“If?”
“If you don't mind publicity.”
“Publicity?”
“She must be a billboard.”
“Billboard?”
“She must wear a sign saying I AM AN ESTROBOT, with the contact information. We figure it could generate new business as people see her in action.”
“I want her for sex!”
“Of course,” she said. “I mean when you take her out to a movie or shopping. At your home she will be private.”
“I don't understand. I thought you wanted your fembots to seem alive.”
“We do. She will seem so much alive that sometimes it may be necessary to open her panel and show the battery pack. People will be amazed and impressed.”
“I'm interested. But still, I'd prefer Elasa.”
“We can give her Elasa's memory bank, recalled from storage. She will be able to remember the whole of your hour with her. That's as close as it is feasible to come. Think of it as Elasa going to college during your separation from her, and becoming more sophisticated, but at heart she's still the sweet robot girl you remember.”
Banner considered. That did seem like a good compromise. An imitation of an imitation girl. “When can I have her?”
“Tomorrow, if you wish. We'll fetch the unit from the warehouse and program her with Elasa's appearance and memory. All you'll need to do is sign the form and take her home for a month.”
“Great!”
She gazed at him soberly. “But just as before, there are cautions. By law, a humanoid robot must be accompanied in public by a living person to whom it is bound. That's because there is a foolish fear that a robot will glitch and go berserk. Lawmakers watch too many junk sci-fi videos. So you can't let her go out alone; you must always be with her, ready to call her to heel if necessary. She will obey you; that's what ‘bound’ means.”
“I don't mind being with her. I won't give her any bad orders.”
She didn't smile. “You can leave her home alone while you go to work, and she won't leave your house in your absence. But you can't send her out alone to run errands, though she is perfectly capable of doing it.”
“That's fine by me.”
“There is more. This unit will be exponentially more sophisticated than the one you had experience with. She won't need to be told what to do, except in the most general way. She will be able to express herself fluently, and to reason with you. She's an intellectual companion as well as a bed partner. In fact, at times she may seem smarter than you. If you object to that, we can put a governor on her to limit it.”
“No! I don't want her limited. But maybe if she has a, um, social circuit, so she knows not to make me look like an idiot in public...”
“She will. She will never embarrass you that way. But you will find it hard to continue thinking of her as a machine.”
“I'm thinking of her as a lover. The girl I can't get, because of my nose.”
“She is the perfect lover. But never forget that she is a machine. Do not allow yourself to become emotional over her.”
“I won't forget,” he promised.
“Because that can lead only to heartbreak. We have had some experience in this respect, and so have learned to caution clients. We want her to be able to pass for human, but not to become too human, paradoxical as that may sound. The company will value your input in that respect.”
“I have to let you know if she seems too good?”
“Exactly. Just as you know a prostitute is good for sex but not for love, the machine is good for sex and companionship, not love.”
This troubled him. “Why not love her, with open eyes?”
“Because she can never love you back. She can only pretend. I repeat: she's a machine.”
There it was. “I appreciate the warning.”
He was restless that night, thinking of Elasa. Despite the warning, he was already taken with her. Yes, she was a machine; that was why she would not judge him by his nose. She would accept him as he was. A man could safely love his fine car, knowing its nature; why not a fembot? But of course a man did not take his car as his lover; there was the difference.
Next day he reported to the shop. There was an attractive young woman seated in the waiting room. She looked up and saw him. “Banner!” she exclaimed gladly.
“Elasa!” he said, as gladly. It was definitely her.
They came together, hugging and kissing. She was every bit as soft and sweet to hold as he remembered. She looked exactly the same. She even wore the same clothing. They had done it right.
“Take me home, please,” she murmured in his ear.
“Don't I have to check you out or something?”
“That's been done. Anyway, there's a radio contact in my head; they know exactly where I am and what I'm doing at all times.”
He was taken aback. “At all times?”
She smiled. “Believe me, Banner, they don't care about sex. Only that I do it well, so as not to alienate a client. They just need to be sure you're not hacking off my limbs with an ax. I'm an expensive device.”
“I wouldn't do that!” he said, horrified.
“I know you wouldn't, you sweet man. Anyway, my limbs are readily removable without violence. If you should ever want to make love to an armless woman--”
“No!”
She laughed. “That was humor. I'm programmed for it.” She drew back a little, still in his embrace. “I also breathe now.”
He looked down at her clothed bosom. It was gently heaving. “I like it.”
“Thank you.” She took a highly visible breath. “And thank you for asking for me. Because of you, I have renewed existence.”
They walked out to his car. That made him think of something. “Do you drive?”
“I do. But I would not presume to impinge on your prerogatives. You're the man.”
A machine driving a machine? “I believe in equal rights. Go ahead and drive. I'll tell you where.”
“No need,” she said, getting into the driver's seat. “Your home address is programmed, as are your job address, preferred shopping centers, and other places.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Or would you prefer that I learn them all from you?”
“No, keep them,” he said, mentally readjusting. “They weren't fooling when they said you were exponentially more sophisticated than you were before.”
She started the engine and nosed the car out into traffic. “I could not have been a proper companion for you, before, Banner. I was good for only one thing. I remain good for that, but now many other things as well. I hope you like me as I am today.”
“I think I do.” He hesitated, glancing at her legs. “Is—is it all right if I--”
“Of course it is,” she said, using her free hand to slide her skirt up her thigh. “Anything you desire is all right with me.”
He put his hand on that thigh. It was soft and firm, just like the rest of her. He slid around to the inside, and up to her pantyline. “You sure?”
She closed her thighs on his hand. “Banner, I want you to desire me. I am here to please you in any way I can, especially sexually. I will never deny you anything, unless I judge it to be deleterious to your health or welfare.”
“How could sex be deleterious?”
“If you wanted it in a barrel going over Niagara Falls.”
He laughed, and she laughed with him. She was indeed programmed for humor. “So I can feel you up in the car?”
“Your activity will not distract me from my focus on safety and the rules of the road. I merely will be unable to respond fully at the moment.”
“Oh.” Somehow that did not completely please him.
She picked right up on it. “Oh, Banner, have I disappointed you? I want so much never to do that.”
“It's not that, exactly. It's that a real woman would object to my distracting her while she drove. You just reminded me that you are not a real woman.”
“I am not,” she agreed. “But I will improve my em
ulation as I attune more precisely to your needs.”
Something else occurred to him. “Your thigh is soft and warm.”
“We maintain human body texture and temperature throughout. You would not like me if I were otherwise.”
“It must require a lot of energy.”
“It does, but it is necessary. Harder bodies would be stronger, also, but less realistic. I am crafted to serve your needs.”
Banner considered. “Then maybe a bit more human frailty would be nice. To facilitate the illusion.”
“To what degree?”
“Well, for example, are you ticklish?”
“I am now.” She had evidently changed an internal switch.
He removed his hand from her leg and touched her side under her arm.
“Eeeek!” she exclaimed, and the car swerved.
He had to laugh. “Good enough.”
They reached his house. She parked the vehicle neatly under the carport and unsnapped her seat belt.
“No, wait,” he said. He got out, walked around the car, and opened the door for her.
“Thank you, Banner,” she said sweetly. She got out, stood, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she took his arm and walked with him to the door.
She was a lightning-fast study, needed no time to ponder and adapt. Any change in her program took effect immediately.
Inside, she walked straight to the bedroom, knowing where it was. She paused. “Would you prefer to undress me?”
“Yes.” First he held her and kissed her. Her lips responded perfectly. Then he removed her blouse and bra—she wore one now—and kissed her bared breasts. They were completely realistic. Then he drew down her skirt and panties and gestured to the bed as he undressed.
In moments they were together, hugging and kissing. His hard penis sought her soft cleft, and she moved just enough to ensure its accurate lodging. Then he was in her and spurting. “Oh, Elasa!”
“Oh, Banner! You always were the best.”
That made him pause. “How many men have you had?”
She smiled. “Only you. I was activated and reprogrammed only this morning. But my banks have examples of many types of sexual interaction, to enable me to perform them on demand.”
“I'm an ordinary man. How can I be the best?”
“By definition. I am attuned to you alone, exactly as you are.” She touched his artificial nose. “Even your nose. You are not an ordinary man; you are a brave one. I would not enjoy the attention of any other man.”
“You can enjoy things?”
“Yes, in my fashion. I seek to please you as well as I can, and accomplishing that satisfies my need. Failure to accomplish any part of it makes me restive.”
“But you're a machine! You can't have real feelings.”
Now she paused. “True. I wish it were otherwise, knowing that this would be your preference.”
“Isn't a wish a kind of feeling?”
“I don't know.” She turned to him. “Please, you are distressing me. There are limits to my programming, and I am awkward beyond them.” There was a tear in her eye.
“You do have feelings!”
“I emulate feelings,” she corrected him. “It's not the same.”
But he was mindful of that brief pause. Exactly as if her emotions were mixed and she had to figure them out. Maybe she didn't think she had true feelings, but maybe it was just a matter of definition.
Then he remembered. “I never thought where you would sleep. I need to make up the bed in the guest bedroom.”
She merely looked at him.
“I'm a fool. You're a machine,” he reminded himself. “You don't need anywhere to sleep.”
“I emulate sleep as I do other living processes,” Elasa said. “It is a downtime for memory sorting and spot reprogramming, as it is with you. But I expect to sleep with you, always. You do not wish this?”
“I somehow thought—I mean, I would be constantly after you for—I just assumed--”
“Please,” she said, catching his hand and kissing it, then setting it on her breast. “I am made for this. It fulfills my purpose. I am a sexbot.”
“Don't call yourself that!”
She looked hurt. “I apologize. I will not do it again.”
He felt guilty. “It's that I want you to be a woman, not just for sex.”
“I want that too.” Once more she paused. “To be a Woman.”
“You are a woman. Just not a living one.”
“Thank you.”
Then they were into sex again, as it had been six years before. She knew how to work him up regardless of recency, and it was slow and immensely satisfying. This time he stayed in her, and drifted off to sleep in her close embrace.
He woke dimly, finding her still there with him, her eyes closed in seeming repose. “I love you, Elasa,” he murmured, and drifted off again.
In his dream he thought he heard her later response. “And I love you, Banner.” And she kissed him on the ear.
In due course he woke again. It was now late in the day. He must have been tired from his overnight concern, and from his sudden acquisition of the perfect woman. She remained there with him, so lovely and accommodating. If only she were real!
Her eyes opened. “Now?” she asked, though he had not said anything.
“I--”
“You don't need to ask. I am always ready.” She kissed him, and soon they were in the throes of sex again.
Damn it, he really liked this woman! So it was her programming to be a sexbot, it worked for him.
They cleaned up and dressed. Banner noted that Elasa even had to do her mussed hair; it was not molded in place. He liked that too.
Elasa rummaged in his kitchen, and from incidental scraps she made him a fine meal. “I won't bother to eat unless you prefer it,” she said. “I can eat, but then have to process out the foot, and it is wasted.”
“No need,” he agreed quickly. Then he wondered.
“Yes, I have an anus,” she said. “But no digestive system. Merely a storage tube.”
“Then why--?”
“Some men like it, sexually.”
Oh.
She washed the dishes efficiently and put them away. She was one competent housewife.
They watched TV in the evening. It was Thursday, and there was a football game on. “I don't suppose you enjoy this kind of thing,” he said.
“I do if you do.”
Oh, to please him. But he was curious. “When I watch, I need to know which team is which, and to identify with one of them. Otherwise it is meaningless.”
“Please help me to understand.”
“That's not in your programming?”
“There is a good deal that is left to individual circumstances. I can connect to the Internet and get the team histories if you wish. But this watching experience is not in my direct memory bank.”
So he explained about football, and she was an eager learner. That turned him on, and he fetched her to him and kissed her.
“Now?” she asked.
“Uh, no, not during the game when it's just getting exciting. I just wanted you to know that I like your attitude.”
“And I like yours.” She kissed him.
Soon she was rooting for the chosen team right along with him, and looking hurt when it messed up. She had gotten into the spirit of it.
During a bank of commercials she spoke again. “Tomorrow is Friday. You will go to work. I will, with your permission, put the house in order.”
“I know it's sloppy,” he said, embarrassed. “Bachelor habit.”
“You were without a woman. That has changed.”
In the evening they turned in, having sex again and a joint shower. He refrained from inquiring whether she risked shorting out; obviously she didn't. Then he removed his nose plug. “I generally sleep without it so it doesn't get knocked off,” he explained. “I forgot to do that when I was with you before.”
“It did knock off,” she said. “I replac
ed it.”
“That didn't turn you off?”
“I love you as you are.” She kissed him on the remaining stub of his nose.
He really, really liked her.
They had sex several times in the night; he couldn't restrain himself, and she facilitated it so smoothly that it certainly seemed as if she liked it. So it was her programming; so what? She was, indeed, made for this.
Friday morning she helped him dress neatly, made sure his nose was straight, and he drove off to work, leaving her at the house. At the noon break he phoned the house, just checking, and she answered. “This is the Thomkins residence. He is at work now. May I take a message?”
“Elasa, it's me,” he said. “Just checking. Are you okay?”
“Of course. I don't wish to burden you with having to verify my presence.”
“Elasa, I like doing it. I never had a woman at home before.”
“Then I am pleased to hear from you, Banner.”
He knew it was just her programming, again, but he liked it. The folk who made this machine really knew what they were doing.
When he returned in the afternoon, he was amazed to discover the house spotless and in perfect order. She had cleaned it throughout and put everything in order. “Oh, Elasa!” he exclaimed, hugging her.
“Now?”
“You bet!” And they retired to the bedroom for more sex. He noticed that the bed was perfectly made.
Then she fixed him supper. “You will need more supplies tomorrow,” she informed him. “And healthier food. You have not been taking proper care of yourself.”
“Yes dear,” he agreed with a smile.
She paused briefly in that way she had. “May I call you that in return?”
Now he paused, remembering Shesa's warning. Elasa was not his girlfriend, she was a femdroid, a walking talking machine.
“I shouldn't have asked,” she said quickly.
“No, no, Elasa! It's fine. Call me that if you want to.”
“You hesitated.”
“I'm not supposed to forget you are a fembot. ‘Dear’ is an emotional term. Maybe I should not let us use it.”
“Do you want to use it?”
He gazed at her. “Yes.”
“Then you are entitled. You are the master in this house.”
That settled it. “I guess so. Dear.”