That Which Was Left Behind

Somewhere in Ontario . . .

"Damn! Is this the place, Mila?"

The pretty grey-eyed blonde woman in the casual clothes -- button blouse, form-fitting designer jeans, cowboy boots, and home-knit cardigan sweater -- turned to look, and then she nodded. "Yes, Don. This is the site of Robot Lab Six."

Hearing that, the Canadian Forces military police master corporal grimaced as he turned the civilian-pattern Ford Crown Victoria up the slowly-weeding driveway to the abandoned home located not far from the Queenswood Heights section of Ottawa. Parking the vehicle a safe distance from the main garage of the house, he killed the engine and then opened the door. At the same time, his companion opened the passenger side door to get out as well, taking a moment to scan the area with optical scanners that were far better equipped than normal human eyes to detect any potential threat. Especially if it came from anything created by either Fembot Command or Robot Control.

Drawing his service pistol from under his blazer jacket, Don Roncetti did his own scan, focusing his attention on the front and side doors of this normal family home. Or so it would appear to most passers-by. It was by sheer luck that the Canadian Forces National Investigation Service had finally pieced together the events of the "Rochelle Prantov Incident" that had struck the national capital region some years ago to finally determine where the lost Robot Control control station and support lab had been located. After all, given the true details of that incident -- and what could happen if certain aspects of that incident ever became public -- it had been decided at the highest levels of government that it simply was in the better interest of the government of the Dominion to keep all information on semi-sentient gynoids, controlled by two unknown but clearly opposing forces, which were operating in total secrecy in many levels of modern society. "How's it look, Mila?" he asked.

She stopped, and then smiled, winking at him. Mila Ihoryshyn was, to all of Don's friends "not in the know," his girlfriend of five years. She was a fourth-generation Ukrainian-Canadian who was currently doing private studies at the University of Ottawa in pursuit of a degree in women's studies. A girl who was truly in love with her "military man" (as she proudly declared to anyone that asked her), she would gladly become Mrs. Donald Roncetti as soon as his current tour of duty with the CFNIS was done and he could go back to being a "normal" military policeman in places like North Bay or Trenton; Don wore Air Force blue when he was asked to put on his uniform.

In truth, Mila was a gynoid; a "robot" as she proudly declared herself to those who were "in the know" and asked her about it. Built originally as a normal series 558 operative by Robot Control Lab Nine six years before, she had been part of a group of nearly a hundred such units that had been mysteriously deactivated and effectively abandoned by the governing sentience behind each of that organization's main computer units at every control station and support laboratory. Mila herself had been acting as a waitress at an ethnic restaurant in Thunder Bay when she failed to show up one day and the restaurant's owner -- whose son was a reserve infantry soldier with the Lake Superior Scottish Regiment -- called in the police to investigate; given her spotless work record, David Petrushkov didn't believe for an instance that drugs or anything else was involved. When Mila was discovered at her private apartment, unmoving and with access panels on her chest and back opened to reveal what lay underneath, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had been immediately called in, as had the Canadian Forces given that no nation on Earth possessed the technological base to construct such lifelike inducted sentients. Not to mention do so in such massive quantities as was soon discovered when, after an analysis of Mila's memory files was done at Lakehead University, Lab Nine was discovered in a remote cottage on the Sibley Peninsula.

Once the Canadian Forces were ordered by Parliament to investigate this further, they relocated the gynoids of Lab Nine to the Connaught Range, west of Ottawa's downtown core on the shores of the Ottawa River, where the National Investigations Service (with help from the Communications Security Establishment) set up a brand-new laboratory complete with localised construction facilities. After a period of trial-and-error which resulted in some necessary processing enhancement modifications to the older gynoids such as the Series 032 technicians and the Series 510 field agents, the reborn Robot Control Lab Nine -- or "Canadian Forces Gynoid Laboratory Number Nine" as it was jokingly nicknamed by the CFNIS members involved in Project: Black Maiden -- was back in business. Mila, as one of the most advanced field agents available, had been pressed into duties as soon as she received all the necessary programming augmentations and had some loyalty coding to the Crown inserted in. Don, who had needed time away from regular military police duties after a tour in Afghanistan, had been picked to be the blonde mechanical woman's controller and partner.

"Let's go inside," Don then stated.

---

That Which Was Left Behind by Gorgo

Reviewed by Robotman

Based on the Robot Control universe, created by Robotman

This story is a sequel to The Mission, written by Robotman. It incorporates elements from H is for Heuristic, 36+1 and Soccer Mom Unit, all also written by Robotman.

DISCLAIMER: Concurrent with fair dealing clauses of the Copyright Act (R.S.C., 1985, c. C-42) of Canada and fair use clauses in copyright legislation in other nations, this is a work that was created solely for entertainment purposes. Furthermore, it is posted freely on the Internet without expectation or requirement of re-numeration.

---

"Same situation as what we discovered at Fembot Command Base Sixteen."

"So I noticed," Don mused as he and Mila looked around the living room of the abandoned home, noting the layers of dust over everything, not to mention the tell-tale signs that some sort of struggle had happened in this place. "That was the one that might have created the unit which could have been involved in that murder in Calgary."

Mila nodded, her central processors quickly calling up what information she had on that incident. While she would not have really cared about such things were she still under the full authority of Robot Control, the last four years she had worked as a "special technical advisor" to the CFNIS had been a literal eye-opener to her. When once her model was restrained by Robot Control's near-paranoia for secrecy and drive to use stealth and subterfuge in obtaining what it needed, Mila had later come to benefit from the collaboration of over two dozen of Canada's finest artificial intelligence and computer software engineering masters to literally have herself "wake up" much like two sister 558s -- one of which had been built here at Lab Six -- had done shortly after the matter with Rochelle Prantov had exploded like it had done. And with the new layers of ethical programming she had received as part of her "modular" upgrading, Mila could look on what had happened in that particular incident and actually feel horror at the thought of a sister gynoid -- even if she was built by Fembot Control -- actually killing an innocent man and rendering his children orphans. And it was because of that particular incident that Mila had gladly joined CFNIS to help see Project: Black Maiden to its successful conclusion, where Fembot Command would either be made totally subservient to Robot Control . . . or else it would be totally destroyed. "Yeah."

"Let's go downstairs," he beckoned.

She nodded as they headed out of the living room into the kitchen, quickly finding the door leading to the side entrance. And sure enough, there was another guard door there, though this one had been clearly cut open and forced. Without hesitation, Mila headed down to the darkened basement, her optical sensors instantly switching to low-light mode so she could see the details there. A quick glance from the side of one eye showed that Don was slipping on a special pair of night-vision goggles that would pick up the minute ultraviolet beams emitting from his partner's eyes so he could see what she was looking at. Sure enough, there was an armoured door, no different than what shielded a bank's secure vault from outside, at one side of the room. It had also been cut open and forced. Mila gazed at Don, who raised his SIG Sauer P225 to the ready; she didn't need to use her magnetic echo functions to detect that one of the special 9 millimetre high explosive fragmentary rounds the pistol was designed to use was in the firing chamber and the safety was off. With that, she turned and walked through the door before stopping. "Oh, my . . . "

Don stepped in, his pistol pointed ahead of him, and then he blinked. "Okay, this is unusual," he stated. "If FEMCOM . . . " -- that was the accepted military shorthand code for Fembot Command; Robot Control was ROCON -- " . . . had taken this place, why didn't they strip it to move somewhere else or prepare it for demolition?"

"Because Tammy escaped with Mike Moser at the same time people had discovered the truth about Rochelle thanks to Tom King," she answered. "Everyone affiliated with FEMCOM -- especially Kim Phillips -- in town had to vanish off the map given the shit-storm King was raising over Rochelle. They might have planned to come back to this place later, but it seems it might have slipped from their agenda."

"Or they might be planning to come back." A nod. "Okay. So what have we got?"

"One Laurie-model Series 032 technician plus five Series 558 field agents," Mila reported as she focused on the faces of the five other gynoids who were left standing still and naked in the middle of the laboratory. "Accessing files on operatives that were constructed at this location," she then announced, a touch of inhuman precision entering her normally pleasant voice. "Accessing . . . accessing . . . file located." She pointed at each of them. "Olivia Mykhaylochuk," she called out as Don brought up his BlackBerry Bold 9700 to type down the names in question, then get a picture of each still woman. "Theresa Korovina. Nadine Alexander. Brenda Daniels. Serena Kamati."

"Got it," Don said. "Get the doc powered up."

"Naturally," she said with a knowing grin as she moved towards Laurie.

Standing before the raven-haired, blue-eyed technician, Mila reached up to press the manual activation switch in the exposed chest hatch over her breasts. Laurie seemed to jerk for a moment before a hidden light seemed to flash in her own eyes as her chest began to rise and fall in simulated breathing. A second later, she froze, calling out in a robotic monotone, "Er.ror. No-ac.ti.va.tion-file-lo.ca.ted."

Mila frowned. "Oh, damn! They wiped you clean, didn't they?!" she hissed.

"Can you do a full hardware reboot?" Don asked.

"Not here; that particular function wasn't active at the time this place got shut down," she confessed as she pressed on Laurie's activation switch again to shut her down. "We'll have to get them back over to the Ranges and let Loreen look at her."

A nod. "I'll get a cargo truck."

With that, he moved to make a call . . .

---

Connaught Range and Primary Training Centre, an hour later . . .

"I guess I chose right."

Hearing that comment from the virtual twin of the Laurie gynoid that had been just delivered to Lab Nine's work building, a new construction overlooking what was known locally as Shirley's Bay at the corner of Rifle Road and Shirley Boulevard, Mila then asked, "What do you mean, Loreen? Chose right for what?"

"My new name," Loreen Anderson -- who, when she had been initially constructed many years before, had just been given the name "Laurie," like all the others of her specific model of Series 032 Robot Control technician -- stated as she waved at her deactivated sister, now stretched out on one of the examination rooms on the third floor. Lying on several of the other examination tables were the other "survivors" of Lab Six. "Never was programmed to appreciate what being a literal clone with hundreds of others like me worldwide was like. Hell, never was programmed to appreciate anything!" A snort escaped her. "Chances are, she'll have to undergo some serious rebuilding once we get everything dredged up from her memory banks to see what her status is. You sure it was a FEMCOM systems wipe that shut her and the others down?"

"All the basic programs for their standard field agents, but it was never properly initialised. No doubt because of Tammy appearing like she did and distracting one of the GIBs into going after her," Mila responded, addressing Fembot Command's enforcer units with the short-hand term for "girls in black." "I didn't want to give them any sort of pre-cleansing since I don't know how that would affect trying to do a full systems sweep and recall hardware reboot," she then advised her own technician.

Loreen nodded. "Alright, I know what to do. Go be with your man."

Mila grinned as she turned and walked out of the room, her hips swaying all the way. As she did that, Loreen headed over to her work desk to call up some systems on her personal laptop, which was linked to a specially-built version of the old Master Computer at Lab Nine which possessed the same intrinsic calculative and analysis powers as the original unit but also possessed some improvements mandated by security demands and the desire of all the field officers assigned to Project: Black Maiden to have gynoid co-workers who couldn't be hacked by outside parties. For Loreen, it had given her the added advantage of being gifted with the ability to develop her own true sentience and -- once the necessary hardware upgrades were done in her body to make her the physical equal of any Series 558 presently in the service of the Crown -- granted her effective control over her life. She wasn't totally free from external control, of course; the programs that came with her "Mod One" upgrade blocked her from doing anything which was contrary to the Criminal Code of Canada, the National Defence Act and the Official Secrets Act. Fortunately for her -- and the other gynoids now serving Canada -- the ethical programs had been done in such a way that didn't allow any sort of adversarial atmosphere to develop between the gynoids and their organic co-workers.

In Loreen's case, getting them had allowed her to develop something of a cynical personality. Where she once would have moved around her base laboratory in the nude, Loreen these days wore quite stylish clothes fresh off the best women's shops on Sparks Street downtown; they were always topped with a white doctor's smock that did a lot to break up her quite stylish looks from any onlooker. It wasn't that Loreen had become a prude on "waking up" and effectively accomplishing Robot Control's mandated mission by emotionally becoming human in the long run. Like Mila, she had a lover: Chief Petty Officer 1st Class Lance Mason, the senior non-commissioned officer assigned to Project: Black Maiden. Like Mila's boyfriend, Lance was a military policeman by training, having been assigned to the CFNIS after a spell as School Chief Warrant Officer of the Military Police Academy in Borden. He was a widower, too; Lance's wife Elaine had died in an automobile accident almost ten years before. Lance's children had all grown up and left the home well before Loreen ever came into his life . . . and while they didn't know the truth about their father's new lover, they certainly didn't mind how much the younger woman had come to pump new energy into their father's life.

Also, having a former CFMPA SCWO as your personal snogging companion did wonders whenever younger studs that made their way to Connaught spotted the raven-haired scientist (as the outside world was made to see Loreen Anderson as) walking around the base grounds and decided to hit on her. Practically every time that someone even came within a metre of Loreen -- almost as if by magic! -- a sharp cough would make the unlucky person turn around to find himself staring at a pair of very angry grey eyes on a lined face complete with beard and moustache, the black-thread insignia of his rank sticking out loud and clear from the front side of his CADPATs. A simple icy request along the lines of "Do you have any business with my companion at this time?" was enough to send the prospective lover staggering away in quite comical disorder.

Reflecting on that, Loreen could only sigh as she gazed once more on her sister. You are going to have a lot to catch up when we get you back up again, she mused to herself before perking on hearing the door opening and close. "That you, Mariko?"

"It's me," Mariko Azana -- the former Maria unit assigned to Robot Control Station Eleven in Thunder Bay itself before it was mysteriously shut down -- said as she walked over to stand beside her sister technician. Like all of her particular model, Mariko had a classically Japanese look to her face and body, with golden-brown skin, long silky black hair that flowed to her hips (and was currently tied off in a long ponytail to get the ends above waist-level) and eyes which were almost as black as charcoal. "So this is the Laurie from Lab Six," she stated; as she was linked into the Central Computer as Loreen was, she was automatically updated on anything that happened in this part of the building. "Any idea when people will be able to find Station Two?"

"Hopefully, we'll be able to send someone today once I get her woken up and we get everything booted back into line. Want to help?"

A nod. "Sure."

With that, both technicians got to work. From the remote link station on the diagnostic bed now holding the Laurie unit from Lab Six, cables were brought out to connect to her chest panel. Mariko removed the facemask to gaze on the circuit boards and conduits hidden underneath, noting no physical damage had been done. With that, she took a monitoring cable from Loreen and inserted it into a data feed point at the very top of Laurie's opened face. Once that was done, Loreen tapped a control to bring up a holoscreen over the remote link mechanisms; even if both technicians were able to monitor what was happening thanks to their links to the Central Computer, any of the organics working here at Lab Nine had the right to enter the room and get any sort of update on anything happening here by just asking. The holoscreen would keep the questions cut down to a minimum; Loreen didn't like to be distracted by anything.

"Commencing purge of FEMCOM programming," Loreen stated.

Another control was tapped. Instantly, the not-initialised Fembot Command programming that had been inserted into Laurie by the attacking enforcer units was detected and carefully removed from her memory banks and central processor chips. That took a total of 8.9 seconds to accomplish. And once it was done, the deleted files were double-deleted out of Laurie's "junk folder" processor, the place built into all of Robot Control's creations where unnecessary data files were dropped into when they were no longer needed. With that done, any chances Fembot Command could make use of to turn Laurie back to their control was effectively dealt with. "Doing full memory file scan and central processor unit analysis," Loreen then stated aloud.

And sure enough, the main door opened, revealing a smiling raven-haired, hazel-eyed woman in the designer slacks, double-breasted blazer and button shirt with tie that was standard office uniform for the military members of Project: Black Maiden regardless of rank or position. "Good morning, lovely ladies!" Master Seaman Karen McKeever called out with a wave of her hand, and then she came over to gaze intently on the gynoid now holding Loreen's and Mariko's attention. "Just got started?"

"We've purged the FEMCOM programming," Mariko stated, pointing to the holoscreen to direct Karen to look on there to get whatever information she wanted.

Karen nodded as she did just that, and then she nodded again as she noted the progress of the full file sweep being done on Loreen's just-located sister. Unlike many of the people assigned to Black Maiden, Karen was not a military policeman; she had been trained as a communicator research operator after graduating from basic. Given the high-tech nature of dealing with Robot Control and Fembot Command, the Canadian military had gone out of its way to locate people from that trade as well as other high-technology fields to serve as analysis back-up and technological research personnel for the project. And since this was considered a very special level of top secret, getting people like Karen involved -- who were trained from the start to pierce all sorts of complex computer language coding and the like -- had been logical.

Fortunately for the non-military police personnel assigned to Black Maiden, they could also be assigned a gynoid "partner" to use when they were doing their work in different rooms of the building. Karen, who had been assigned to this part of the CFNIS only a year ago, had yet to get one and there had been no plans to progress new construction of Series 558 gynoid field agents as such had to be budgeted by the Ministry of Finance. Even more so, the new Series 622 gynoids -- the first Robot Control-type gynoid designed by someone outside the Main Computer, designed to absorb all the previous years' upgrading lessons with such beings -- were still in the testing phase and wouldn't be considered field agent-ready for a year. And while Karen didn't think herself as a hard-core technosexual, she was definitely interested in getting one of the lovely artificial women assigned to her as soon as possible.

After noting that all the wiped data files and other such function code that had been ripped from Laurie's memory banks and central processors by Fembot Command had been brought back up from the "junk folder," Karen then relaxed herself as Loreen tapped controls to get them reinserted back to where they belonged. "Something odd," Loreen then stated. "There was something else added in beyond her basic programs."

"What?" Karen asked.

"I don't know; it's code I've never seen before," Loreen replied.

"Put it on standby," Mariko advised.

"Done."

"Let's wake her up."

Another control was tapped. Laurie's eyes lit up slightly for a moment as the circuits in her exposed skull structure began to sparkle and the many function lights began to glow and flash in a random pattern. "Lau.rie-ro.bot-num.ber-Ze.ro-Three-Two-Ze.ro-Ze.ro-Ze.ro-Six-ac.ti.va.ted," she declared in a robotic monotone.

"Activate Human Emulation Mode," Loreen ordered.

A pause, several beeps, and then, "Yes, Laurie."

"Download new file designate 'NIS1-1a.G1a.'"

"Processing," Laurie replied. "File located. Downloading." A pause. "Downloading." Another pause. "Download complete."

"Access unit recognition files. Re-designate Laurie robot 0320009 as 'Loreen Anderson.' Re-designate Maria robot 0321011 as 'Mariko Azana.'"

"Processing." A pause. "Re-designation of specified Series 032 technicians to names given in file NIS1-1a.G1a complete, Loreen."

"Excellent. Download new file designate 'NIS1-1a.QRO' and execute."

"Processing. File located. Downloading." This time, Laurie repeated that last word five times before saying, "Download complete. Executing file instructions." She repeated the second phrase twice before declaring, "Execution complete. Laurie robot unit 0320006 now functioning under National Investigations Service ethical behavioural programming. Laurie robot unit 0320006 awaiting tasking instructions, Loreen."

"Excellent. Explain the nature of the undesignated code packet currently in memory bank cell 394," Loreen then stated as Mariko scanned the readouts of what was now happening in her co-worker's sister's mind. "State the purpose of the packet?"

"The packet was downloaded by Tammy Moser, Series 558 robot number 704483A, in the wake of subject unit executing program file 'MCNI-2705-s1.T81' and her dispatch to meet the human unit Mike Moser to better investigate the concept of 'love.'"

"Results of the download of the code packet?" Mariko asked.

"This unit was given the ability to express love."

Silence.

"Whoa . . .!" Karen breathed out.

"So that's where it started," Loreen stated, and then she asked, "Laurie, are the Series 558 units numbers 705119A, 716238A, 700921A, 701995A and 702355A also possessing the undesignated code packet you received from Tammy Moser?"

"Affirmative."

Loreen took 4.47 seconds to consider that, and then she smiled. "Laurie, re-designate unidentified code packet received from Tammy Moser as program file 'NIS0-9z.TLC,' download into primary central processor and execute."

"Acknowledged, Loreen. Processing. File located. Unidentified code packet re-designated program file 'NIS0-9z.TLC.' Downloading." Three times was that word repeated until she said, "Download complete. Executing file instructions." Five times was that second phrase repeated until she said, "Execution complete . . . OH!"

Karen gaped on hearing that shocked gasp from Laurie -- from what she had been told about how the technician gynoids always acted before they "woke up," hearing something like THAT from them was utterly unheard of unless a human emulation programming (which was standard kit for all Robot Control units even if they never served outside the laboratory or control station) had been activated along the way -- and then she watched as the faceless technician from the shut down Lab Six sat up.

As her hands reached up to gently cradle her bountiful breasts, Laurie then looked to her left and right. She then paused on realising there was a cable stuck to her forehead. A quick analysis of the cable's functions -- it was a link to a systems function monitor unit, no doubt a sub-system to whatever main computer her sisters were now linked to -- was done, and then she pointed up. "Can I get this taken off?"

"Let's put a remote on you instead," Mariko offered.

With that, the cable was removed and a small micro-transmitter with the same basic capabilities as a Bluetooth wireless transmitter earpiece was fitted in place. As soon as that was done, Laurie then removed the cables connected to her chest panel so she could move about. She then paused. "Um . . . where is my facemask?"

"Here you go," Loreen said as she handed the piece of equipment over.

A slight nod from the other Series 032 as she took her face -- which also contained the mechanisms that allowed her mouth to connect to her internal systems like a human's mouth connected to her digestive system, plus also contained the mechanisms which controlled her jaw and mouth movements -- and moved to attach it to the rest of her body. As soon as it was in place, Laurie closed her eyes in delight as she took a deep breath, and then she paused. "The air is different here. Please explain."

"The room is sanitised to a more exacting standard than what was practiced back at the various Robot Control laboratories," Mariko explained. "This will ensure that no external contaminants can get into any of our systems during maintenance time."

"I comprehend."

"Karen?"

Karen perked. "Um, y-yeah?"

Mariko smirked. "Guess what you get to do now?"

The Navy communicator research operator master seaman blinked, and then she felt her cheeks redden slightly as Laurie's curious, innocent gaze fell her way . . .

---

Minutes later . . .

"You're beautiful."

Laurie smiled before she paused. "Beauty does not compute."

"Yet you understand love."

"I am programmed to love."

Karen gazed at her. "Explain, please."

"To love is to be human. To love is to accomplish the Primary Function."

"To mimic humanity."

"Affirmative."

The communicator research operator nodded as she took this in. She was still dressed, though she had slipped off her jacket, undone her tie and unbuttoned her shirt to the level of her cleavage. Being part of a trade that dealt with all forms of signals intelligence, Karen McKeever understood quite well what mixed or faulty intelligence could ultimately mean for any person's battle plan. The additional disadvantages Robot Control and the sentience behind it had been operating with for so long was the fact that until very recently, all its attempts at obtaining the necessary intelligence to fulfil the Primary Function -- which Karen herself interpreted as "learn to be human" -- was restricted by the processor technology the field units had been built with. And without outside input by hardware specialists, there was no way to hasten the necessary upgrades the girls out on the streets needed to ensure incidents like what happened to Rochelle Prantov would never happen again.

That had been where the Department of National Defence had ultimately succeeded when it came to the former Lab Nine and Station Eleven girls like Mila Ihoryshyn, Loreen Anderson and Mariko Azana. Though the whole matter of Project: Black Maiden was kept as top secret as possible from the majority of Parliament and the press, the Communications Security Establishment -- through working alliances with counterpart agencies in other countries such as America's National Security Agency, Britain's Government Communications Headquarters, Australia's Defence Signals Directorate and New Zealand's Government Communications Security Bureau -- had been able to tap into a worldwide pool of software programming and hardware systems talent to better improve the capabilities of Robot Control's field agents and technicians to the level only two Series 558 girls -- Anya and Tammy Moser -- had been able to do thanks to two fluke accidents. While using ECHELON to better draw in the necessary information to make the lives of all of Robot Control's units much better ran the risk of public exposure to what had been secretly going on for a decade and more around the world, the many benefits of what was being discovered and developed were well worth that risk.

"You're only partially correct," Karen then stated.

Laurie blinked. "I am not fulfilling the Primary Function?"

"Not now, but you're getting there," the organic woman said, quickly including the second part of that answer so as to not cause the reactivated technician any sort of pain. "Laurie, there's much more to being human than just love. Yes, love is a great part of what being human is about. I love my job in the military. I love my parents. I love my friends and co-workers, regardless if they're human or gynoid. I want to love you, both as a co-worker and maybe something more as well. But there are other emotions as well that you have to consider. And -- given what Tammy gave to you before you were shut down against your will -- you may soon start to experience."

"Elaborate," Laurie bade her.

"Hate and anger."

Silence.

"Hatred is the opposite of love," Laurie then stated, a touch of fear in her voice. "Anger is the emotion that often develops into hatred. It results from situations where information between two or more humans is not properly transmitted to create necessary understanding to allow love to develop. Both emotions bring harm to humans. Love does not. Love allows information to flow properly between two or more humans so understanding can be achieved and all may respect all."

"Is that what Mister Moser told Tammy?"

"Affirmative. It also corresponds to all I have learned -- and have recovered thanks to Loreen and Mariko -- concerning how humans interact with each other."

Karen nodded. From what she herself knew of Mike Moser, he hadn't done much with his life before he encountered a gynoid named Tammy and had his life turned upside-down as a result of same. He was a known member of the on-line community that was most popularly known by the initials ASFR, which came from the Usenet chat group code "alt.sex.fetish.robots." And while that term was often used by people in the CFNIS to describe those like Mike and other such civilians who had been drawn into Robot Control's world, "technosexual" was the preferred term in government circles when it came to describing what people like Mike are; this ensured that any potential negative connotations arising from the word "fetish" would not stain people like him in the eyes of society as a whole. And for the most part, people like Mike were quite harmless. Deeply fascinated by the concepts of inducted sentience put into the form of a beautiful person, people like Mike were unofficial advocates for the safe use of such technology -- once it became widespread -- within society, following the more positive outlooks those such as Asimov, Roddenberry and Tezuka on such technology's impact on humanity's future than the nay-sayers or doom-predictors such as Crichton and Cameron.

"Well, you'll have to take time and learn what being human means."

With that, Karen rose and walked over to stare right into Laurie's eyes. The raven-haired gynoid remained in place, her own blue eyes gazing deeply into the other woman's brown eyes. After a moment, Karen then reached up to grasp Laurie's shoulders, and then she moved in to gently kiss her. The technician blinked -- part of her human emulation programming -- and then she closed her eyes as she felt Karen's tongue probe past her lips and teeth to tap her own. She responded by opening her own mouth and allowing her own tongue to play with her new lover's. At the same time, she felt the area around her opening between her legs dampen, which increased as one of Karen's probing hands reached down to gently stroke the folds there, the thumb and index finger pinching the clitoris ever so slightly to prompt an even deeper reaction from the gynoid that now held her attention. "You're wet," Karen purred into Laurie's ear before allowing her tongue to stroke around the contours of the lobe.

"I'll be as wet as you desire me, Karen," Laurie whispered.

"Let's lay down."

Both then shifted to the nearby bed; they had moved into one of the side rooms connected to Loreen's laboratory, which was set up as a "testing chamber" . . . which caused all sorts of chuckles among the organics when they considered what sort of "testing" got done in these places. As Karen made Laurie lay on her back on the bed, she then guided the gynoid's hand to her belt buckle. "What will happen to the others?" Laurie asked as she gently undid the belt, then moved to unzip the slacks to reveal the lace panties underneath. "Will you also be the human unit for them?"

A shake of the head. "I don't want to be seen as being greedy," Karen said as she swooned on feeling her new lover's delicate fingers probe under the band of her panties to brush the tiny oval of black hair above her opening. "Oh, Laurie . . .!"

Laurie smiled as she pulled Karen down so they could deeply kiss as her hand moved to get those annoying slacks out of the way so she could properly stimulate the human into a very satisfying orgasm. The master seaman didn't resist as those fingers pushed her pants and panties down to mid-thigh, which was the limit of Laurie's reach. But it was enough to get her nexus clear so that the gynoid's fingers could go to work to stimulate Karen as much as she could tolerate, which is what Laurie moved to do right away. "Oh, my God . . .!" Karen moaned as those deft and hard digits began to slide in and out of her, her legs widening to the limit her pants would allow them to go so that Laurie would have more clear access to her most intimate place. "Oh, my GOD, Laurie . . .!" she cried out as those fingers began to vibrate hard, causing a massive cascade of pleasure to rip through her body right to the core of her brain, and then she shuddered as a familiar chilly sensation mixed with the feeling of an overwhelming tidal wave slammed into her finally. "LAURIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE . . .!"

That scream -- accompanied by the subtle jettison of vaginal fluids from Karen's opening as it sought to lubricate the canal for a penis that wasn't there at this time -- soon turned into a moan of relief as Karen's body slumped against her new lover's, a crooned "So good . . . " escaping her as her eyes closed and sleep came. Noting that, Laurie then -- realising that the human was requiring some time to replenish her own energy before continuing with intercourse -- moved to lay the master seaman on her back, and then she proceeded to remove all of Karen's remaining clothes before taking the blanket folded at the end of the bed and drawing it over them, she then shifting onto her right side to lean against Karen's left as she moved to embrace her.

"I am pleased to have a human unit like you, Karen," the technician then said as she triggered her own sleep mode. "I know I will love you . . . "

To Be Continued . . .!

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