The Rise of the Machines Pt. 02

Five years have passed since part 1. Androids have quickly developed from being expensive specialist machines designed for dangerous work underground or in nuclear power stations to be common in all kinds of businesses. Recently androids, increasingly indistinguishable from humans, have started appearing in the homes of the wealthy and technology-obsessed, mass production making a basic model as cheap as a luxury car.

Lady Elizabeth Greenham's husband has died of a heart attack (ironically during sex, although not with her). She was the sole heir of all his money, properties and business ventures. She quickly sold off most of those businesses, but held on to a small marketing company, which she now runs part-time. Over the years, she's forgotten any lessons she learned since part 1: is there anyone out there who can give her a reminder?

Mitch stumbled into his apartment, his arms full of groceries, cartons of takeaway food and a six-pack of beer.

"Damn!" he grunted as his mobile began to ring.

He dumped everything on the kitchen counter and quickly glanced at the screen before answering - it was an old army buddy.

"Hi Pete, what's up?"

"Hey man, what's up with you? Why'd you blank me today?" his friend snapped.

"Blank you? What? When?" Mitch said, puzzled.

"This morning, you were coming out of a supermarket in The Heights. I blew my horn and waved; you looked up then scuttled away down some alley. You avoiding me, man?"

"No, no, wasn't me, I've been at work all day, haven't been near the Heights."

"Are you sure? It looked exactly like you. I mean, you had a baseball cap pulled down over your face but, man, I was sure it was you."

"Definitely not me."

"Well then you've got an identical twin brother."

"Yeah, handsome devil is he? Anyway, I've been meaning to call you. What do you want for your birthday?"

"Hey, how about one of those Trillian 'bots?" Pete joked.

"Trillian, as in the airhead pop singer?"

"Yeah, haven't you seen the news?"

"No, not yet."

"Well check it out: you know you can now get a replicant maid that looks just like her?"

"Err, really?"

"Man," Pete said exasperated. "You know, you're spending way too much time at work, you really need to watch the news now and again, you know?"

They talked for a few minutes more, before agreeing to meet up for birthday drinks on Friday.

Mitch dished up his chinese takeaway and got a beer from the fridge. Collapsing onto the sofa, he switched on the TV and randomly selected one of the dozens of 'newsertainment' channels.

"And now 'droid news," said a middle-aged male presenter with unnaturally white teeth, slicked back hair and burnt orange skin.

"Have you ever dreamed of having your breakfast served by your favourite movie star? Or your carpet vacuumed by the latest teen pop star? You have? Well, you're not alone. It's the new trend that's sweeping the nation: customized 'bots."

The picture cut to a production line where heads were being fitted to an endless assembly line of replicants.

"Droids are increasingly common in businesses and homes these days but do you really want a maid that looks like everybody else's? A robot butler that's identical to your neighbour's? Well for a few extra Eurodollars you can have a 'droid that looks like your favourite actor, singer or artist," the presenter continued enthusiastically.

He turned to a different camera and rearranged his botoxed features to look more serious.

"But there is a dark side to this new trend. We reported last month how teen singing sensation Trillian had licenced her image to be used on a new range of maid 'bots manufactured by the Tyrell Corporation."

Mitch had heard of Trillian. She was the latest teenage singing sensation: a sassy teenage New Yorker whose overt sexuality and brash, colourful image had recently captured the public's attention. The screen cut to a video of her new single. She writhed and danced energetically to a pumping beat in a school uniform that clung tightly to every curve of her slim, young body.

"What do I gotta do, what do I gotta do to get an A?" she crooned, looking up at the camera as she suggestively sucked a lollipop.

"But now video has surfaced on the internet showing one of the new Trillian 'bots engaged in lewd sexual activity."

The screen cut away to a heavily censored image. Although it was blurred, Mitch could clearly make out what appeared to be Trillian dressed in a maid's uniform giving someone a blowjob. As he watched, the blurry cock withdrew and a male, off-screen voice said: "tell me what you want."

"I want you to (bleep) my (bleep) with your (bleep) Sir," the 'bot said, most of her words replaced with high-pitched tones as she looked up at the camera with her big brown eyes.

Mitch failed to suppress a smile as the camera cut back to the studio.

"I'm now joined by Trillian herself," the presenter said, turning to a young woman angrily chewing gum and dressed in a tightly fitting hot-pink catsuit. "You must be very angry about this."

"Yeah, those bozos at Tyrell promised that the 'bots would be limited to light domestic duties, you know making coffee and unloading the dishwasher and that kind of shit. No funny business. As soon as the owner starts to get fresh, the replicant's supposed to freeze and need a factory reset. That's what they promised in the contract we signed," she said angrily in her strong New York accent.

"Yes, but we understand that the behavior limiter's been overridden by amateur hackers."

"Yeah well hackers or not, my lawyers have been in touch and told them to recall all the faulty models. It's my reputation that's on the line here. I mean, it's degradin'. It's humiliatin'. It's not like I'd ever use that kind of disgusting language," she pouted. "I mean it's fucking unbelievable what's happened."

The presenter smiled uncomfortably, seriously regretting agreeing to a live interview.

"Well we can only hope these hackers are brought to justice quickly. Have you got a message for your fans?"

"Yes, this droid business really isn't my fault. The blame lies with the manufacturers. I just want to concentrate on my singing, and I'd like to remind my loyal fans that my new album's available for download next Wednesday."

"Great, well I'm sure we're all looking forward to hearing that," the presenter said unconvincingly. "Now back to Harriet in the studio."

Mitch finished his beer and chuckled to himself. This girl who traded on her sexuality and sold her image to be used on slavebots was complaining that some of the sad, middle-aged men that bought them were now using them for sex. What a surprise. The world's finally gone mad, he thought as he loaded up the dishwasher.

A few hours later, he checked his mobile before turning in and groaned. A text from Lady Greenham inviting him to an early morning meeting. A bad start to a busy day.

Lady Elizabeth Greenham leant back in her soft, black leather executive chair and scribbled another note on Mitch's report. She was going back through the executive summary again when the desk phone rang.

"It's Mitch Johnson to see you, ma'am," her PA said.

"Okay, wait ten minutes then send him in," she instructed, then turned to stare idly out of the window at the traffic jamming up the city streets a long way below her window.

"Always make 'em wait," her late husband would always say. "Show 'em who's boss."

Outside, her PA Marnie put the phone down and smiled at him.

"She'll see you in ten minutes," she said before turning back to her screen.

Mitch smiled thinly and nodded. Her Ladyship always went through this annoying pantomime of making him wait. She didn't seem to realise that as her head of security he had plenty of things he could be getting on with.

Marnie pretended to be reading an email but couldn't resist glancing over at Mitch. She felt a mixture of emotions whenever she saw him. She felt a little guilty given what she knew about Lady Elizabeth's household staff but also a little flirty. There was something about him that she found very attractive. Maybe it was those dark, intense eyes or his stern, no-nonsense attitude. Or maybe it was just the way his white shirt clung to his chiseled chest

"If only my boyfriend had a body like Mitch's!" she thought wickedly as she chewed the end of her pencil.

The last time she and her boyfriend had made love she'd closed her eyes and imagined it was Mitch on top of her, his lips raining hot kisses on her neck, his taut, muscular buttocks bobbing up and down between her thighs. It was the first time in weeks that she'd had an orgasm, and she felt her cheeks flush at the sudden inappropriate memory. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that he kept glancing at her legs. Naughtily, she crossed them, letting her skirt ride up exposing acres of smooth, pale thigh and felt a little thrill of excitement as she was rewarded with another glance in her direction.

Mitch jiggled his foot impatiently. He'd found himself waiting in this little office more often than he liked. On the plus side, he'd worked out that if he sat on a particular chair at a particular angle he had an excellent view of Marnie's shapely legs.

He slouched in the chair pretending to read through his report but easily distracted as the hem of her skirt inched up her smooth, creamy thighs. It looked like quite a tight skirt. Mitch idly fantasized about bending her over her desk, the skirt stretched tightly over her bottom. Would it be too tight to slide up over her thighs? Or would he have to locate the zipper to remove it? He imagined wriggling her sensible office skirt over her hips and down her longs legs, until it formed a little grey pool around her ankles. What kind of undies would a girl like Marnie wear? Something appropriate for the office; sensible, plain, white cotton knickers? Or something more daring like a racy, lacy, little thong?

His lewd thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of Marnie's phone ringing.

"Lady Elizabeth will see you now, Mitch," she said, getting up from behind her desk and leading Mitch towards Her Ladyship's office.

Her fashionably tight knee-length pencil skirt forced her to take small, child-like steps. Mitch strolled behind her, enjoying the view of her derriere swaying from side-to-side, her buttocks jiggling enticingly under the figure-hugging material.

Mitch had always fancied the slim redhead and if she hadn't been acting so strangely lately he might have made a pass at her. It might have been his imagination but there was something about her attitude towards him that made it seem like she was enjoying some private joke at his expense, laughing at him behind his back.

"Mitch Johnson, ma'am," she said, standing aside to let him pass, then suddenly started giggling, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

"Thanks Marnie, thanks for coming up Mitch," she said, looking up from her desk as her PA exited.

"What's up with her? Did I miss something funny?" he said nodding towards Marnie as he took a seat.

"Oh uh, private joke," she smiled. "Now I've been looking over this report you wrote."

They had recently moved into a new building and Lady Greenham had asked him to review the existing security. It had taken him a couple of weeks and some late nights but he was quite proud of the result.

"Yes?" he said.

"Well it's not quite what I was hoping for."

"You asked me to review the existing security and that's exactly what you have there."

"Well it's not really detailed enough. I also wanted you to provide some recommendations, ideally with costings."

"Well why didn't you ask me then?" he replied, his hands squeezing the chair arms, as he tried to control his temper.

"I did ask you at our meeting last week."

"No you didn't, you said you just wanted a high level security review, you didn't mention any recommendations or costings," he said through clenched teeth.

She leant back in her chair and looked at him coolly.

"Let's not argue Mitch. The fact is I don't have all the information I need so I need you to go away and do this properly."

Mitch clenched his fists around the armrests, his knuckles whitening, then took a deep breath and counted to five, determined not to lose his temper.

"I did do it properly but I'll make those changes if that's what you really want. I can have it for you next week."

"Next week? No, that's no good. I need it on my desk by close of play Friday."

"Friday? Now wait a minute I just don't..."

But she cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Friday, Mitch. Now run along, the sooner you get started the sooner you'll finish."

Marnie smiled at him as he strode out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

"Good meeting Mitch?" she grinned.

He ignored her, maybe she was trying to be nice but it felt like she was laughing at him. He was too annoyed to wait for the lift and he fumed as he ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. If he didn't need this job so much he'd tell her where she could shove her report. Why was she treating him like something she'd stepped in?

Actually, it was no mystery: it had all started when he turned down a date with her. Although she'd asked him over for dinner at her place to discuss some recruitment issues he was pretty sure it wasn't just about business. Well what was he to do? It wasn't that she was unattractive, in fact she well quite good looking for her age. It was just that he was looking for someone more his age (he was twenty-five). It was just as well he hadn't brought up the age difference, maybe it would have made it worse, although it was hard to imagine how.

Elizabeth placed the report in the wastepaper bin and reaching under the desk, switched off the voice recorder and slipped it into her handbag.

"That'll teach him for turning me down," she thought vindictively. "Maybe he thinks he's too good for me. Well think again, Mitch Johnson."

He worked on the report for the rest of the day but soon realised he'd have trouble finishing it by the end of Friday. He called Pete to postpone their drinks until Saturday then dialled the number for Lady Elizabeth's office.

"Hello?" said a voice he immediately recognized as Marnie's.

"Hi Marnie, its Mitch. Can I talk to her?"

"I'm sorry Mitch she's unavailable right now, can I help?"

"Well it's this report. I think it's going to be late on Friday when I finish it so I was thinking maybe I could drop it round to her house on my way home from work, she seemed to want it urgently."

"Her house?" Marnie said, suddenly sounding alarmed. "No, no that's not a good idea."

Was he imagining it or did she sound distinctly nervous?

"I'll check with her when she calls in but I think you'd best leave it on her desk here. Or leave it with me."

"Oh, OK, well I just thought I'd offer, she said she needed it asap but if you think that's best."

"I do, absolutely. Thanks for calling Mitch."

He had to work late on Friday to finish it, and didn't get home till nearly midnight. He lay awake in bed unable to sleep, the thoughts of what had happened over the last couple of days running around his head. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that there was something odd going on. Why did Marnie giggle whenever she saw him? And why was she so anxious about him going round to Her Ladyship's house? After all, he'd been there before. Whatever was going on it had to be something to do with the house. He resolved that next week he had to go round and take a look, just to put his mind at ease.

On Tuesday morning he made an excuse about needing to meet a supplier, checked that Her Ladyship was at her desk then drove round to her house. Well, house wasn't really a suitable word. Lady Elizabeth lived in a huge, sprawling Tudor mansion. He told the butler that answered the intercom that he needed to drop off some papers for Lady Elizabeth. Mitch waited for the huge wrought iron gates to slowly creak open, then drove down the long gravel drive.

He rang the doorbell and waited. He couldn't have been more surprised when the door was answered by his identical twin.

It was like looking in a mirror. Like him, the man was six feet tall with an athletic build, his dark hair trimmed in a neat crewcut. Mitch was at first stunned then relieved to note the one crucial difference, the tattooed barcode on his neck that meant that he was looking at a replicant. Mitch's head spun. Why did Lady Elizabeth have a 'bot that looked just like him? He quickly realised he needed to find out why, and the one of the things he'd learned from his years in the army was how to think on his feet.

"Can I help you Sir?" the butler said impatiently. It didn't seem to notice or care that it was looking at its twin. Mitch thrust his hands into his jacket pockets and found a neatly folded copy of his report.

"Yes, uh, I work for Lady Elizabeth and I, uh, I need to drop off these papers. She told me to leave them in her home office."

The butler extended his hand: "Very well Sir, I can see to that for you".

Mitch snapped his hand back.

"No! No, she insisted I leave it there myself," he said, realising that he was sounding somewhat paranoid. The butler paused, and they stared at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds as each wondered what to do next.

"She really was quite specific. You can always check with her when she comes home," Mitch said helpfully.

"Well I suppose you'd better come in then. Her office is at the top of the stairs, can I get you a glass of water or something?" the replicant said leading him into the grand hallway.

"Yes please, I'll be right back down," Mitch said as he ran up the sweeping hardwood staircase.

Mitch was pleased to see that her desk wasn't a modern type, with its drawers secured by fingerprint-sensors. It was an antique oak desk with old-fashioned key-locks. For someone who'd been in the army then worked in security, the locks on the desk drawers weren't much of a challenge. He worked quickly and methodically through the drawers until he found what he was looking for, an instruction manual for the android. There was a single word "Hawkins" scribbled on the back which he hoped was the password.

He heard the butler calling his name as he memorized the password then put the manual back and re-locked the drawers.

"Sorry I got a bit lost up there, you've got a lot of rooms here, huh?" he said amicably as he walked back down the stairs.

"Indeed Sir," the butler replied, managing to sound unconvinced as he handed Mitch his glass of water.

"Thanks," Mitch said as he took the glass. "Now I want you to enter administrator mode."

The butler looked surprised then simply said "Password?"

"Hawkins," Mitch replied.

The butler paused, and then replied: "Okay I confirm I'm in administrator mode, what can I do for you, Sir?"

Mitch smiled triumphantly then he led the butler back up the stairs; administrator mode was for use by service engineers and gave him complete control but only temporarily.

"Okay, number one: you won't tell anyone I was here today. When Lady Elizabeth comes home you'll act normally and mention nothing about this."

"Yes Sir," the butler replied as Mitch led him into the large bathroom and shut the door behind them.

"Number two: take off all your clothes."

Whilst he waited, he looked around. It was a modern bathroom with large, frosted windows, one corner dominated by a large automated shower. He shook his head at the surprising turn of events. When he'd had woken up that morning, he didn't imagine that by 3 o'clock he'd be using his mobile to take photo's of a naked replica of himself.

"This is easily the most surreal thing I've ever done," he thought as he took a close-up of the replicant's face.