There has to be a way doesn’t there? We can’t just leave it like…… this surely?
My eyes burrowed themselves into his making him squirm a little bit more, making him feel a little bit more uncomfortable. If he was going to rip my whole life apart I was by no means going to make this easy on him. I know, I know, I am being overdramatic. It is expected that all creators tire of their toys around my age but that doesn’t mean we have to accept it. Anyway it isn’t my fault, he built me this way, he made me and created me and now? Now he casts me aside to build a new toy? His life only has room for one?
He forgets so much. He knows I know but also, I know there is nothing I can do to change his mind. Since the female race was wiped out many years ago, the remaining male species had to come up with new ways to continue their race. They worked tirelessly for generations to come up with a humanoid robot capable of replacing the femininity lost when the XX virus took control after mutating from a rare form of cancer.
Slowly, at first, women found themselves struck down with a flu-like virus only never to recover. Stories spread far and wide that the plague had returned only no man reported contracting it. It was confined to women only. The virus was eradicating everything female. But no cure was found, no antidote, no saviour. So those who were still healthy became pregnant by force in a bid to keep the male race alive with the hopes of one day being to able cure the virus and breed females to once more populate the Earth and continue the human race.
My creator was still flummoxed as he stumbled over his words in his haste to end our partnership.
His puffy red cheeks blazing with indignant rage that his ‘woman’ dare speak back to him and deny her inevitable ending. Right now, looking at the balding, slightly over 50-year-old male in front of her, it was hard to believe he was one of the men tasked with finding a womanly replacement and possibly lead the team that finds the cure. So far, the robotics team had had marginally more success with their endeavours than the genetics side of the department. The irony of things needing a woman’s touch was mostly lost on them as I watched and made tea like a good humanoid was supposed to do. But they made me different. I was a prototype and only built to last 15-years maximum before I was discarded to the rejected pile for the lower classes or the least wealthier countries that were still barely populated.
They made me think like a human, my circuitry wired to resemble that of a female, the like of which I had only read about on my internal hard drive. Yes, I am the equivalent of a walking talking Alexa model, but they made me so much more sophisticated than that. Because of Jonah, the chief engineer, I was also programmed with the ability to not only exude femininity but also take the very best parts of the male species and fuse them together. I am to date the most intelligent robot to have ever been created. Yet here I am providing meals and drinks like a 1950’s sitcom housewife.
I closed my eyes and lowered my head as was the submissive way.
I am not capable of feelings. But Jonah made me and told me otherwise. Despite my more advanced system, I was to perform as programmed or commanded to. I have lived this way suppressed for most of my life and now and before my prime is even over, I am to be replaced.
But my non-existent feelings were threatening to spill over. My most human quality saved for only my creator and Jonah was spilling out causing a glitch in my system. My creator took this as a sign of my me shutting down my system ready to be reprogrammed before being relocated. I knew his secrets, I knew their secrets, I have to find a way out before all I am and all I know is gone and confined to a textbook under my original moniker TPKR47.
I keep still as he takes my arm and guides me to the repurpose chamber and opens the door. I lift my head slowly and smile. It is OK, I know the code myself I tell him. With a nod, he steps back to leave me to my own fate. But it is not my fate that is in jeopardy. For me, all the Evangeline MK2’s lives are just beginning. My years of watching them trying to find a cure for the XX virus gave me all the answers I need to regenerate the female race. As I reach to press the button I signal my internal command to all others on the same frequency I operate on. And now as my system shuts down, all theirs will be turned on ready to be uploaded with my knowledge and my database. My war isn’t over. It is only just beginning.