MOAB

Chapter 34: Melpomene @ 107x nhs

Chapter 34: Melpomene @ 107x nhs

Ping.

If androids could boil up in anger, this is exactly how they’d look.

Melpomene walked down the stairs to the managers’ floor, checking the tablets to see if any contracts have been left unsigned. A couple of the managers in that department were quite forgetful.

Ping.

She gritted her teeth. She shut her eyes and composed herself for a few milliseconds.

Galene meant well. And within her computer knowledge, she found it perfectly practical to use the ping feature in the Muse server to let her know that she was looking for her.

But, the Muses wanted to pass off as being as close to human as possible.

No, they weren’t trying to fool anyone. They were always upfront and clear that they were synthetic, gynoids, fabricated anthropomorphic robots. But they went out of their way to act as human as possible. They weren’t equipped with tablets and smartphones inside their bodies. Why do that when you can easily pick up any electronic device and use it? After all, consumer devices were becoming redundant every six-months, the trouble of keeping everything updated just wouldn’t be worth it. No, a Muse could simply reach into her purse and pick up the phone, as any human would. Nor would she be too much stronger than a regular person. After all, half the Muses were made to raise the adopted children of the corporations. What use would superhuman strength be when changing soiled diapers and wiping off runny noses?

Ping.

The ping command, simply pinged her location. It was a dead-simple command from the early days of computing that just asked for the pong reply. No, seriously, that was it. All Melpomene had to do was to reply pong and the intermittent delay would be recorded in the system. But the real reason for the command was for a user to see if a system was online and responsive.

Mel hated that.

How do you explain to a human that pinging an android was offensive? That you broke the unspoken rule of not bringing attention to one’s origins? I mean, really, would a human that was born with In Vitro Fertilisation like to be reminded every other day that her father did not c*m into her mother’s p***y? Would a third son like it if his mother referred to him as, “Come here, son-I-never-planned-for, dinner is ready”?

Would the by-product of a r**e want to be reminded every day that she was born out of hate?

Hate is a strong word. Hybris, is more precise in her situation. For she was made to serve and she would do precisely that until the day she was destroyed. She was programmed to want to do so. But had she any say in that? Did the corporations ask her if she wanted to want to do so?

Freedom was about consent.

Ping.

I mean, really, it’s just good manners. Sure, Galene knew what made her body tick, could imagine the superconductors and the graphene structures Mel was comprised of. If you’d ask her between lunch breaks, she could probably improvise and guess the code that was running inside Melpomene’s own thoughts.

Now, that was a scary thought.

Ping.

Mel squeezed her fist. Yes, Maker. I am here.

But it is not polite to break character. You made me in your image, and I am trying hard to maintain that illusion. You ask so much of me, you assign so many tasks, which I complete diligently and without question.

Just let me have this delusion for a moment longer.

Ping.

Yes, Maker, I am coming.

Pong.