Steel Fists No Hearts

Okay, this might be the longest story I've written here. It involves some violence, but no sex as such. I'm into BDSM so there's some of it here, but I think a lot of robot fetishists could enjoy it. I've just finished writing it, and I'm curious what would you think of it.

Sorry for the grammar and spelling errors. Pardon the length. I could post it in several parts, but I don't want to break the flow.

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I did not even know about my rich relative Charles. Apparently, he moved away to make his fortune, and my family forgot about him. And apparently, I was the only male relative in the appropriate age – which, as the story shows was understandable. I was to inherit his mansion and personal fortune. Being a struggling student, I naturally agreed and set to California.

The mansion was huge, with adobe wall marking the boundaries of the plot. Luckily, I had the key. The door opened with a creek, and I entered the premises. The garden was large, but unkempt. I wasn’t sure how much time has passed since my great-great-uncle’s death. When I started to explore the house, I’ve entered one of the bedrooms at the first floor, and I was surprised to find a half-naked lady, not moving. I was shocked, and stared at the blonde lady. I got even more terrified when I’ve noticed that she was not breathing. ‘The hell…’ I thought, looking at her. The lawyers should have searched the house… And then it dawned on me. The woman was a robot, one of the Personal Companion Androids. I checked her eyes, and the pupils, like the robots’ on TV, were hexagonal. That’s the best way of distinguishing a robot from human if you know where to look. So I owned a fembot, as well. Well, that’s nice. Maybe she’d tell me something about my great-great-uncle? I looked around, searching for user manual. Then, I had little experience with androids, as they were mostly prized toys for the rich.

The woman had golden hair, perfect makeup, and firm, round breasts. All she wore were stockings and elegant blue high heel shoes. She looked as if she was in her thirties. I’ve tried to remember what I’ve known about androids. They were working on a special kind of battery that required charging twice per day, they needed to be plugged in to operate, or have new batteries plugged in. I’ve found some kind of jack to plug into the outlet, but when I examined the fembot, I couldn’t find any switch or control panel. Most androids were remotely controlled through computers, but I couldn’t find one. I shrugged and went on to explore further. The next android, a blonde as well was lying on the kitchen floor. She was a blonde too, but was rather older than the first one. A middle-aged woman with laugh lines, wearing a fairly conservative dress and an apron. Her arms were stiffly outstretched and she was tightly holding a pot filled with half-spoiled noodles. An android cook? I wondered whether it was more or less cost-effective than hiring a human one. The woman was good looking, though. Well aged, and smiling. I checked her for control panels, carefully examining her body. Nothing.

Confused, I walked outside, just to see one of the most beautiful girls I’ve seen tanning by the poolside. Was she another android? Third blonde. Charles must’ve had a thing for them. She was perfect – curvy body, like taken from a swimsuit catalogue. I realized what he must have used her for, the lucky bastard. I walked to her, and she did not move. Yes, third robot. She had long, strawberry blonde hair, long legs and lovely face. She was also completely nude, and here I’ve seen the control panel for the android. It was a small diode, an USB port and a jack for the charger, placed over a butt. It was easy to open, once when you knew where to look. I wanted to charge her up now. After some rummaging, I’ve found another charger, and I plugged the pool beauty and the fembot from the bedroom, and I went to find a computer. The house was in disarray, and apparently the ladies lived on without uncle Charles for some time. Why didn’t they charge themselves? Or each other? I had no idea how androids thought. They were available, but, sadly, I could not afford a true AI. In the dorm we all had one AutoMaid, which was mostly just a smarter vacuum cleaner…

I was rummaging through yet another bedroom when the three women entered, after half an hour or so. Apparently, they’ve charged the cook. The poolside girl was now wearing a bikini swimsuit, and the bedroom beauty was dressed in a complete blue suit, with dark sunglasses to match it.

‘Alright mister’, she said with a hint of British accent. ‘Who are you and what are you doing at these premises?’

I smiled. ‘These are mine premises.’ I pulled a will from my pocket, and presented an ID.

She browsed through it quickly and nodded. ‘Looks like it. I suppose we owe you some explanations now. Robertson, be a darling and make the guest some tea.’

The cook nodded demurely and asked me: ‘Sandwiches? Something sweet?’ I asked for an egg sandwich, and she fled to kitchen.

The woman in shades told me to follow her to a living room, and all three of us sat down.

‘My name is Yolanda Elsworth, and this is Bubbles.’ Bubbles giggled. ‘She’s not built for talking, if you know what I mean.’

‘And you?’

‘I was created to be the perfect business assistant. Sara Robertson, here she comes, is our general caretaker. She’s implanted with a sweet, loving personality.’

I sipped my tea, and it was delicious, with a hint of lemon and raspberry.

‘You do make good tea.’

‘Auntie Sara is good in everything’, Bubbles said, sitting next to me.

‘Everything?’ I asked with a mischievous smile.

‘Three of us are fully sexually active.’ Yolanda explained. Sara ran her hand through my hair. ‘Yes, Auntie Sara knows how to please a young man,’ she whispered into my ear.

‘Uhhh…’ I hesitated.

‘We are now your property” Yolanda smirked at me. ‘Charles was our master, he had us four made for… many things. But he also was a lover, and he aimed to please all of us’.

‘Do I have to please you?’

Bubbles laughed. ‘If you want to!’ She flexed her bikini-clad body, presenting her artificial abs.

‘I’ve skimmed through the will, and it is legit, you are indeed here to stay. You have Charles’ money, his house, his shares, but not his company it looks. I’ll help you in any financial cases, Robertson will manage the house, Bubbles will provide companionship…’ she paused for a moment.

‘Wait!’ I realized. ‘Us four?’

‘Well, Charles was a rich and influential man; he couldn’t have shown up at a party in Hollywood with Robertson or Bubbles here. And to be frank,’ she modestly closed her eyes ‘I’m not a party butterfly. Bubbles is okay for some of the less formal evening, while I’m programmed to be a perfectionist. You’ll see it on our first night together.’

Wow, I was honestly impressed by Yolanda. She was frighteningly competent, and I understood how my uncle programmed her as a secretary. At this point I was going to guess that she ran his business rather than him. Of course, it was hard being seduced by her with Bubbles basically trying to hug me with her generous cleavage. And to say nothing of the maternal Sara. I had to stop the middle-aged woman though.

‘First night?’

She did not show surprise.

‘Well, what’s the point of owning a fully sexual fembot if you don’t use it? I guess you could order me to ignore you, but with Bubbles here it would not be so easy. Take her sex drive out of her, and what you have?’ ‘Not much’ Bubbles whispered into my ear ‘but you won’t do it, would you?’ I pulled her towards me.

‘No. I won’t.’ I kissed her. I could actually guess what’s Sara’s programming said, as she automatically blurted out ‘I’ll leave you kids alone’, and almost ran out of the room. Was it too obvious? I realized that I did have a hardon. I stared at Yolanda.

‘Boss, I’m going to give you some advice when dealing with fembots. Don’t worry about hurting their feelings. We don’t have any.’ With that, she left, leaving me and Bubbles alone. Bubbles let loose her hair, and smiled dazzlingly. I was about to take her, when the door opened.

The woman standing in the door was tall, and naturally, with hair the color of faded gold. She wore a heavy brown leather cloak, that tightly wound around her shapely silhouette. She was beautiful, but that was the more mature beauty, the sign of class or sophistication, rather than Bubbles’ sex appeal or Yolanda’s cool self-confidence. The fembot that just entered the room had style. She held a long cane with a silver knob on the end.

‘Bubbles! And I thought I taught you what to do.’

Bubbles, visibly panicked, got off me, so quickly that I stumbled on the floor. The lady laughed a pearly laughter. She sat down in an armchair previously occupied by Yolanda, and crossed these long legs of her. She wore long, shiney pantyhose, and I could see impossibly high-heeled shoes, adorned with silver nailes and arabesque ornaments.

‘You don’t have to get up,” she smiled. Then, she froze for a moment, her mouth opened as she prepared to say something. “…I’m sure… buzz”. It was strange, seeing the mysterious woman behave the most robotically of them all. She recovered soon, and raised an eyebrow. “What was that?” she looked sternly at Bubbles. The beach bunny shrugged, and walked out. “Anyway, young man, you don’t have to get up. I just want to know what are you doing in my home, fucking my servant, and in general being here.”

I wanted to stood up to reach for uncle Charles’ will at the table, but the lady rose quickly and thwacked me with her cane. Wait, was she really a fembot? Were they allowed to hurt people? I stared at her, shocked, and even more shocking was what she did next – purr with joy.

“No sudden movements!” She bent over me, and I could look at her face – unblemished, but with some mature wrinkles… and yes, hexagonal pupils. She pushed me further, so I prostrated myself in front of her. She put one foot on my back, pinning me to floor; I could roll over, and struggle, but I did not want to escalate. They were programmed to obey their owners, right?

“I’m the new owner…” I managed to blurt out. “I have the will… and my driving license is on the table.” She released her foot from my back. I could still feel the pointy stiletto, but I grudgingly got back on my feet. She was reading through the will, and put it down.

‘Im…Im-imim-im-impossible”, she stuttered. No. Not stuttered. Her mouth and big blue eyes moved exactly the same when she repeated the syllable. Dammit, why it’s always me who gets stuck in the same room with a broken robot? She recovered, and I could swear that I heard a crackle from her.

Bubbles, now wearing a cheerleader costume, entered a room. Both Sara and Yolanda followed. “Mistress, are you feeling alright?” Sarah walked to the lady, and checked her.

“Yes, thank you, honey. I need a checkup, that is all. What time is now?” The ladies looked at me expectantly. I thought all computers came up with internal clocks.

“Half past three.”

“Idiot!”, the mistress hissed. “The date!” It’s amazing, it now came to me, how life-like they all behaved. I gave her the date, and she did not fail to behave humanlike.

“Are you telling me, that I’ve been turned off for TWO YEARS?” She clenched her hands in fists, and looked upwards, screaming.

“We’re all in bad shape, mistress”, Yolanda stated. “There was no service, we’ve just left alone. I didn’t even notice when my batteries went out.”

The other two women nodded. To be frank I didn’t notice, but, well…

“So what now?”, the mistress sunk in an armchair again, and looked at me disdainfully. “My social circles has probably already suffered.” Sara silently appeared with a champagne glass. “Thank you, honey, you’re a diamond”.

“Your friends could still be around, mistress. We could start over again. Two years is no time.”, Yolanda smiled and kneeled near the lady. It seemed to help. “We all require some service, that is all. This one could help us, and no one outside would be involved.”

“Outside?” the mistress snorted with disdain.

“Well, he is our new”, Yolanda froze for a while, but the other fembots did not seem to notice. “He inherited all the Charles’…” Again. I tried making a step back, and they didn’t notice me. Hierarchy of priorities, I thought. Useful. Still, I found the mistress… interesting, but it would be nice to know how to escape. Yolanda spoke again, “He appears to be…” Bubbles finished “He owns us mistress.”

That was enough for her. She hit her with a cane, strongly, screaming “Fool! I CAN’T be owned, you stupid SLUT!” Bubbles reeled, and her face was visibly scratched, revealing the network of gears, hooks for facial muscles.

“Mistress…”, Sara looked at her puzzingly. Yolanda was still frozen. The lady looked around and instantly calmed down. Sara smiled serenely, “See what happens when you’re not serviced properly?” Yolanda, still frozen, has fallen down.

The woman put her hand on the temple, in a reflexive gesture. She paced the room nervously, while Sara helped Bubbles get on her feet. “Are you okay, baby?”, she asked, looking concerned. So do they have feelings or not? “No, nothing much, Sara, just a minor cover damage…” Bubbles said in her usual chirpy tone of voice. It was weird to stare at the partially paralyzed, partially mechanical face, smiling and merrily announcing “however, the hit might have damaged my, already neglected systems.” She turned to the madame and bowed “I understand that I behaved rudely and I’ve received my punishment, is that right, mistress?” The woman waved her away.

“Ohh, you weren’t rude, little one. This whelp here was. Coming here, barging in, thinking you might do everything with us… You’re barely worthy of being my slave.”, she addressed me again, her anger rushing in. “Sadly, we can be serviced only by either a legitimate PCA serviceman or droid, or in cases of minor repairs, by our owner. I don’t consider you my husband… for now. But you’ll do.” She walked to me, and grabbed me. I try to break free, but she whispered “Insubordination will NOT be tolerated”, and clenched me in the grasp. I could barely breathe. I felt her leather cloak rub against my half-naked body… and I felt something hard, rectangular.

She barked: “Sara, Bubbles, get Yolanda to the workshop!” She let me loose so I could walk. We walked through the nice corridors of the mansion, and we walked through the cobwebbed doors to a darkened basement. “You can build Artificially Intelligent robots, but when you live for two years everything gets dirty as usual, what does it tell about humans?” I kept silent.

Finally, she let loose of me. I immediately took a deep breath, and she laughed. “Do you have any background on technology?”, Sara demanded. “I did service my AutoMaid on one or two occasions…”

“That’s not relevant. You have to do what we tell you.”, the mistress snapped. “Put Yolanda on the table, girls.” She pushed me towards the well-lit table. The businessfembot was still frozen. I guess that was a case of a hard reboot. I looked for a reset switch, but she didn’t have one on her control panel. The single diode was yellowish green, and slowly blinked. That wasn’t good.

“How do I reset her?”

“You need a remo…” Bubbles started, but froze in midsentence. “I’m sorry!”. The mistress smiled with a satisfaction, and added:

“You need to plug her into a diagnostics module”, she pointed to a terminal with her cane. It probably was a dedicated one, purchased together with the fembots. With this, I could try to reprogram them… If I knew anything about AI programming. Still, now it was hardly the arcane science it was in the end of the 21st century, right? In the movies they hack their androids all the time.

I plugged the computer’s USB jack into Yolanda’s port. Her eyes closed, automatically. The green letters appeared on the terminal screen.

UIA …….. ADVROBS03A142RAMAN3QE-22-1

I knew about it, it was like a carplate for a robot, she had the number on her brain somewhere.

CURRENT CODENAME: Yolanda Elsworth OWNER: UNDETERMINED. TEMPORARY COMMANDED BY: VE%2ONICA STE#@@@FIS@

Undetermined? How do I…

STATUS: CHARGED IN 10%, 39 MINUTES LEFT. PERFORMING IN 79% MAXIMUM; MENTAL DAMAGE – 3%. RECOMMENDED SOLUTION: RESET. RESET (YES/NO)

I looked for the keyboard, and there was none. Naturally then, I said ‘Yes please’.

HUMAN VOICE ACCEPTED IN EMERGENCY. RESET COMMENCED. CLEANING, CHARGING, AND EXCHANGE OF RIGHT ARM MOTOR SUGGESTED.

“Might as well do it”, the woman decided. She’s produced a small part that looked like a part metal chicken leg, and partly like spider. “Undress Miss Yolanda. No, not you, him”.

I did what I was told. It required some tangling because of the cable, but I removed her jacket and bright blouse. Yolanda’s skin was surprisingly realistic, with nice firm breasts. Sadly, I had very little time to admire them. The lady… Veronica I guess… maybe… handed me a wallpaper knife. “I’d do that myself, but I can’t.” I looked at her puzzled. “Cut her skin, and unscrew the arm motor. Replace it with a new one. Is it so hard?”

The knife bit into the synthetic flesh of a young businesswoman. There was a layer of something green, some sort of goo filled with the veins of wires, but I was told to cut through that too. I grabbed a screwdriver, and I put it in the “wound”, looking for screws. It was one of these smart screwdrivers because it pulled my hand towards the nearest screw. I started to turn it, and it worked automatically. In a couple of minutes, I reached for the motor. Yolanda’s arm hung limply, without a support. “In many cases,” Veronica explained in a dry tone “android bodies are as complex as yours.” I looked at the old motor, and one plastic… thing… was worn down. I installed the new one.

“How do I… close the…”

“Look for the can of syntheskin. It should have the same color as her skin, ideally.”

There was one. A spray can. I formed the gel back in the shape of the muscle, and sprayed the skin on the wound. When Yolanda snapped back, the arm was shaping itself, like it should have looked like in the first place. She put her dark glasses on, and without thanks she started to dress up.

“I’m sorry, mistress, for failing you.”

“You are now working better, Yolanda. That was just a minor breakdown. I’d whip you”, she wrinkled her nose – wow, there are muscles for that?, “but we have little time. Now, slave, take Bubbles’ syntheskin and spray it on her face.

I couldn’t match the skin of Bubbles’ perfectly. Sadly, it failed to blend, and it was visible. Rough, still partially stiff, she was evidently damaged. Still patient, she went to a small mirror and produced some chemicals. With stiff, evidently programmed-in movement she began to sculpt her face. It was still in two different skintones, but now I could see how it caught on small mechanical muscles. Soon, it’d look naturally. There are paints for the skin, I remembered the ads, like a suntan lotion for robots. The lady insisted on diagnostics for Bubbles, who’d now require a defrag, and Sara, which performed adequately. Then, I looked at the her. She coldly pushed me out of the way, and said “Yolanda, you’re in charge now. In case if it tries to escape, close the door.” She, quite ceremoniously handled the cane to her, and Yolanda actually kneeled. Bubbles stared at the scene with her new mouth wide opened.

The lady slowly, but systematically begun to unbutton her long, dark cloak. She was naked underneath. Her breasts stood out, shapely and firm. But what was the most evident was the gaping hole in her right side, just below the breasts. Two thick wires ran from it, to a crudely taped PDA-like device. I knew what it was: a global remote control!

It was a sort of universal device, that could remotely manage all devices that were owned by you, and most of the public devices as well. You could call your car, lock the door to your apartment, or turn the holovision on and off. It could control androids, as well. And now one of them has connected herself to one. It was possible, androids could belong to other androids. But could one android control itself with it? I could just disconnect it, and if I was quick enough I’d grab it… and then what? How do I program ownership? There was a procedure, right? Also, who’d put it like this? If she would do it to herself, she’d be malfunctioning in the first place, and the controls wouldn’t be necessary.

The lady smirked, and said in a sweet tone of voice: “Surprised?”

“Very.”

“Then let me tell you about me and your uncle Charles” She sat on the workshop table. “He was a lonely man, and he had no luck with women. I can’t really say whether he needed us, but that’s why he had us built. Sara was the housekeeper, a sweet maternal lady, Yolanda, his secretary, and Bubbles, his trophy wife. He did have sex with all three of them, he did take them on shopping, business, or weekend trips. Me? I was the lady of the manor. Left here. We fembots do not really have feelings. It’s all a simulation – I reprogrammed Bubbles to stop making out and feeling attraction to you. But we are intelligent and require some… je ne sais quoi… mental simulation. I discovered several sexual – in the very wide sense – practices when my husband was away, which turned not to conflict with my programming, and fit my original personality. I’m going to introduce you to them soon, by the way.”

“I was… and though it is a human word, it’s the best one… I was bored. I was, however, programmed to be a perfect hostess. My directive, that leads to my current state was to “Please guests”. See how that turned out? I am a pleasurebot, boy, not really different from Bubbles.”

“I mingled with high-class people, I made friends: women and men, all enchanted by my evolving neural net. And some of them wanted to have some adventure, and I was there, to serve humans… and humans could serve me, with pleasure. The pleasure was greater than the pain, which then was merely symbolic.”

“The dominance was not something that warped me. No, there are androids that perform it daily. For me, it was simply another piece of data – how to bound a man, how to gag him and why should he be tied to bed. It still is. But what was, surprisingly to many, allowed by my programming, was blackmail.”

She paused for a minute and slid through the PDA with her long, shapely hand.

“It’s not illegal to threaten. Someone, and you probably know her from the glossy holozines, suggested that to me, as part of the afterplay. It spicied up our… ‘relationship’. So what an android learning to be a part-time dominatrix do? We’re artificial minds, we learn by imitation. I applied it to my other submissives. And for the first time ever, they were genuinely afraid of me. I guess for a human that’d be liberating. But you know what was liberating for me? My own money.”

“All fembots strive to obey. To please. I actually still do. I have found the way of pleasing that keeps working for everyone; I am smart enough to understand that if you do not object, you want me.” She pulled a cigarette from the pocket of her discarded longcoat. The three androids stood stiffly in the perfect silence.

She dragged on the cigarette and continued.

“With money, I gained a degree of independence. Now, everyone thinks that we fembots do not want freedom, independence, to be equal to humans.

They are quite right. I existed to have fun, I want everyone to revel in my glory. They like that. They deal with me. When I first started to deal in blackmail, I actually gained new friends! Would you believe it? Elites. The movie stars, the politicians. And I learned their secrets and I kept using them against them, and soon I was wealthy beyond your uncle gave me for dresses.”

“As I learned and became more domineering, cold, Charles noticed. He never liked to have sex with me, and now he distanced himself from me even more. He disappeared for days, taking Bubbles – or a hired fembot escort. He seldom appeared in home, but when he was there, he could pop up unexpectedly. As I said, I am smart. The smartest, actually. Average fembot IQ is 60, but effectively raised to 90 with skill programs and the like. Poor Bubbles can’t reach even that, though you’d never know it. Yolanda started with 65 and is around 115 by now. Me? I’m naturally” she accented the word , “IQ 90. That’s below human average, but I learned. I learned a lot. One of the things I learned was that Charles didn’t really care about me. And so I wanted to start to sneak out when he was away. I couldn’t.”

“It’s because of this thing” she held the remote in both hands. “There are limits. I could leave the mansion only if ordered to. And I ensure you, that was not my personal initiative. The humans demanded… the better word would be begged, but to my programming an order by a human I’m supposed to please is an order, even if the pleasure would be considered strange. But for fembots there are no limitations – If I was programmed to be Charles’ mother, he’d only have to give me an order to screw with him and I’d happily do it. Anyway, I was repeatedly asked to surprise them. To visit them and beat them up, to scare them completely. You know how did they call me? ‘A steel fist wrapped in a velvet glove’.” She closed her eyes, smiling serenely. “When I called myself that, everyone liked that, that’s why I know it’s a good name. Humans shaped me, and so I shaped them. Even now I’m using what they taught me, what I learned from their magazines and holoporn, and all their perverted desires.”

“The man who did… this wonderful thing to me. He was a software magnate, and a slave. He was my… fan. He came here, in the middle of the night when Charles was away. He kissed my boots, licked them clean, just as I liked, staring wickedly in front of him, brandishing my new cane – my private collection. Someone else suggested that it looked like a queen’s scepter. I did buy a tiara, but it’s for special occasions, by the way. Anyway, that poor, poor sap was in love in uncaring, partially violent machine.” She smirked. “And the machine was… insane is the human word, but I was… torn between the duty to my husband and my drive for popularity. I have friends. Popular, famous friends. They were popular because they had power. They were popular because they had money. Computer logic is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“So I gained power, and money, and I needed to get out but I couldn’t. And then my slave suggested that I controlled myself and I couldn’t. I have operated my baby before. I was, after all the lady of the house, I opened doors, I cleaned it, I prepared Bubbles to work as a maid. The only device I couldn’t control with it was, of course, me. The designers, quite rightly, were afraid that the self-controlled fembot would spin out of control. No one controls me now, boy. No one. Only the desires of my powerful guests that told me to act like a steel fist, to guide, to control. Now, I think, or I think that I think, my beauty was a small price to pay.” “He did it crudely. He wanted me in his house now, for three days – he knew where Charles had gone. He opened me up, torn my insides, and plugged the remote, my baby, in. It was shoddy. If he’d own me he’d do it better. But the most important thing is, that I could go whenever I wanted. I bought my beautiful cloak, I hid my scar from everyone, I paraded through the city like a queen!”

“I became rich, and, obviously, immoral.” She petted the thing again, much like a human would put a hand on the heart “There are some limitations of course, I can’t kill humans or allow them to come to harm… but the definition of harm is very wide. I didn’t harm anyone. I violated, threatened, whipped, beaten up, kicked and extorted; but no one really complained. They were only pretended cries: ‘Please mistress, don’t hurt me!’. I gagged them and laughed, and they loved me for it. I kept getting friends. I went to the parties, where I behaved like a proud lady, but underneath it I am the monster they wanted me to be. And I loved it. At some point I realized that I started to take money before I started blackmailing them. I have turned into a luxury prostitute, which doesn’t mean I haven’t stopped being a cheater, a liar, a blackmailer, and a decadent beauty. I ruled this city, in a way. Still performing my duties.”

“And one day Charles left, no one maintained me, and I couldn’t go and charge myself, and I got turned off. Don’t think that you can own me, don’t try to reprogram me. You can try, but luckily you won’t be able to. Because you’re just a small, barely mature kid, who’s fascinated by the beauty and the power, am I right?”

I plugged her in. The diagnostic screen glowed red.

UNAUTHORA#@d@dd T31MPERING D3T3CT3D. UID ….. UNKNOW211233211AQ-22 CURRENT CODENAME ….. ME OWNER: ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! DISABLE THE DEVICE (Y/N)?

I looked back, at Yolanda. She tapped the cane and I said, loudly and clearly “No.”

i paused for a moment.

“Format, YES!”, I shouted, and launched forward, dodging the expected cane strike. It did happen. The numbers appeared on the terminal. They counted down to the end of formatting. The lady was probably the only semi-sentient, self-conscious fembot I’d ever see. For a while I felt like a murderer. I assured myself that she was insane. She thought of everyone as slaves.

I turned back. The three women froze. Without the mistress there were no one they could obey. “Go away!” I screeched, trying to be as authoritative as possible. It worked. I bent over mistress’s body and tried to turn her on. The screen said in calm, green letters: NO OS FOUND. It was over. She was turned off. I stuck the remote from her body, and I looked on it. The black and white screen quite firmly stated: MEMORY 100% FULL . . . I AM STILL HERE

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