I AM A GIRL CYOBORG PET Read online

  "I don't know. I mean they still need blood," said Kayla.

  "Yes well they have us for that," pointed out Joe.

  "Won't they need people to help organise and train the e-Slaves? You know, people like the professors?"

  "So you think they won't get machines like HAL to do it eventually?" I guessed.1

  "Why are you asking me? I don't know the answers. I'm a e-Slave. I'm a e-Slave like you. Go us!" said Kayla, half heartedly holding a fist in the air.3

  "Maybe the choice between being a collaborator or being on the losing side simply made them not do the noble thing," said Joe.

  "What he said," said Kayla walking off.

  "All hail the robot overlords," we said as she walked off, wiping her eyes. I must have been in a funny mood because all I could think was it was good that this makeup, the robots forced onto us, didn't run. Still, as human slaves go, no-run makeup was an absolute must. We sat in silence and after a while I broke it.

  "So, Kayla is on for having co-labs as owners, you A.I.'s and I'm leaning towards Cyborgs..." I said.

  "Any reason?"

  "It could have all the advantages of A.I.s and humans combined," I said.

  "Or all the disadvantages of A.I.s and all the disadvantages of humans!" said Joe.

  "Possibly," I conceded.

  "I think I'm going to see what's up with Kayla," said Joe, getting up. As he walked off, he shifted his weight, "My shoulders are level, you misaligned lump of silicon stupidity," he said.

  Chapter 18/Testing

  Strange how something so small can make you do something so big. The case in question started with a lack of benches in the queue to take the obedience practicals.

  Joe, Kayla and I were feeling upbeat. We had just passed our written obedience tests. It wasn't much but we all got certificates and badges with the slogan 'I obey' on them. I mean, it wasn't difficult, it was multiple choice. For example:

  WHEN SHOULD YOU SPEAK IN FRONT OF A SUPERIOR BEING?

  A) WHEN SPOKEN TO.

  B) WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE IT.

  C) NEVER, EXCEPT SUNDAYS.

  "People actually fail! No really, I've heard," promised Joe.

  I'd been glad that Cortona, on my collar, had been turned off during the exam so I had actually had a little peace and quiet for forty minutes. Now we were sitting on benches, ready to be called in to take the practical exam. We sat around tensely. I was trying to distract myself.

  "You're not still trying to remember the Terms and Conditions? It's a waste of time," said Kayla.

  I looked up from my three ring binder to see that '88 and her gang had also arrived, fresh from their paper test. There was a ripple of giggles from '88's posse; no guesses as to whom they were talking about. Unfortunately, '88's gaggle started to giggle again. They talked loudly enough to make sure we could overhear them.

  "Do you think user #221 is re-staging Cinderella and is in need of three ugly sisters?" said '88 to her friends. Her highest bidder had changed recently and she was making the best of it.

  "Don't sink to their level," said Kayla to Joe. He was quite clearly fuming. I tried to change the subject but then the doors opened and '88 was called in.

  "What I wouldn't do to that woman," said Joe.

  "You know what my dad once said? He said that he never had enemies just future victims," I told Joe.

  All of '88's gaggle was slowly called for their practical.

  "What's the next class?" asked Joe.

  "Why are you asking me? I'm not a collar," said Kayla.

  "He's asking you because he knows exactly what the class is; he just doesn't want to go," I said.

  "It's a seminar on 'Faking It for Your Owner', big deal," said Kayla.

  "I'm so rubbish at it," complained Joe.

  "It's about being appreciative to your partner, which you would find difficult" said Kayla straightening her silicon, second skin.

  "You're as bad as '88," Joe said, standing up and walking away, as his number was called.

  "What's up with her?" said 12-20, sitting down with us. I was a bit suspicious. 12-20 was one of '88's group of friends, the last one left to be called.

  "I heard that you want to hear about a certain Rockwood." said 12-20. Then her number was called.

  "Maybe," I said.

  "If you do, then be on Level 42 an hour before lights out," 12-20 said and left.

  Chapter 19/Danger on Level 42

  It had been a difficult decision. My first response was that it was some kind of trap, but I thought that knowing that might help me. So I decided to check out Level 42 with Kayla. The area was abandoned and dark; my stiletto heels clicked on the bare concrete floor. It was dark and with minimal surveillance systems. Although with a camera in my collar I was a walking surveillance system.

  "Stop!" said Kayla.

  "Why?" I whispered.

  "The signal-strength light on your collar just went from green to red. One more step and you will lose WiFi signal. Hold your arms out and slowly move backwards," Kayla whispered back.

  My stomach felt like someone was using it for Kinbaku-bi. Level 42 wasn't technically outside the e-Slave zone, but losing WiFi on my collar would trigger both an alert and the Big Wasp-Sting, as we called it. So far I was safe, my collar hadn't issued any warnings, so I could argue that I was on legitimate ground. Standing, arms out like a kid pretending to be an aeroplane, I stepped slowly back.

  "OK, you've gone to blue. Try moving towards the wall," said Kayla.

  "I've got a better idea, why don't you try moving to the wall?" I said.

  "Because, I'm the Return here. You screw up and you lose a warlord for an owner. I screw up and I'm next week's bolognese sauce," Kayla told me.

  It was a very convincing argument. I acted like a blind man's stick and gradually probed the area. The wall seemed to have a stronger signal. The floor was tiled, so I moved from tile to tile, testing the invisible landscape around me. Perhaps this was 12-20's plan to trick us into a WiFi mine field. I pressed my collar button, "Cortona where is 10-66?"

  "10-66 is in Sector Level 41, ," Cortona whispered to me. That was fascinating: the system had got the floor wrong.

  "This," exclaimed Kayla.

  "What's wrong?" I said, not willing to turn around.

  "I'm down to 10% battery. I need to get me recharged. Pronto," Kayla said.

  "OK. Let's just move slowly back, follow the path back to the stairs we came down. I guess 12-20 isn't showing up."

  "Yes?" said another voice in the gloom.

  "Is that you 12-20?" I said. 12-20 came over and reached the wall where I was. "How are you doing that?" I asked.

  "I charged up before I came, the weak signal really eats batteries but hides your true location from the network," said 12-20.

  "We haven't got much time, I'm on about 15% myself," I warned.

  "Look. I felt sorry about being mean to 13-27, but you've got to understand, I need to make sure I have a good social network," she said.

  "You're a Return?" I asked. I'd discovered that being a Return was as close to leprosy as it could get with e-Slaves. You could get returned through no fault of your own, but the voodoo which drove the e-Slave world meant that people would not associate with you for fear that you might contaminate them with 'low value' or, worst still, 'returnedness-ness'.

  "So you understand! Look I need to be close friends with '88. She's a fantastic networker and has followers coming out of her ass. I need to be on her good side. If '88 discovers I'm a Return she'll drop me faster than a radioactive cupcake and I'll be unfriended to death. I NEED POSITIVE COMMENTS. The only thing that keeps you visible here is positive comments. If I don't get more soon I'm going to die here, I can feel it," said 12-20

  "OK. I said I won't tell. My name is Jenny, by the way."

  "Look, if '88 drops me, you and your friends can't save me. Shit, '88's looking for me," 12-20 said.

  When you asked your collar to locate someone, it told them you were looking for
them.

  "I haven't got much time. I was sold to Rockwood. I'm told he's the strictest Master in Washington. Takes great pleasure from breaking any slave who shows the slightest will power to a obsequious kiss-ass. I was told I was lucky, he doesn't just break you, he sticks your soul into a blender until you belong to him unconditionally. They said even the other Cyborgs are scared of him. He knocked down half of Chicago to build his packing factories. He's got a massive sexual appetite: he has this massive harem which he uses to soak up his impulses. No one knows what he does to them as everyone is forbidden to talk to the harem girls. And he's a picky ba$tered too, and rejects anything that's a hair less than perfect. I'm delivered all the way to Washington 2.0, and I'm still in the shrinkwrap. He takes one look at me, says I looked different from the profile photos and I'm out," she said.

  "Was he a man or machine?" I asked.

  "Man. Man-ish. He was a Cyborg, but nothing obvious. He wasn't some brain in a tank. I mean if he was an A.I. he would have kept me purely for leeching off me. I spoke to a couple of e-Slaves and they said he was pretty fussy. Kept disappearing and kept to himself."

  "You're sure the guy you saw was him?" I asked.

  "Tish! It's her. Kiss me! Kiss me, like I'm going to die!" said 12-20. She pulled me close and wrapped her hands around me, pulling my body to her.

  "'20?" said '88's voice. I realised what 12-20 was doing. '88 had come down and was hanging on the steps near the strong signal. We were in the dim light and in our e-Slave uniforms we could have been anyone.

  "Call me '66," 12-20 whispered urgently.

  "I love you '66," I said, between gasps and loud kissing. I hadn't felt this scared since I was out one night looking for cans in a grocery store and had run in to a bunch of hunter drones. It felt weird as our breasts collided.

  "Oh... sorry... I'll just..." said '88 apologetically. We heard the click, click, click of her stilettos retreating up the stairs.

  "She's gone," whispered Kayla.

  "5% battery remaining. Lie down and do not move, ," my collar told me.

  "I'm on low battery, I've got to go," I said. I could see my collar's red LED flashing against 12-20's face.

  Chapter 20/The Confessions of Midnight

  Desperately I followed the wall around, when I got to the stairs I grabbed Kayla's hand and rushed up. We fled as furtively as we could. Level 41 had only a few people wondering through it. We rushed up to the landing on the floor above, on 40. I spotted a collar charger station and rushed at it like Jake T. Austin at a bottle of vodka after rehab. I grabbed the cable and plugged it into Kayla. She did the same thing to me with the other cable.

  "Warning: 3% battery, . Self destruct armed," Cortona announced pompously to me.

  Kayla held the tiny cable in her gloved hand and held it against my neck. She was having problems flipping up the tiny flap, which protects the port from dirt, on my collar, to stick it in.

  "Hold still, hold still," Kayla said frantically, while she fumbled at my throat.

  Hold still? Was she is serious? I was this close to becoming Makizushi sushi filling.

  I felt the click in my neck and sighed.

  "Charging, ," Cortona announced.

  "Kcuf that was close. I was on 3%," I said out of breath. I was that close to being my own reproduction of the french revolution. 2

  "Behind you. Don't turn," said Kayla, looking over my shoulder. I turned slowly to see '88 looking around. Then 12-20 rushed up and clearly managed to explain herself. '88 looked fairly happy. I turned away to look at the charging station.

  "You should see the look she gave us," said Kayla.

  "I'll watch your collar cam later," I said, looking away.

  ****

  By the time we had charged up, it was time to get back to the dorm-cages.

  "What was it like?" said Joe, under the half-dim lights, before curfew.

  "Scary. I was closer than a mouse's balls to running out of power. I could have ended up a really hard-to-remove stain on Kayla's clothes," I told him.

  In reality nothing would stick to our clothes for long. As slaves go, we were the most stain-free slaves in humanity's history and the machines liked us that way.

  "Not the room. Kissing 12-20," said Joe.4

  "Joe!" Kayla and I said in unison.

  "Please!!" Joe pleaded.

  Generally, I felt sorry for Joe. I could swear his collar was trying to get him to speak in a higher register. But I also knew he would sleep with Kayla quicker than you could drop a stoat down Principal Humbolt's trousers. OK, I decided to humour him.

  "Err, a bit weird. Wet, not bad. It was odd, you know, you're kissing a bloke and he's doing all the wrong things. Kissing '20 was like, you knew what to do: it's what you wanted yourself," I explained clumsily. 5

  "OK, bad question: too much detail. This is 12-20? The tall girl, she's practically in kitten heels," said Joe.

  "Yes, I could feel her knees in me."

  "Forget that. Did you ask her what he does?" said Kayla.

  "No. Look, you can watch my collar cam tomorrow," I told them. I should have asked her that.

  My collar was nagging us to get ready for bed and so we split up and used different dressing stations before climbing up. I plugged in and lay down, still wondering what I'd discovered. So, Rockwood was a bad boy. I guess the question was, why had he rejected 12-20? He must have known she was tall as it was on her profile page. What was wrong with her in the flesh, was it her smell? If he was a Cyborg, he might have some weird quirk. Why would he take just one look at her? It was like he was looking for something or someone? What was he looking for? And, most of all, why was he bidding so desperately for me? I really had to figure this out.6

  *****

  Chapter 21/Scale and Proportion

  20 seconds into the future /Slave Systems Inc/Factory 7: Area formally known as Aspen.

  Jenny's POV

  "Cortona, where did I put my pelvic toner?" I asked my collar, I was in a hurry for a class. We had been issued with a few more personal items and I will admit that the collar was a fantastic way to keep track of things. I never had to remember where anything was.

  "It's on the bunk beneath you, to the left, ," said my collar.

  The girls had been issued pelvic toners, like we were a bunch of new mums. The mechanical beasts counted our kegels and ratted us out to the machines and even posted our progress to our profiles. Just when you thought the world was completely dystopian, the machines found ways of making it worse. Word on the street was that adherence to proscribed routines and regimes was seen as positive e-Slave material. This had led to a burst of fury at the profiles, which would leave poor Joe still in the starting blocks. So Kayla and I 'borrowed' Joe's and worked up some points up for him (they were cheat-proof: we checked). I could now kegel for the Olympics. My collar reminded me that I had to leave to get to the class on time.

  As I walked out, I passed 12-20 coming in to the slave-cages.

  "Succubus," I said without looking at her.

  "Bitch," she said back, behind me.

  It was what passed for greetings these days at the Factory, but she was still in with '88 which was good. Perhaps I should be in with '88 but I'm never smart enough to be that political.

  "Cortona, how far to the class?" I asked my collar.

  "832.2 meters, ," my collar said. The collars were counting steps and encoraging us to do more. This was also something I was having to adapt to. Our evil robot overlords had introduced the 'ydooby' metric system to America. Typical of Robots to get rid of a system based on the human body and replace it with something well, you know, French. I mean I can just imagine some New Mechanical Order council sitting in some dark malevolent hole, plotting and planning the overthrow of mankind. I could imagine them sitting there:

  "So," says the Central Processing Unit computer at the head of the table," How else can we make the Americans suffer?"

  "I know," says some evil, violet-eyed
Cyborg, crushing his drink in his crab-claw hand, "Why don't we force them use the metric system?"

  This is followed by large amount of maniacal, machine, evil, laughter.

  The Head Evil Central Processing Unit computer somehow nods, without a head, "Yes, that way they won't know how 'big' or 'far away' anything is. Not only that, they won't guess how much weight they've lost by eating all that healthy crap that we force them to eat," it says gleefully.

  "But let's force the Americans to use the English dress size system," says a third, foul computer.

  The Robot Council, all sixteen of them, turns and looks at the third, foul computer, blinking a tiny red LED in the most depraved way that a tiny red LED can be blinked.

  "What? Says the Head Evil Central Processing Unit computer, looking at the third foul computer.

  "American dress Size 0 is English dress size 4. If we get them to use English dress sizes, suddenly all the hyper-vain, size-zero, super model wannabes will feel fat and bloated. It will be a kind of massive, reverse vanity-sizing," says the third, foul computer to the appreciative, sinister smiles of the Robot Council.

  "A good pernicious addition to the metric plan. Do it, third, foul computer. Oh how the Americans will wail and gnash their teeth. Go to the top of the council's pecking order for that."

  "I'm already at the top of the council's pecking order," says the third, foul computer.

  "Well, go to the bottom and we will all be a lap behind," said the evil, violet-eyed Cyborg.

  "What shall we do in Europe?" says a tiny, but evil, computer rack, blinking furiously.

  "Perhaps we should force them to use Le Corbusier's Modular System," suggests another Cyborg who is little more than a brain-in-a-tank, with fish swimming around it.

  832.2 meters later, I arrived at the Reproductive Biology class, and joined Kayla and Joe.

  "Have you heard the news?" Joe whispered, before the class had started.