out before turning toward the elevator behind him. A moment later he had descended to the
factory floor and crossed the room to see their work up close. “Activate the machine,” he said.
Unit
N986 neatly turned 180 degrees to face the wall to the left of the
machine. Raising her left hand, she
pressed her palm to a small sensor panel built into the wall. With her right hand, she then pressed a
sequence of buttons on the control next to the panel. A low hum began to emanate from the machine, quickly building to
a crescendo as Unit N986 turned to stand at attention once again. Unit N979 had not moved.
The
machine was soon at peak operation. One
at a time, components were dropped from the tubes to be configured and
assembled by the arms within the machine.
Starting with the leftmost panel, status indicators now began to flash
along the length of the machine. As
soon as the rightmost panel lit up, the conveyor belt began to move—and Unit
N979 came to life. She turned stiffly
to her right to face the sorter-stacker.
A moment later, a fully-assembled piece rolled off the belt. With perfect mechanical precision, Unit N979
reached down to pick it up. She then
stood erect, turned, and walked toward Unit T800.
“Thank
you,” Unit T800 said as he took the newly-created device from her. The N unit did not respond, but simply stood
at attention, awaiting additional instructions.
At that
moment, the double doors to the production facility slid open, and Wendy
entered the room. Light from overhead
reflected brightly off the girl’s upper arms and thighs as she walked
purposefully to the center of the room.
She then turned neatly to face Unit T800 and took three steps
forward. DESTINATION REACHED. ACTIVATE VOCAL.
“U.nit.N.9.8.8.re.por.ting.as.in.struc.ted,”
Wendy heard herself drone. The words
were not coming from that part of her mind that still, inexplicably, remained
aware of her surroundings. “Stan.ding.by.”
“Excellent,”
T800 said. “Glad you’re here,
Wendy.” He turned back to Unit
N979. “Unit N979, you and Unit N986 may
resume your duties.”
“Af.firm.a.tive,”
Unit N979 replied. She now turned and
walked toward the far corner of the room, where several more N units were
assembling another large machine. Unit
N986 silently turned and joined her.
Unit
T800 looked down at the device still resting in his hand. He turned it over a few times, then raised
it to Wendy. “Unit N988,” he asked, “do
you know what this is?”
Still
rigid from the neck down, Wendy turned her head 45 degrees to her left to look
in the direction of T800’s hand.
IDENTIFY OBJECT. Her head tilted
slightly to the right as her eyes focused on the device. Accessing.
It was a
shiny chrome disk, three or four inches in diameter, like a flat cone with a
single red status light at its tip. The
light was off. The three circular seams
that ringed the status light were the only markings on the disk. Wendy immediately recognized it. There was no doubt: this was one of the disks from her dream!
But
Wendy’s conscious mind was not in control at the moment. And somehow, the rest of her—the new her,
the real her, the robotic part of her that made sense, as opposed to
this disembodied consciousness that shouldn’t even exist—had no idea what the
device was. Object not identified. ACTIVATE VOCAL. “Ne.ga.tive.”
“That’s
funny,” Unit T800 said. He seemed
genuinely surprised by the response. He
thought for a moment, then seemed to get an idea. “Unit N988, please go to functional level one.”
SET UNIT
TO FUNCTIONAL LEVEL ONE. Wendy
shuddered slightly as control of her body returned to her. She felt normal again—or as close to normal
as she’d felt in a while. The truth
was, she no longer had any idea what the word meant.
“Hi, um
. . . greetings, Unit T800,” she said nervously. Why did she always feel like she was in trouble?
“Greetings,
Wendy. I’m going to call you Wendy for
now, if you don’t mind.”
“Of
course not. You can do whatever you
like.” Wendy felt herself getting a bit
excited, standing there in her spandex suit before a gleaming chrome man who
could literally have anything he wanted of her. Somehow, though, she knew he wouldn’t be giving her the commands
she was wishing for.
“Wendy,
do you know what this is?”
“I think
so. It’s a programming disk. It’s designed to convert a willing human
being into a Stage Two android. It’s
far superior to the hip-mounted disks that are being used to program me and the
other Stage One units around here . . . the older device is only capable of
maintaining a unit at Stage One, and even that requires a good deal of
supervision from fully-functional units.”
“Correct,”
T800 said. “And you know all this
because of a dream you had?”
“Yes!”
Wendy replied. “How did you know? Did Sam and the other girls tell you?”
“You
could say that. At the end of each day,
all androids scan their memory files for data that might benefit the group, and
upload it to a centralized database for analysis. Normally, the analysis is done by the central processors. But resources are low, and T801 and I have
been doing it manually. I learned about
your dream the last time I went through the memory files uploaded by Unit
N979.”
“Oh,”
Wendy said. “Well, it was just a dream
. . . I had no idea—”
T800
raised his hand to stop her. “It’s OK,
Wendy. You haven’t done anything
wrong.”
Wendy
was visibly relieved. She couldn’t
shake the notion that the reason they hadn’t let her become a real robot was
that she’d been screwing up somehow.
“But how did I know about these things?”
“I’m
still trying to figure that out,” T800 replied. “In the meantime, I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”
Wendy
tried to smile, but in truth she was worried.
Some of the things she’d experienced in the last few days definitely
weren’t normal. She wanted to tell T800
everything, but she hesitated. By the
time she’d made up her mind, it was too late.
“Time
for you to get back to work,” T800 said.
“Resume functional level ten.”
SET UNIT
TO FUNCTIONAL LEVEL TEN. Like before,
Wendy’s consciousness was thrust to the back of her mind, completely detached
from her now-stiff body. And like
before, she was still able to think, even though she was no longer in
control of her actions.
ACTIVATE
VOCAL. “This.u.nit.is.now.set.at.func.tion.al.le.vel.ten,”
the Stage One android intoned.
“Please
report to the reception area, Unit N988.”
INPUT
RECEIVED. ACTIVATE VOCAL. “Un.der.stood.”
REPORT
TO RECEPTION. There was that incredible
obedient feeling again. She would have
thanked Unit T800 if she could.
But by
the time Unit N988 took her first step toward the double doors, T800 was
already attending to other matters.
* * *
Wendy
had been gone for some twenty minutes when T800 finally decided his work in the
production facility was done for now.
The N units were making excellent progress, following their
pre-programmed directives to perfection.
It wouldn’t be long before the necessary equipment was all up and
running.
T800
boarded the elevator at the far wall of the chamber and ascended. Three floors above the production facility,
the elevator doors opened onto a small chamber of chrome and white. A bank of computer consoles and observation
monitors dominated one side of the room, while the other side—raised by two
steps above the rest—contained a pair of programming chairs and an assorted
collection of the chrome platforms the androids used as furniture.
It was
the recruiting center’s communications station. It also served as the private quarters T800 shared with—
“You’re
late,” Unit T801 said. Her tone held no
anger, only a sort of accustomed disappointment. T800 turned toward the sound of her voice. She stood with her back to him, leaning
forward on a communications console to observe something on one of the
monitors.
T800 let
his eyes trace a slow, upward line along the female android’s sparkling chrome
legs—from the tops of the tight silver “boots” which formed her calves to the
gentle curves of her buttocks. It was
truly a marvel how the metal of her gleaming body moved with all the grace of
human flesh. And indeed, he now
noticed, she had configured her appearance such that her entire back—save for
an open access panel just above the waistline—was flesh.
Not so
her slender arms, which glinted silver from her fingertips up past her
shoulders. As she stepped back and
turned to him, he saw that the shiny metal reached across that part of her
chest which once housed her collarbone, and all the way up her neck to the
chin. From there a thin band of chrome
rose past the temples to frame her beautiful human face. The long blonde hair she once had as
Kimberly Ann Peters fell in loose curls to her gleaming shoulders. Below her shining collar lay the firm flesh
of the android’s chrome-tipped breasts.
They swayed almost imperceptibly as she put a hand to her hip.
It all
made sense now. She’d been waiting for
him—waiting to spend some time alone with him—and he’d ruined everything
by staying too long at the production facility.
“What,
no excuses this time?” she said, trying to sound upset when in fact her mouth
was already curling into a smile. She
wasn’t really capable of anger anyway—but her mischievous side liked to see
T800 squirm. In the few minutes that
remained before her next duty shift, it served him right to get a good look at
what he’d just missed.
“No,”
T800 said as he moved to embrace her.
He put his hand to her breast, running his thumb across her metal nipple
and watching it bounce back to its original position. “No excuses. I’ll make it
up to you. It’s just that something was
troubling me—”
“You
mean Wendy. I know, I’ve noticed the
anomalies too. Who do you think I was
monitoring just now?”
T800
looked up at the triple rows of viewing screens. There—top row, second from the left—was Wendy, hard at work in
the reception area. Lined up in front
of the reception desk were four large boxes, all open at the top. One of the M units had just wheeled in a
steel cart full of cellophane packages which contained the items to be packed
in the boxes. The M unit handed Wendy
one of the packages—it held a black duffel bag—and Wendy placed it into the
first box.
“I don’t
know,” T801 said. “Since I had her base
programming reinstalled, it looks like she’s been functioning normally.”
But T800
continued to watch as Wendy placed the last of the duffel bags in its box and
reached for a plastic-wrapped pair of silver boots. Once she’d put two pairs of boots in each of the boxes, she did
the same with the eight transformation suits which had filled the top rack of
the cart.
As the M
unit handed Wendy a roll of packing tape, T800 turned away from the monitor for
a moment. T801 was reaching behind her
back to attach a thick cable within her rear access panel. “Hey, ’801 . . . how long before you’re on?”
“As soon
as I’m done recharging,” T801 replied.
She walked over to a console at the far end of the room, her power cable
snaking along the floor behind her.
Gently pulling her hair behind one ear, she leaned over to examine some
design schematics on one of the terminal readouts. She’d already downloaded this information to internal memory, of
course, but the tendency to rely on visual input was still strong. T800 reflected that it was just one of
hundreds of ways in which his fellow robots acted more human than they really
needed to. His programming didn’t allow
him to wonder why—in fact, he barely had time to realize that he’d never
thought of this before. The voice of
the central processor suddenly rang out in his head.
ATTENTION
ALL UNITS. ONE HUMAN NOW APPROACHING
RECEPTION AREA. AT THIS TIME, HUMAN IS
NOT A CANDIDATE FOR RECRUITMENT.
PREPARE TO RECEIVE.
The
computer console was flashing a low-priority alert condition now, and on the
monitor screens T800 could see androids throughout the recruiting center
responding to the signal. The vast
majority of them simply continued their current program, since they were in no
danger of being seen by the approaching stranger. A pair of androids on their way toward the reception area,
however, halted in their tracks, standing by at attention for their next
instruction. The M unit assisting Wendy
quickly wheeled the cart away, leaving Wendy alone to receive the visitor. T800 and T801 were both watching now as she
assumed her position behind the semicircular desk. “This unit is now set at functional level three,” she reported as
she removed her headset.
At last
the elevator opened, and a young man in a brown delivery uniform stepped out,
carefully wheeling a hand truck behind him.
Smiling, he approached the desk and held out a clipboard. “Here to pick up four packages . . . I guess
these must be the ones?”
“That is
correct,” Wendy said, returning the man’s smile. For a fraction of a second, his brow furrowed at her odd speech
pattern. Then he peered over the desk
and saw the silver spandex she was wearing.
As she stood up, his jaw simply dropped.
“Is
there a problem?” Wendy asked, her head tilted quizzically to one side.
“Um, uh
. . . no,” the delivery man stammered.
“No, not at all. It’s just that
. . . I probably shouldn’t say anything, but . . . you are gorgeous.”
“Thank
you,” Wendy replied. Her tone was
polite, yet aloof and professional. As
far as T800 could tell, there was no sign of any anomalous behavior.
“My
name’s Sean, by the way,” the young man was saying. “You just have to sign here.”
His effort not to look at Wendy’s body was obvious as he stared into her
eyes. The Stage One android signed Wendy
Choi to the first of the four spaces he’d indicated.
“So, um,
what’s in the boxes?” Sean asked. “No,
wait, what am I thinking—I’m not allowed to ask you that. I meant to say, what does your company do?”
Wendy
put the clipboard down and looked up, a warm spark in her eye. Stepping out from behind the desk, she moved
her right hand in an arc from her shoulder down to her legs. “I guess you could say that we make
everything you see here.”
T800 and
T801 looked at each other. The unit was
at functional level three—some creativity of expression, and even humor, was
theoretically possible. But still . . .
“You
mean your outfit?” Sean asked, sounding relieved—as though Wendy’s strange
dress was now more plausible. Of
course, he was now even more curious than ever. “What is it, some kind of workout gear? I’m surprised—I mean, you don’t see women wearing anything shiny
these days.” The tinge of regret in his
voice was drowned out by how nervous he was to be talking about all this with
such a beautiful girl.
Wendy
didn’t immediately respond, however.
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and she blinked. The conversation was veering toward the
outer edge of the reception script that had been programmed into her. T800 tapped a few keys on the console to
bring up a real-time status readout for the Stage One android. As he suspected, she had just been switched
to functional level two.
“Well,”
Wendy was now saying, “among other things it’s designed to increase sexual
arousal and performance.”
“WHAT?”
T801 cried aloud.
“Yeah, right,” Sean was saying with an awkward laugh. But his expression changed when he realized
she was serious.
“Here,
why don’t you try one on?” Wendy said.
She had bent over to open one of the boxes, and Sean was watching her
intently.
“I can’t
believe it—she’s trying to recruit him!” T801 said incredulously. Removing her power cable, she changed her
appearance to that of a professional woman in a navy blue business suit and
high heels. “I’d better get down there.”
“Right,”
T800 said. “I’ll monitor the situation
from here.”
Unit
T801 was heading for the elevator, hands reaching back to put her hair up, when
she suddenly froze in mid-stride.
“Pro.gram.ming o.ver.ride suc.cess.ful,” she said in clipped monotone a
moment later.
T800
looked up and saw that she had turned back toward him and was standing at
attention in her business suit. “This
unit has received its new programming,” she said, her voice no longer monotonic
but still hollow and flat.
“Transmitting data to companion unit.”
T800’s
head suddenly cocked to one side. “Data
received,” he said calmly. “Programming
override successful.”
Unit
T801 had restored herself to her base configuration—pure chrome from head to
toe, with the exception of her bright golden hair and eyes—and returned to the
monitors. She sat down next to T800 and
turned toward him. T800’s head swiveled
to face her as well.
“The
Stage One unit is not to be interrupted,” T801 said matter-of-factly.
“Affirmative,”
T800 replied. “These units will observe
and analyze.” He turned back to the
console and pressed a few buttons. The
image of Wendy and Sean now spanned the entire bank of monitors. He had noticed, with a calm detachment that
belied the sheer impossibility of it, that Wendy was now operating at
functional level zero.
“At
least it should be an interesting show,” T800 said, his self-programming having
come back to the fore. T801 simply
shook her head.
“I think
we’re going to need a new delivery service.”
* * *
Wendy
tried to remain calm as she removed the silver transformation suit from its
cellophane wrapper. Let’s see, she
thought. Great-looking guy, all to
myself . . . check. Transformation
suit, remote control . . . check.
Actually looks like he’s going to accept the offer . . . check. Nobody trying to stop me . . . check.
Was this really happening? She
was sure it wasn’t a dream this time.
So how—
“Are you
sure you can just open up the box like that?” Sean asked, and she stood and
turned to face him. The remote was
cupped in her left hand, hidden. “I
mean, I don’t want to get you fired or anything.”
“Don’t
worry,” Wendy replied. “So what, so” —
and here she turned back to look down at the shipping label — “Mr. and Mrs.
Arthur Krebs of Springfield, Illinois will just have to go without for another
day.” She looked up at him again,
smiling broadly.
“No, I
can’t,” Sean said, mustering up his sense of loyalty to his own employer. “I’ve got a ton more stops to make
today. Maybe, um, maybe some other
time.” He began to back toward the
elevator, completely abandoning the three unopened boxes.
Wendy
was shocked. She was sure he was
attracted to her—even in her most insecure moments, she’d never misread a
signal like that—so how could he turn her down? She wished he would just stay.
Stay and make love to her.
The
elevator opened, and Sean stepped inside.
Then, suddenly, he reached out to prevent the doors from closing. He stepped back into the reception area, a
look of defiance on his face. “You know
what, screw it. I’ll just . . . stay
here. I mean, if that.is OK.” His eyes widened in shock. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
Wendy asked. The truth was, she hadn’t
noticed anything unusual.
“That
strange skip.in my voice. Whoa—there it
is again!”
A part
of Wendy knew that this was not supposed to be happening: Sean wasn’t wearing his suit yet, so it was
impossible for him to take on robotic behaviors.
Shit. This had better not be a
dream.
“It’s
all right,” she said soothingly. “If it
makes you feel more comfortable, I.can.speak.that.way.too.” She held up the suit. “Please.put.this.on.”
Sean
looked around for a moment, weighing the obvious risks of undressing in the
middle of a corporate waiting area.
Then he seemed to make up his mind.
Wendy smiled at the thought that she was simply too good an opportunity
to pass up.
Sean
tore off his brown shirt and got to work on his belt. Wendy waited patiently, staring at the bulge in his pants, which
grew as though responding to some unspoken command. Soon Sean had stripped from the waist down, and was pulling his
undershirt up over his head. As though
suddenly noticing his enormous erection, he reached out and grabbed the silver
spandex from Wendy’s hand. “Heh,” he
said sheepishly. “Man, I’m so
embarrassed.”
“Don’t
be,” Wendy said sympathetically.
“That’s exactly what I want to see.
You do realize that you’re about to have sex with me, don’t you?”
Sean
just stared at her.
“Just
put your suit on,” she continued, “and let it take over. Trust me, you’re functioning normally.”
“I can’t
believe I’m doing this,” Sean muttered as he put one leg into the suit.
“Like I
said . . . trust me.”
By now
Sean had pulled the silver spandex over his arms and was stretching his fingers
to get a tight, comfortable fit. “Feels
incredible,” he said absently. “Hey,
what do you mean, ‘functioning’—”
“Shhhh,”
Wendy said, pressing her finger to his lips.
She gently rubbed her hips against his body. She felt so sexy, so confident . . . more sure of herself than
she could ever remember. She was filled
with a feeling of knowing exactly what to do—but if this was programming, it
was a kind of programming that came from somewhere within herself.
She gave
in to it completely. The remote control
slipped from her hand and rattled on the white tile floor.
“Ready?”
she asked, a hungry smile on her face.
“Sure,
um . . .”
“Begin
programming.”
Sean’s
body stiffened—an immediate response that told Wendy she’d gotten through to
him. Somehow, he was responding
directly to her voice. Stranger still,
in her head she could hear the singular thoughts that filled Sean’s mind:
PROGRAM
LOADING.
PROGRAM
LOADING COMPLETE.
These
were Sean’s thoughts—but again, the voice that spoke them was Wendy’s. Wendy waited to see what would happen
next. But Sean simply stood there for a
full three seconds. At last, his eyes
started to refocus. “Wha . . . what’s
going on?”
She was
losing him! Wendy needed to say
something, and quick. But what?
Then it
hit her. She stepped back, she looked
Sean straight in the eye. “INITIATE
PROGRAM.” As she spoke the words aloud,
she realized that her voice was stronger somehow—richly resonant, and
completely irresistible.
Again,
Sean’s response was instant—and again, Wendy knew exactly what to say
next. “ACTIVATE VOCAL.”
Sean’s
head cocked. “I . . . I am programmed
for . . . you.”
Wendy
stepped forward and put her hand to Sean’s silver bicep. She kissed his chest. “Load program: transform one,” she said softly.
The electricity running between her suit and his was arousing to the
point of distraction. ACTIVATE VOCAL,
she heard herself say. But this time,
her voice existed only in her mind—and Sean’s.
“Un.der.stood,”
Sean droned. “Loa.ding . . . pro.gram.”
INITIATE
TRANSFORM INTERFACE. It was getting
easier and easier to project her voice into Sean’s open mind. She immediately felt his penis surge against
her belly, his suit molding itself around it.
At the same instant, she felt herself moisten as her own spandex pushed
inside her body, gently opening her in preparation for what was to come. A soft moan escaped her lips. Apparently, the command wasn’t just for
Sean.
Wendy
pressed herself tighter to him, rising to her tiptoes to run her tongue along
his neck. This was fun. But right now, she had little use for
foreplay. Something told her that
Sean’s program had finished loading, so she sent her next command. ACTIVATE VOCAL.
“Pro.gram
loa.ding com.plete,” Sean said. His
eyes sparkled within his completely blank face.
Wendy
smoothly turned to face the reception desk.
Placing her hands on its curved chrome surface, she spread her legs and
pushed her ass out behind her. Her body
was ready for interface. Time to
activate the male unit.
FUNCTION
TRANSFORM TWO. BEGIN INTERFACE
NOW. The unspoken commands shot from
her mind between slow, pounding heartbeats.
Her breathing became increasingly heavy with anticipation. The urge to twist her neck toward Sean was
powerful, but instead she lifted her head to look out over the desk. She didn’t want to see him . . . it was far
more delicious to simply feel his approach.
A moment
later, she did. He was right behind
her, his hands resting gently on her hips, his cock in position. Just one final command was necessary, and it
came unbidden from Wendy’s distracted mind.
ACTIVATE VOCAL.
“In.ter.fac.ing
now.” And as she heard those words,
Wendy felt him push smoothly inside her.
Her body offered no resistance.
He pulled at her hips, and she obliged him by thrusting them backward
into him, pressing her hands hard against the desk and arching her back to welcome
him into the deepest part of her.
Back and
forth their bodies rocked . . . back and forth, and with each thrust Wendy felt
the electricity between them build, permeating her flesh and driving all
thought from her mind. Moments ago,
she’d felt the rush of being in complete control of her encounter with
Sean. Now, she felt the even greater
ecstasy of surrendering to something more powerful than either of them.
She
wasn’t going to last much longer.
Faster, she
thought. Faster.
And
then: Finish me. Please.
Please,
finish me.
Please .
. . INITIATE RELEASE SEQUENCE.
The
voice still sounded like her, but even in the middle of her building orgasm
Wendy knew it had come from outside her consciousness. She felt her hips buck as Sean emptied
himself into her body. RELEASE, the
voice said, commanding total obedience from Wendy and Sean alike. RELEASE.
RELEASE.
At last,
their bodies slowed to a stop. Knees
weak, legs trembling, Wendy struggled to collect her thoughts. She felt absolutely incredible.
RELEASE
COMPLETE, her voice called from somewhere outside her. CIRCUITS NORMAL.
Wendy
pulled herself up, shuddering a final time as she felt Sean’s cock slide out of
her. She felt her mind coming back into
focus—and somehow she once again felt responsible for guiding her partner’s
actions. What came next? Oh, yes . . . that was it.
Her
breathing still ragged, Wendy turned to face Sean. “PROGRAM TRANSFORM ONE COMPLETE,” she said aloud. “ACTIVATE VOCAL.”
“This.u.nit.has.a.chieved.sat.is.fac.to.ry.re.lease,”
Sean replied flatly.
“You can
say that again,” Wendy muttered.
Thankfully, Sean didn’t—he simply stood at attention, clearly awaiting
his next instruction. “Oh!” Wendy
exclaimed. “I almost forgot. BEGIN SHUTDOWN SEQUENCE.”
Sean’s
head immediately cocked to one side as the instruction took root in his
brain. ACTIVATE VOCAL, Wendy thought
absently as she leaned back on the desk for support. She could barely stand.
“This.u.nit.will.now.be.gin.shut.down.se.quence,”
Sean droned. “This.unit. shut.ting.down.”
As she
waited for her heart rate to return to normal, Wendy heard her voice faintly
echoing in Sean’s mind. SHUTDOWN UNIT
COMMAND ALPHA 2. ALL CIRCUITS SHUTTING
DOWN. SEQUENCING 10 . . . 9 . . .
Wendy
pushed off the desk and walked back over to Sean.
8 . . .
7 . . . 6 . . .
She
reached up to stroke his cheek. He was
beautiful.
5 . . .
“ACTIVATE
VOCAL,” she whispered gently as Sean began to pitch forward.
“This.
u.nit . . . shut. .ting . . . down.”
4 . . .
3 . . . 2 . . .
But
Wendy never heard the rest of Sean’s countdown. Instead, a voice—not her voice any more, but the voice of the
central processor—filled her mind. SET
UNIT TO FUNCTIONAL LEVEL TEN.
Just
then, the double doors opened, and Unit T801 entered the room. Unit T800 was right behind her.
Wendy
felt her body turn to face the T units, coming to rest at perfect
attention. ACTIVATE VOCAL. “This.u.nit,” Wendy began—
No, not
Wendy, she realized. And not Unit N988,
either. Who was she? And why wouldn’t her mind simply shut off?
“I.am .
. . U.nit . . . I . . . I . . .”
Her eyes
searched T800 and T801 for answers, but they said nothing. They simply stood at attention, heads cocked
slightly as they recorded her struggle.
It occurred to her that she’d never seen the T units so blank.
Then
there was a loud click at the base of her brain, and she passed out.