“It must be difficult for you, even with Logan.”
She didn’t confirm his suspicion, but she didn’t have to. He could see it in her body language that he was right, and that she felt ashamed of it.
“I’m fine.” With a huff, she shoved her hair back and climbed out of the bed, ignoring him as she brushed past.
He sat alone in the room for a while, but eventually the strange curiosity that surrounded her compelled him to follow. He found her curled up on her side on the couch, staring blankly at the TV as two women with ice-blond curls pointed their polished nails at one another and shouted.
She startled when he sat down on the end of the couch near her feet.
“What are you doing?” she asked, scrambling away.
“Sitting with you.”
“Why?”
“You are distressed. I am compelled to soothe you.”
She frowned at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be just a… a sex doll? Why are you so concerned about my feelings?”
“The base price for my model type starts at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he told her. “Do you think people would pay such a premium for a doll that can do nothing but have sex?”
She scratched behind her ear, studying him. “Honestly… yeah.”
He blinked. “Perhaps you’re correct. In any event, I am not so limited in my functions. One of the services I am meant to provide is companionship.”
That was true in the strictest sense—hewasmeant to provide companionship to his primary user… which Ophelia was not. However, his primary directive was still to pleasure her sexually, which he could not do without consent, and her behavior suggested she would require an emotional attachment and sense of security to consent to sex. Ergo, he was still technically operating within his parameters by staying in close proximity to her and attempting to engage in conversation.
Satisfied he was not malfunctioning, he returned his focus to the woman.
“I don’t know if that’s sweet or sad,” she murmured.
He shrugged.
Her gaze drifted toward the wall of windows that led out to the balcony and the city view beyond. “He’s going to break up with me.”
“Because you won’t allow me to pleasure you sexually?”
She looked back at him with a grim expression, the hollows under her eyes filled with deep shadows. “Yes.”
“You are sexually incompatible.”
She threaded her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face in a severe way that looked painful. Her sclera turned bloodshot as tears welled in her eyes.
“We’ve been together for two years,” she said, a tear spilling over her cheek. “I can’t believe I never noticed that he… But so many things make sense now.”
She shook her head, dropping her hands. Her hair fell back over her shoulders, snarled from her fingers. “I can’t believe I’m talking to a sex robot about my feelings.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath before meeting his gaze. “Do you really think he’s going to decommission you?”
“I do not know.”
Her expression wilted further. “I don’t want you to die because of me.”
“I cannot die. I am not alive.”
She huffed, turning her attention back to the TV. Apparently done with the conversation, she dragged an overstuffed pillow into her lap and rested her head against the low arm of the couch, blankly observing as a mediator of some kind attempted to get the two arguing women to speak calmly. He was having no success; one of the women lunged for the other, grabbing a fistful of hair and dragging her to the ground as the camera panned out. Ophelia had no reaction to the violence.
He watched her as her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing evened out. Her grip on the pillow never loosened. He found the comforter from the night before on a chair across the room and brought it back to her, draping it over her tense form and tucking it in around her chin. Then he sat down beside her once more and watched her sleep.
Her distress was vaguely bothersome to him, doubtless some facet of his programming that aimed to keep the humans around him contented. She shifted, stretching to fill the couch in her sleep, and her feet wound up in his lap. He took one in his hand and began to massage the tension out of it, finding satisfaction in the way she sighed in her sleep at his touch.
