Wednesday, April 1, 2009

An Untitled Dinosaur/Robot Story

If you knew what to look for, you knew she was one. The fingertips always give it away. That brushed metal look where everything else is chrome. She might as well be carrying a sign. The squares say the finish is worn from work tasks, but what XJ-93d does any work? No sir; that is the fine wear of leathery skin on chrome. This one is into the dinos.

Personally, I don't care what goes on behind closed doors, but the brass is put off by this one. The raptors have her number; they are always hanging around, waiting for her to leave work. You ever smell a raptor in heat? Most humans can't come within a mile of it. That's bad for business, and business is all that matters to the brass. "Take care of it," they said, so take care of it I will.

I follow her out of work. This is how it all got started. Used to be robots didn't leave. Why would they? Now with their advanced computing systems they develop personalities, then personality traits. Traits lead to flaws. Man and dino lived together in relative peace after the initial shock. Sure, some kids got eaten on the way to school, but eventually we learned to coexist. The dinos were smarter than we ever imagined, and a truce was finally met. Robots like this XJ-93d were going to ruin everything. Because of their sentient status, you can't just do away with a robot, you have to prove something in court, or maybe an accident needs to happen. There's nothing illegal about a robot fucking a dinosaur, so my guess is that the brass wants the latter.

I tail her to Dino-town; all rundown buildings and park land. The place stinks of rotting carcasses, and the sweet-pungent odor of herbivore shit. There are no lights in Dino-town, so in a couple of hours I am going to be at a significant disadvantage.

Eventually we get to a collapsed building. Most of the first floor wall is still intact. She goes through what used to be the door. I sneak up after a few moments, making sure she's not just giving me the slip. Sure enough, this is where she was headed. As I approached I could hardly breathe and my lower brain functions were rebelling against me. There were raptors here, alright.

It took a few minutes to get myself together. Your fight-or-flight instinct really kicks in around raptors. If I piss myself (a common human reaction) I will find myself on the menu. I concentrate on my breathing and begin to extrapolate pi. Numbers are calming, since they are logic-based, they fight off lower brain reaction tactics.

I don't need to peer around the wall to know what is going on, but do anyway. I've always know about these kind of robots, these kinds of parties, but getting close is never wise for a human. The setting sun glints off the XJ-93d's body, shocking my eyes. I am glad for it. As my vision returns it allows the scene to fade in gradually. There are at least five raptors, their crests flared—their rutting furious. It is the most bizarre scene I have ever witnessed.

I sneak away to wait for her to leave, and plan my next move. The brass won't need to hear my report to make a decision. They pay me to think on my feet. They trust my decisions. This XJ-93d is going to disappear. It's a shame, but that's life, even for a robot.

My plan is simple. Wait for her to come out and return to the city. Hit her in the border area, which will be pretty deserted. It'll be nice and quick. If she could feel, she wouldn't feel a thing.

Wouldn't feel a thing, I think. That's pretty good. Why, though, is she so hungry for sex if she can't feel? Is this something new? Is it physical feeling, or just the emotional sensation that drives her? Even if it is not physical, are not our senses just stimuli turned into emotion? Perhaps this is some new definition of life flowering, and I am here to squash it in a dark alley?

"I have recognition of your facial features," a woman's voice says behind me. Dammit. "You are following me, affirmative?"

"Just interested in you, doll," I say casually as I can. This is bad. Any robot can be trouble if you don't have the drop on them.

"You disapprove of my behavior?" she asks.

"Not me. Not so much." She steps closer.

"My attraction array is not limited to dromaeosaurids. I am capable of appreciating homo sapiens as well," she states matter-of-factly. She steps again.

It seems strange, but she is exuding a carnality that I only get from human females. I am attracted to her. I feel myself go erect. She places a chrome hand on my chest. I see those slightly worn fingertips. That wear from the leathery raptor skin, and just as I remember, I hear the growl behind me. Yeah, she fucks dinosaurs, and now she's fucking me too.

She gives me a strong shove, and its all over. The raptor's jaws snapped my neck. I didn't feel a thing.

4 comments:

wiec? said...

this would be a great story for Omni: Forum magazine.

yer description of Dino-town was pretty vivid. herbivore shit and rotting carcasses. it's what i imagine the house from that show Dinosaurs smelled like. remember that show? a dinosaur family that was like the Flintstones but with people in dinosaurs. it was kind of crap.

sorry D. having work computer issues this week. thought this went through.

Darius Whiteplume said...

I remember that show, but did not watch it. I was to consummed with underage drinking at that time, IIRC.

ShaunLeggitt said...

That was awesome. Well done

Darius Whiteplume said...

Glad you liked it, Shaun. Welcome to the blog.

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