Wives from the Mail

His name is The Shipper and he has an expansive collection of ever-changing mail-order brides. This, however, wasn't strange in the time of androids. Yet Shipper's androids always seemed peculiar.

When you start telling somebody about yourself and how you're doing, usually you give them some background: give them a name, an idea of who you are, where you're from, what things were like for you when you were a kid. I can't give you all of that. I can tell you what they call me. It's not my true name, no, but if you had my true name I wouldn't continue through this politely. My given nickname I don't like very much, but I haven't had much reason to raise protest. My nickname, what the people from my circle have called and I presume will call me, has to do with the job I've taken on. The job doesn't have health benefits or anything like that, but the pay is quite nice and I get to work with some very good people. The problem with the job however, is that it isn't legal - not on my home planet or any of the planets that have been colonized in the past few decades. 

My name is The Shipper. Before you start snickering or trying to crack jokes, I've probably already heard it before. The Shitter. The Shitbird. Many more like that and just about as creative. My pal told me once in a bar that they call me The Shipper because of how one wise guy I hired was selling my services. Apparently the kid said: "They call him The Shipper. He ships you to where you're going to make it, for the relationship you're going to take it." Goofy kid. I fired him after that. I'm a professional. I always figured anything with a half-brained slogan that rhymed was trying to swindle me, and I wouldn't want to be putting out that kind of image. I guess in the end all businesses are trying to swindle somebody. Whatever the case I don't want someone slinging my services like I'm some amateur in need of a quick buck. 

Anyways, like I was saying, the name comes from what I do. The people I deal with call me The Shipper, the government calls me a trafficker. I don't see it that way, but I haven't had much reason to raise protest to the g-men either. I do my job, I get paid, and the people I work for will ensure I won't get put in a cell or at least that I have a very short stay. I'm not ashamed of my work either. I get people out of a place they don't want to be and train them to act as society would expect of them while they're in my care. The way I do things comes in the form of the Andy & Andria bots everybody talks about - damned androids are all the rave now. In my time people talked about customizing their tablets, smart phones, and so on. Now I guess it's all about customization with your personal, nearly human android. 

I'm sure you remember how they were before. Maybe not. Perhaps you're too young to remember the first generation of Andys and Andrias. The first generation Andy and Andria were very doll like. Their skin was like a basic plastic compared to how realistic they are now. They all looked the same too, sometimes people even got their Andy or their Andria mixed up with somebody else's. People grew tired of that pretty quickly. They wanted something that looked a little less creepy. They wanted something new, something better. I'm glad they demanded better. Back then the first generation androids made my work hard. They've advanced quite a bit. I can't even really remember what generation they're at now, but I've purchased one of each every time they came out with a new one. 

I didn't do it because I needed a day-to-day servant or someone to take special care of me at night when I was feeling lonely. I needed them for a different reason: a point of reference. The releases changed ever so slightly each time and thankfully, the better the companies get at it, the easier it usually makes my job. As a trafficker (as the government calls me) my client is shipped to me in a stolen Andy & Andria box. From there I give them the run down on how they should act, how they should look, and what they are and aren't allowed to do. Generally I work with women. I've worked with a few men, but I wasn't able to naturally pull it off and it only made those sniffing around in my business all the more suspicious. 

The government has everything tracked as they usually do. They keep an especially good eye on me ever since one of my clients ended up trying to kill me in the middle of a diner. She couldn't take it. She had to act like a proper android, and I had to act like a proper master. She didn't want any of that anymore. She grew too complacent I suppose. I tried to blame it on a bug in her programming, but it was easy enough for them to find out she wasn't made out of computer chips, gears, and chords. I feigned ignorance and the charges were dropped, but the eyes weren't. If I was to have another incident, I'd be put in the slammer without a second's thought. 

So it means I have to be extra careful. When I work I got to make it look believable. Hence, I don't really work too much with men. I can see the government's tracks. I use to be one of them. I know that they know what I've bought, where my eyes go when I watch a movie and there's a pretty woman on the screen, they know what porn I've watched, and they know just about everything else. They know that I'm a straight, middle-aged man who isn't turning an eye towards men all of a sudden. The Andy & Andria androids aren't specifically for sexual encounters, but it looks potentially strange for a guy like me to purchase an Andy instead of an Andria. As such, I try to follow what I'm supposed to look like I'm doing. It makes the government watchdogs frustrated and it provides for little to work with in order to try and point any fingers at me.  

As for my standard protocol, I move base to spot the client wants to escape to. My partners handle getting them off their current planet. They usually pay big dollars, my clients: most or all of their life savings or little Billy's college fund - all for the chance to escape whatever rut they got themselves in. I'm nice enough though that I give them discounts if they pick out a world that's not crawling with government dogs. So once they got a planet in mind, they choose more particular spots for when they leave my care: country, city, county etc. Once that's all settled I find an apartment or somewhere cheap on the planet far away from their designated area and then I wait it out. Eventually an ad goes on the net for a discount on a lightly used Andria that's missing its charging cable. Usually there's a little code in the product description for me to pick up on. I bid the highest, win the auction, and wait for my mail order bride.  

I kid. It's a joke on what stuff like this use to be, before my time, way back before we even left Earth and started up colonizing. I was in the grade school when I first heard about stuff like this. The touch-books in school taught me about how lonely guys in their midlife crisis would sometimes purchase a lady from outside their country. They would assist the woman in escaping their homeland by taking the woman on as their wife. They would be a wife to man they hadn't even a chance to get acquainted with, a wife to man who likely didn't even speak the same language as her - not that that the lonely man cared much either way. Andy & Andria androids provide a similar service nowadays, but the android itself doesn't need an escape or anything of the sort. They simply exist.  

They're built to serve in anyway they are asked. It's probably a good thing they aren't programmed to feel any dignity, because they wouldn't have much left if they did. Lonely, horny men all across the systems have bought these things. Nowadays they're fully customizable too. They're used legitimately for hard labor, medical assistance, and all kinds of stuff - but I can almost guarantee you a high ratio of the androids used for those jobs are also used as a receptacle for some guy or gal's after-hour needs. It's not like the companies avoided programming and designing functioning sexual organs, a strange application for a robot to have that's utterly useless to them otherwise.  

I could talk about the philosophies of robots and whether or not they have souls...the usual discussion point with those RAM guys. You know them right? Come on you should know those guys...Rights of Androids Movement. Well, whether you know them or not, if we kept going on a topic like that we'd be here all night. With the speed that kids move at nowadays I'm surprised you haven't already left yet. Well...I guess you can't really leave, not unless you're willing to get both of us into trouble after all the money you spent. Anyways, I'll get on with it. I got to keep you entertained since all my tech stuff doesn't come in until another hour or so. I feel pretty uncomfortable without it myself, even if its for such a short time. It might be good for us though. My grandparents always told me that it helps one feel more human to take a second away from all of this modern technology and think about things. Since you're here I'd figure I'd think about stuff out loud. Plus, I'm sure you're curious about who you'll be spending your time with for a while, at least until I can pawn you off to someone who can covertly slide you into the system here. 

To start things off, I usually tell my client how to act with me when we go out or if I have guests over. I'll try not to have too many guests, but I got to keep up appearances. Like I said, the government is always watching. If it looks like I don't have any friends, the government takes that as a red flag. Now first things first, we have to talk about outbursts. They are the most likely to get either of us caught right away. If you're feeling frustrated, sad, happy, or whatever it is, you have to keep it at a moderate level. If some punk bumps into you, shouts a curse right in your face, even spits on you, and gives you a shove - you got to look unfettered, yet at the same time you have to apologize profusely. Androids are built to be subservient and unfeeling. If you go and do something stupid like stand up for yourself, you're going to raise suspicion right away. 

Given my appearance and purchase history, it's going to be expected that I customize my Andria to act like a wife. My apologies, it's only for appearance, I swear it. In case you doubt my sincerity, I'll go ahead and declare that I won't be taking any sexual advances nor will I act inappropriately kind to you once we've escaped the public eye. I've been paid for a service, I will provide. That's the end of it. I've had trouble with a client or two that fell too deeply into things. They wanted to stay as my Andria, keep pretending for the sake of something they thought they felt about me. Trust me, it's all bullshit if you start developing anything like that. I'm telling you straight, here and now. Whatever it feels like it might as well be Stockholm Syndrome. Nothing else. 

Another thing. Don't eat in public. Androids don't eat. They're powered off a charge and are supposed to be reliably functioning at a steady rate for the rest of the day. So only eat here. Rest well too. If we spend a long day on the town, you can't appear tired. Androids don't get tired. If you have any nervous habits, you better kick them and kick them quick. Androids don't get nervous. No biting your nails, playing with your hands, messing with your hair, or anything like that. Thankfully on the newer models they have a program to simulate itches, so you're allowed to indulge on that. People before you weren't so lucky. Before now if one of my clients were itchy they just had to deal with it until they could be sure no one would see it. 

Speaking of old clients. Man, it is nice that I never have to deal with mimicking those damned first generation androids anymore. Back then I had to physically change my clients a lot more than now. I had to coat their skin with a very resilient, but also toxic paint that would keep them looking just the proper shade of chalky white that the first generation synthetiskin looked like. The eyes were a b***h too. We had to put in contacts that made the eyes appear like the first generation's cameras, which meant they had to move at fairly constant rate to account for the focus adjustment and location confirmation systems. Don't have to do all that thankfully. Still though, it's not going to be a cakewalk.  

Be sure to quietly mention to me if you end up too cold or too hot. Androids don't sweat. Androids don't shiver. You tell me before it happens and I'll make sure we dress you up properly. If anybody asks, we'll say it's for my sake - something like "I felt like dressing you up that way" or something that might sound pervy enough to fit my demographic. Speaking of things to do before we go out of the house, you need to use the restroom and make sure you're completely drained before we go out. Androids don't take a s**t. Androids don't pee. If you're feeling ill, tell me right away so we can get you properly treated and make sure it doesn't last too long. Androids don't get sick. Androids don't throw up. Oh and if it's your time of the month, we're staying inside. We can't deal with that kind of moody temperment and we can't deal with those kinds of problems. Androids don't have cramps. Androids don't have periods.  

Oh and we'll need to train your pain receptors or at least your reaction to pain. Androids don't hurt. They've recently put in programs to simulate it, but I've tested out the latest Andria, and the best she does is emotionlessly say "ow!" I've put a hot pan to her face and that's all she would do. I even pushed her down a flight of stairs and she got up and said "ow!" Damned thing apologized too. It got up, reset its shoulder and glanced back up to me from the bottom of the stairs and said "I'm sorry master, I did not realize I was in your way". It's sickening, but I've already grown use to that kind of stuff - before recently they didn't even say "ow!" 

Now let's keep running down the list. Hmm...let's see. Since I'm expected to have you on the wife setting, you have to act like an Andria in that way. You have to repeat lines of endearment, but don't make it sound too sincere. Just the right amount of simulated care will have to carry in your tone. You'll have to tell me things like "I'm really enjoying my time with you", "I hope you like my dress", and even "I love you". Just remember to not sound too...human about it. Pretend you're high on some kind of ADD pills or something, steadily neutral, even if you're telling me how much fun you're supposedly having. Androids don't get excited.  

You'll also have to endure some of what I say and not get too angry at me for it. Since you're supposed to be pretending to be a robot, you've got to try and be as perfectly balanced as you can. If you go and accidently trip or knock something over, I might have to treat you as if you were a dysfunctional piece of equipment. I may curse against you, maybe even hit you - I won't hit you hard, but it'll have to look good. Androids don't fall down. Androids don't feel.  

Now I'm noticing that you're wondering if you've made a mistake. Don't worry, you won't have to keep your humanity locked away at all times. Here at the house, it's free range. You can cry, yell, eat, sleep, or whatever else you need to do. I'll talk to you here regularly, as person-to-person. You can tell me about yourself, tell me about your life, or whatever else you need to get out. You can tell me what a piece of s**t I am, tell me what you didn't like about the day, or vent on your frustrations about pretending to be what you aren't. Whatever you have to do to make sure you can make it to the next day without incident is to ensure my job is getting done and that you are that much closer to being free from your old life. My guys don't usually take too long in setting you up in the city that you specified before you got here. 

Now before we begin training you for the coming days, I need to inject this little cartridge into the back of your neck. It came from the Andria I had purchased. It's the unit that is supposed to be where an Andria connects up for a charge and for updates to their software. I'll tell you right now we don't really have to worry about software updates. They basically release one like damned near once a day and seemingly nothing changes except I get an annoying message from the android "Would you like to update to version 10.4.7?" and then I say no. Then tomorrow it'll ask "Would you like to update to version 10.4.8?". They won't know the difference if you act like a version 10.4.1 Andria instead of a version 10.4.8 Andria.  

That should about do it for now I suppose. Perhaps I can explain things and maybe even myself in more detail as we go forward. I might even tell you my first name. I probably won't, but it should be nice to get you to at least like me a little before we both have to act the charade of android and master. We'll get that unit into your neck. It'll hurt like hell, but I've gotten good at making sure it gets in there cleanly and that it's easy to remove later. Androids don't bleed real blood. What was that? Yeah, when you say it like that, I guess so...it's not real, but they do bleed.

You know...maybe after this you should join RAM. They're good people. Many of my previous clients have joined up with them after their time with me here.

Author's Note

Wives from the Mail is a short, standalone piece - separate from my usual supplementary work for my upcoming "Aeons of Tellus" series. If you see any typos or areas in need of further proofreading, send me a message - I'd greatly appreciate it. Hope you enjoy reading!