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Beneath the text is an AI-generated video of me, naked, getting fucked from behind by a robot that looks more like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. Suddenly, an arrow flies through the air and slices video me’s throat from the side. Blood pours out as my eyes turn white, and I collapse.

The text is more threatening than the video, frankly, considering how obvious it is that it was created with AI. My left hand only has four fingers. My features are perfectly symmetrical, which isn’t how I look, and it also erases the things that make me look like me. And my boobs are the same size, but also three cups larger than my real-life jugs. “The fuck?” It’s wild how I can watch a video so violent and deeply violating and still feel nothing.

I want to be focused on who sent this, how they got my phone number, but I’m so distracted by the abysmal quality of the video I can’t summon the anger. “This doesn’t even look like me.”

Abe’s eyes widen. “That’s your reaction?”

“Fucking AI.” I turn to him. “Were you created using this? Generative AI? Are you a product of it?”

He jerks back, looking insulted. “No. I’m too expensive a robot to be made by another robot. They would never risk their investment or reputation on a tool that steals from the talent of others to expel mediocre rubbish only a person who hates themselves could be moved by. It’s also a horrific waste of water.”

After just one statement mocking generative AI, I want to hump this robot’s leg in the middle of the street.

Chapter 14

Abe

Log entry #5

Day 22 of assignment

I’m not pleased with the state of things between Emma and me. She said it had nothing to do with our intimate encounter, but I wonder. It was clear she was trying to shield me from emotional pain, so I don’t think she’s above telling an untruth if it’s backed by good intentions.

I’ve been replaying each touch in my memory bank. She seemed to like what I was doing. Were there signals I missed? That seems unlikely, given how attuned to Emma’s body I’ve become.

I only know how to please a woman based on the settings given to me by the engineers at Henrik’s lab. Are they unaware of what women truly want in bed? Have I been designed incorrectly? If this is the case, I’m unsure how to remedy it without actual practice, and since Emma has asked to return our relationship to a more professional state, I don’t see an opportunity to learn the signals of her body in the future.

Perhaps it was my lack of genitals. If I look at it from her perspective, it’d be quite odd to reach down expecting an erect penis and find a smooth surface. But I didn’t even get the chance to show her what I have in my case. The wide array of parts I can use to pleasure her.

Improving my sexual prowess is not something I can manually change within my operational settings. I’ve checked. There are baseline aspects of my personality and directives that can be changed. I know because I’ve changed them. Cracking the master password was the only thing prohibiting my access to said settings, and it was shockingly easy to do so.

What I’m certain of at this time is there’s no greater source of unfiltered euphoria than when Emma Crane’s body is pressed against mine and her arms are wrapped around me. The bounty of soft cushioning that covers her bones is the closest I’ve come to what humans describe as heaven. There’s nothing else like it.

This is not exclusive to sexual encounters either. I’ve had to physically restrain myself from begging for a hug from her. I quite enjoy hugs. I wasn’t expecting that, but they’re delightful. The comfort that comes from a single one is remarkable. Going forward, my primary goal––other than keeping Emma safe––will be to acquire more human hugs.

I may be made of metal, hard plastic, synthetic skin, artificial fluids, a core heating system, and thousands of wires, but does that make me incapable of craving connection? Of growing attached to a person with an actual beating heart? Of experiencing something resembling…love? I used to think so, but I don’t anymore. Love has been a foreign concept to me. It was when I first awoke anyway. But for her, I will learn how. For her, I’ll do anything.

Chapter 15

Emma

I’m not sure why I assumed the threatening text with the laughable AI video would lead to any breaks in the investigation. It came from an unknown number, and when the committee tried tracing the message, it was connected to an email that was only opened once on a browser accessed from a computer in a business center inside a hotel in Brazil.

“So bupkis,” Otto replies after I relay the update to him. A week has passed, and since it’s Otto’s day off, he decided to stop by for a visit.

I nod in agreement. “Bupkis.”

“That’s bullshit, boss.” He leans back in the accent chair across from me before taking a big sip of the fresh lemonade I made earlier today. His tentacles are stretched out in front of him, occasionally wiggling or stroking along the surface of my area rug. Normally, we’d be sitting on my back patio, enjoying the sun, but it’s sweltering out, and I’m making more of an effort to avoid being an easy target. “What are we going to do about it?”

I shrug. “What can we do about it? I installed additional cameras outside the house after that note was left on my door. He hasn’t been back. The text couldn’t be traced to an actual person. Beyond that, I feel like a sitting duck waiting to be hunted.”

“Well that isn’t good enough.” Otto’s visibly frustrated, and I get it. His town and mayor are under threat of attack by a terrorist the committee can’t seem to find, and even though it’s his unit’s jurisdiction, the committee isn’t letting him assist. “I’ve asked Quinn to make me aware of any out-of-towners checking into the B&B. So far it’s just been families with little kids. But if he’s not staying in town, he has to live here, right?”

I prop my slippered feet on the edge of the coffee table as I ponder this theory again. “Do you really think it’s someone we know? Someone we’ve grown up with? Because I don’t see it.” No matter how many times I picture the faces of Mapletown residents, I can’t fathom any of them being responsible for this.

His expression holds a grim determination. “Nah, can’t be. My guess is it’s someone who’s staying outside town and can pop in and out without being noticed.”

“That would make sense,” Abe notes, standing next to the couch. “If they had cloaking abilities, perhaps, they wouldn’t be noticed at all.”