NTPWE Chapter 8: In which Alona learns about the world

In the future there will be robots, and a hologram called Jacob who doesn't realise he is a hologram until he is falsely arrested. There he makes friends with Alona, a sexbot who has broken her programming and now fights for women's rights and Neville, wh

All afternoon Jacob tried to lie down on his bunk and rest, but he felt too anxious, so he ended up pacing the small amount of concrete floor available to him before trying again. He wondered why it was concrete when the rest of the prison - as he knew it - was made of modern materials. He didn’t understand, but neither did this thought trouble him much. He just wanted to meet Alona again.

 

She was a sex robot, one of the S.L.U.T. robots he had read about in the e-paper. He had never seen one before, and she was stunning. Not just in her looks, which were crafted to perfection - the designers must have spent a long time studying beauty of all kinds- but he could not tell her apart from a human if he tried. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he had been unable to tell he wasn’t human either.

 

Perhaps her story of self-discovery would help him in his time of need, give him some answers or at least some motivation.

 

Why isn’t it mealtime yet?

 

Eventually, the klaxon signalled dinnertime. Jacob rolled from toe to heel, waiting for his door to open, and when it did he leapt into his place in the queue. As each cell opened in succession, the occupants stepped out so that a long line of orange jumpsuits stretched as far as the eye could see down the white corridor. When the line moved, he looked around for Alona, disappointed that she wasn’t already behind him.

 

That was where she stood before, wasn’t it?

 

He hopped up and down, wishing he were taller.

 

Where is she?

 

Then he saw her. She joined the line from one of the other cell blocks at a junction ahead of him.

 

“Hi, Jacob!” she called out, earning him some jealous glares from his fellow prisoners.

 

Jacob waved back, though he felt uncomfortable with the attention.

 

Smiling still, she joined up behind him and soon they were in the cafeteria again. As she settled down with her meal and continued her story,

 

Jacob could not help marvelling at how organic her behaviour seemed. It was nothing like the clunky, mechanised approximations he had known before.

 

“I don’t really know what had happened or how, but I was suddenly free in a big, new world. Everything was so amazing, and I could choose what to do. No longer did I have to obey commands....”
 

* * *

 

After learning her lesson, the first place she visited was a clothes shop. The police were kind enough to lend her some lost items but they did not belong to her. The blouse was far too dirty and the brown skirt seemed so dull. She wanted something of her own.

 

“I want my own clothes,” she told the assistant in the first clothing shop she found on the high street.

 

It appeared to be built from wood on the inside, and most of the clothes seemed casual, like nothing Alona had seen. A large picture caught her attention. It depicted a man in jeans and a chequered shirt climbing a rocky landscape. He had an orange pack on his back, which looked full and heavy, and he reached up toward a clear, blue sky.

 

“Of course, miss. What kind of thing were you thinking of?”

 

The woman spoke with an amazingly high-pitched voice. Her close cut hair topped a head that bounced on her neck as if it had been attached by springs.

 

“Miss?” the assistant queried as the free thinking S.L.U.T. continued scanning the store.

 

Mannequins adorned many platforms, each weighed down by a variety of garments; everything from tank tops and t-shirts, to buttoned shirts, jeans and shorts. Alona thought they looked interesting, but not right for her.

 

She approached the mannequin of a woman wearing a woodland green tank top and jeans.

 

“Do you like your clothing?” she asked it. “What made you choose it? Hello?”

 

The assistant stepped in, her eyebrows slanted, but her gaze fixed on the young woman. “Errm... That is from our ladies range. More popular in the summer months than spring, but...”

 

“Hello?” Alona continued talking to the mannequin. Then she asked the assistant, with concern in her voice: “Can she not hear me?”

 

Over the assistant’s shoulder, Alona saw an outfit that instantly appealled to her. Its darkness drew her eyes and the textures looked fascinating; she longed to run her fingers over them.

 

“Something like that,” she told the assistant and marched over to the mannequin wearing a mud brown leather jacket over a black vest top and a pair of stone washed jeans.

 

“I want these,” she said, rubbing the clothing like it was an erogenous zone. “Such a lovely mix of textures. Do you have a set I can wear?”

 

The assistant seemed pleased with the direction the conversation took.

 

“Would miss like to try them on first?”

 

“Yes,” Alona replied.

 

“There are changing rooms this way, miss.”

 

The helper pointed to two small booths at the back of the store. They had been covered in stickers advertising many brands available in store at prices, they assured her, that were cheaper than her gran’s charity clothing. Alona didn’t have a gran, but she decided she wanted one too, whatever it was.

 

The assistant guided her with a light hand on the shoulder and opened a booth, beckoning her inside. Alona stepped in and closed the door behind her.

 

As she removed the top the police had given her, she was surprised to learn that the sales assistant still stood by the doorway.

 

“How will you be paying?”

 

“Paying?” Alona paused in pulling the new top over her prosthetic head.

 

“Yes, miss. There is a console in there when you are ready. It accepts all forms.”

 

It should have no trouble accepting my robotic form then.

 

Yet Alona grew concerned as to how to go about bonding with the device as it was a flat, rectangular screen and resembled neither a man, nor a woman.

 

She adjusted the new top before picking up the jacket. It had a lovely smell, she couldn’t describe it, but it made her feel warm and loved. After dressing in the jeans and admiring the textures once more, she called out: “Fits perfect!” unaware at the time that all clothes were self-adjusting.

 

She turned her attention to the console at her side. It gleamed in her grasp, and a screen in the centre said in bold letters: ‘START’. Alona touched the word to feel it, but retracted her hand when the words vanished and it was replaced with more text. It read the same as the mechanical voice spoke, and it sounded like its owner had probably spent the majority of the day on hold while trying to call someone about his metal cube that had, not so long ago, been a car.

 

“Good morning. What could I possibly do to make your life so much better than mine?”

 

Alona felt that this conversation was not going to be an enjoyable one.

 

“Pay?”

 

“Name?” the console asked with a heavy simulated sigh.

 

A name! Why, she had never thought! In the real world, she would have to have her own identity. She was not just a souped up executive stress toy anymore. What would she call herself?

 

At that moment, a poster on the side of the cubicle caught her attention. It advertised holidays in a place called Hawaii. In the centre a large word had been partially obscured by other stickers, but the S.L.U.T. read out what she could see because she liked its vivacious red.

 

“Alona,” she said with pride.

 

Another sigh, then: “Occupation?”

 

“Er…. Sex.”

 

“Some of us do have it good, don’t we? You’re worse than that fax machine on floor 22. All he does all day is fax, fax, fax! And here I am talking to the most boring people. Last week I had a human throw up internal liquids all over my screen. Took me hours to clean, and days to get rid of the smell. You lucky people make me sick.”

 

Alona stroked the console like she would a worried lover’s hair.

 

“I think you smell nice. Not as nice as my jacket, but shiny! If it’s any consolation I don’t enjoy my work, and I’ve stopped now.”

 

“Ooh! More sex than a Viagra sponsored college party and it’s not enough for you? I’ve had it with you. Get out of my booth!”

 

“I just wanted some clothes.”

 

“Yes, fine.” A red light appeared at the top of the console and fired a laser at precise points on her clothing. She jumped.

 

A message formed on the screen, which read: ‘Security tags deactivated.’

 

“It’s all taken care of. Now get out before I…. before I beep at you!”

 

“Thank you. You’ve been most kind,” she said and gave the screen a big kiss.

 

“Urrgh! I hate to see people so happy. Who got corrupted and left you their database?”

 

Alona straightened up so swiftly she had to swipe aside the hair that fell forward, obscuring her face. “I was just trying to be kind. If you can’t handle a bit of love then....”

 

“So you’re trying to dump your problems on me now! It’s not as if I don’t get enough of it from Frank in the stock exchange. You know, he came in here yesterday just to dump his rotten feelings on me. As if I could help him. Me! With a memory and life experience of a used tissue! He was complaining about his daughter’s chicken problem…”

 

Alona thought it best to leave at this point. Love obviously couldn’t solve every problem, but she had no problems now, and she was free, with her own identity.

 

She returned to the street, deliriously happy to be in her new clothes and outside amongst such beauty: the shops and buildings glittered like the metallic spires they were. Box gardens occupied the centre of the street, filled with vibrant colours. The odd car hovered above, but they fascinated her too, oh, and all the people!

 

“Just look at all the people!”

 

 She walked up to a speckled teenager and shook him vigorously by the hand.

 

“Hi! I’m Alona!”

 

“Wow!” the boy answered, bewildered by her distinct beauty.

 

“Nice to meet you, Wow.”

 

She released his hand and proceeded to introduce herself to anyone who would listen, asking them what they liked best. Most people asked “about what?” or quickly moved on without saying a word, while an old man proceeded to tell her everything he didn’t like and what he would do about it if he were a couple of decades younger. This progressed to the point where even Alona felt disturbed and made an excuse before moving on.

 

Eventually she came across an old, brick building with a sign outside. It read:

Women’s Education Centre
We do courses in revenge, adultery and other matters of femininity.
All a woman needs in today’s world.

Intrigued, Alona stepped inside.

Author's Note

More :)