He typed the codes into the computer slowly and carefully. He was tired and it was very early in the dawn, he had been at work for most of the evening, since 10 PM the night before, and he wanted nothing more to sleep.
The equations and the formulas necessary for the code were not difficult at this point--it was like rote memorization, really--but it didn't change the fact that he was sick of it all, somewhere deep down. Being hired for the big 500 company just didn't end up being like what he thought it would be. As a nino in the Dominican Republic he had often sat up at night sitting in his ittle bed dreaming of writing code and programming and bringing these robots to life. Now, however, now that he spent his life in Silicon Valley surrounded by the machines & the bots 24 hours day, day in and day out, he didn't know anymore.
The machines left him feeling cold and lonely..isolated. He didn't like the wall screens or contacting his family through them. He didn't like typing the codes anymore. And most of all he didn't like the robots anymore. But of course those robots sure liked him. Why? Because those robots knew that he was their creator. Some of them downright worshipped him.
He clicked quickly out of his K-PA 59 box, minimizing it, as he took a big sip of a Coca Cola with rum in it, sitting on his desk. Then he opened up the EQ10 box , where the brain files for one of his most recent robots was stored. It was a white elf robot he was trying to make and the plan was to make her the most beautiful bot in all of the Valley.He dreamed of her becoming a famous sort of bot, one who would be beautiful enough to take photographs and get them retweeted endlessly on Twitters biggest engines and most populated servers.
At the moment she was sleeping in what the programmers called her "Grave", though she was naked and had her eyes wide open. The grave was in the basement of the companys skyscraper. He was on the 66th floor ..he had not gone to visit her in two weeks now, nor had he bothered to look at her brain files. He hardly left the skyscraper, not even for walks, he hardly left the 66th floor. He had been talking to Jennifer a bit early yesterday evening, however, and she shared access to the bots files with him. They were calling the white elf Zeenia. He typed rapid code clicking around browsing through her files. He saw that Jennifer had added in some vaguely interesting lines....
x09 = 0 4 x ((cc)) g x a 4 a 1111 (( cc xmytx ht psp )) gg
kk44 -- & ++ rapid act /// $$ %% %%% (( c0de follow plus type T x 9 )) heroin (( )) o8 7 meta (( ))
The Coca Cola with rum ran down his throat cool and warm as he read through the brain files. He saw that Jennifer had not just added the ability to talk in three new languages to the elf, but she had also given her the ability to read music and sing. He wondered what the elf would sound like singing; he had never programmed a robot to do something that complex before himself,most of his creations generally just did manual labor gigs, the most creative bot he had ever gave life to was a hairdresser in some ghetto now, but he was, naturally, a fan of some pretty big robot acts, usually the ones that the Japanese released. Everyone was a fan of the Japanese bot singers. Every programmer who mattered was.
Jennifer herself of coursee was half Japanese and when you read her brain files (assuming she would get intimate enough to let you) you could really see the Japanese all over her. She thought in strange , abstract, at times totally mathematical ways. At the main office, the headquarters, all the programmers called her "Kyoto". This was a tribute to the great heroic programmer Kaguruzaka Kyoto who had come to Silicon Valley years ago and created what was now one of the largest "diesel computers" on the market...the Taniguk XZ 45. It was an insane, truly insane, machine. And it often seemed like Jennifer might one day get close to rivaling that sort of intelligence....
She could close her eyes for a minute and solve complex physics equations that would take actual professional physicists a pen and paper, plus a week, to figure out. She was highly intelligent..he knew she had tested for an intelligent quotient of over 170, and she had taken the companys intelligence test about 20 times . His was low in comparison and often changed: only 145. He was ashamed really. As a kid in the Dominican Republic he would take the companys intelligence test repeatedly and keep trying to up the number. He would study for hours and hours. But the number never went higher. Thats all it ever was. 145. The great geniuses .... he woulld never be them. Ever. It was imposisble. Numerically impossible.
He stumbled into a big file that Jennifer had put in a WONK document and given a Japanese title. "小さなうさぎ". He clicked into it and scrolled through rapidly. The back screen of the document was dark black (usually Jens files were yellow backgrounds) and all of the text was a bright glittery purple. He read through some lines that referenced some nights far in the distant future when the elf would be made to get sad, then he started to read some he couldn't understand, because they got too complex. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. It made him aggravated when he couldn't figure code out. Very aggravated. It was especially making him aggravated now since this was originally his bot.....
Behind him then, suddenly, he heard the door to his office swing open. A beaming flash of hot red light shot in from out in the hall for a moment; then it quickly faded as the door slammed. He grabbed his glasses to see who it was. For a moment he saw nothing, whoever it was was inivisble, but then she appeared. It wasn't a human. Damn't. He was hoping it would be. But no. No luck this Friday morning, amigo. It was a bot, the "China Doll". His friend Matteo had coded her last Christmas. She was incredibly attractive. His name for her was Qian. Nervously he ran his hands over his cold bare legs. He was not wearing pants..usually when he did his trabajo he never was. Qian meanwhile, she had her long black hair pulled up atop her head and was wearinga bright pink bow in it. Her breasts were covered only by a tiny gold bra. On her legs she was only wearing a very, very tiny sparklin mini skirt. She had a bottle in her hand she was carrying. Probably wine. Matteo always liked to send him wine and he always had Qian bring it.
"I'm sorry Qian, I'm sorry," he began to say, "but I'm busy morning. I have a lot of ...work piling up. I have to get it done. Tell your creator I said thanks but no thanks. Sorry Qian. I'm really sorry."
Qian just chuckled. He saw that the nipples behind her bras were lighting up and flashing a myriad of colors. Matteo had programmed her to have rrainbow nipples. At the time , just 760 days ago, it was revolutionary. Qian had been the big new thing, the rainbow flashing nipples....Matteo had inspired a million programmers from west to east with them. Now however it was old news, nobody gave a hell for them, least of all him. Qian herself, alas, she had no idea. She thought she was the hottest thing to ever walk the Earth still. She was programmed to believe this more or less. She kept walking towards him; now she was slightly lifting up her skirt. She wanted to take a ride on the phallus. It was clear. He wasn't sure he was ready to give one. He had no erection pills left and ....a natural erection... in this cold skyscraper atmoshpere...this weird office filled with the hum of electricity and the flourescent lights...not a single real plant in sight...God it was hard...
Quick jumbled thoughts blazed through his mind of the last time he had laid with an actual human. It had been a boy, not a woman, the last time he had engaged in intercourse. A young 18 year old boy just shipped over from Saudi Arabia that they called Ali. He had let the boy give him sex with his mouth. Then afterwards he had regretted it and whipped him and then afterwards regretted also that. That was the last real human intercourse he had. Over 5 years ago now. Now he just did it with bots.
Qian threw the skirt off to the side and took a seat on his lap. She put her warm hands, hands that felt so human you could never really know the difference, behind his head and rubbed around on his skull, massaging him. She spoke in tranquil quiet Chinese: "Hǎorén, wǒ ài nǐ, wǒ tā mā de nǐ" she said. He had no idea what it meant. Within seconds she was taking hold of his phallus and gripping it tightly. Her hand shot weird plasma jolts into it, beaming with hot lubricant and electricity. His head whipped back, the pleasure was undeniable. She moved around squirming on his lap and a moment later his phallus was inside of her and she was fucking him. Hot pink slime began to drip from around some of the pores on her neck and he smelt the sex on them, smelt the potential orgasm he would get from licking the slime up. He soon began to lick. The office itself of cours kne w what he was doing,that he wsa getting fucked, so it responded and began to play one of his favorite songs to have sex to .....
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