Do you have a Cyborg fetish?
Clara stopped.What the?
She wasn't sure if what she was feeling was confusion, concern, or both. She wiped her finger on the side of her jeans as if it needed to be cleaned.
Do I have a Cyborg fetish?She had seen Cyborg-inspired porn on occasion, she had even thought that some of the newer companion androids were attractive. Clara's pulse thrummed every time she saw an image of the Cyborg heroes in the tabloids.
But it was because they were men, she told herself.Who doesn't like good-looking men?She lifted her finger to answer the question but something moved in her periphery.
Clara froze.
Her limbs locked and her stomach dropped. A huge dog stood five yards away from her.Not a dog.She swallowed. A huge mechanical, robot beast, one she had never seen the likes of before. It’s head reached her waist, it’s metal ears higher still. The dog’s mere size suggested that it could tear out her neck with one giant bite.
Nothing about it looked weak. It was menacing.I could ride its back and it probably wouldn’t notice me... My feet wouldn’t even touch the ground.
She wasn’t small, standard height maybe, but she liked to describe herself as rounded to perfection in all the right places. But in comparison to the dog, she felt like a brittle-boned sprite, unable to go outside during a windstorm, now faced with an oversized metal beast because she didn’t want to be blown away.
Clara forgot all about the questions. Her gaze met the canine's. Its dark eyes were hard and...Annoyed?As if she were in its way. She held its gaze, unwavering, despite her nerves, feeling somehow that she had to establish some sort of dominance, regardless of the fear that coursed through her.
He knows I'm afraid.
“Beware of dog,”she whispered to herself.
The canine remained unmoving and showed no aggression toward her. It didn't stop her life from flashing before her, knowing that the robotic creature could rip her to shreds and eat her whole if it chose to do so. She canted her head and the dog canted its head back. The corner of her lips lifted into a weak smile.
She was getting somewhere. Her unease waned.
“Is the sign out front... for you?” Clara put her palms out to show the beast she meant no harm.
She took a slow step toward it. It barked. Her smile lifted further. She continued to approach the dog until she was before it and on her knees. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face leaving a cold path behind from the frigid room temperature.
“You're not so scary, are you?” She kept her hand out for it to sniff her. And in a moment of intelligence, it leaned forward, pressed its snout into her palm, and then backed up.
“You're not scary at all, no you're not,” she cooed. Clara loved dogs, always had and always would. Even one created clearly as a weaponized machine couldn't stop the endearment in her voice.
“What's your name?”
It didn’t respond.
“You don't speak?” Clara wondered if it had the intelligence of an android. It still did nothing.
“Can I pet you?”
It barked and its eyes flashed again with dark light. She decided to read that as ayes. Clara reached out to rub her fingers against the metal plating below its jaw and when it didn’t attack her, she pet its chest between.
“You're like a normal dog, aren’t you? I'm a friend, yes I am. Hopefully, I don't have to be wary of you and that that sign outside is for bad people,” she continued to coo as her fingers slid across the synthetic padding between its metal plates. “We don't like bad guys, do we? No we don't. I don't like bad guys either. But with a majestic dog like you around, I don't think I’d have to worry about them.”
Its eyes kept flickering and she eventually moved away. No one else had arrived and the screen with its questions had vanished. She turned back toward the dog.
“Do you know what I'm supposed to do now?” The dog didn’t respond. Clara stepped further away, swallowing, but as she did, the beast turned on its heel and disappeared around the corner and into the facility.
Does he want me to follow it? Him? Her?
She glanced around the quiet space again and shrugged before she trailed after the canine. It was waiting for her and, when she approached, quietly led her into an office at the end of the hall. She entered the equally quiet, equally cold room and sat in an empty seat on the other side of a large white steel and wood desk. When Clara looked back at the dog, she found it had disappeared.
She settled her bag onto her lap, feeling a modicum of safety return, as though the bag were a shield. Her eyes fell on the giant picture of her that was projected onto the wall.
Someone was here.Someone had to have opened up her files. Her fingers threaded together as her unease gradually returned. She was completely out of her element and hated looking at the giant image of herself.
