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From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} New: Meeting of the Board (M/Fembot, Fembot/Fembot, M-'bot/Fembot, SciFi, asfr)
Date: Sun,  5 Aug 2001 20:10:04 -0400
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MEETING OF THE BOARD

By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://DB_Story.home.att.net )

Copyrightc 2001 by DB.

ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, Fembot/Fembot, M-'bot/Fembot, SciFi)

(This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended 
for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, 
and whatever passes for adult status in other countries.  If you 
are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view 
such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not 
continue.  This is not for you.

(The only rights granted are to view this story.  You are not 
allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story 
without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites.

(To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to 
this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted 
material, please contact me first at the above email.)

- - -

Author's Note: This story was actually written several years ago, 
well before any of the other stories I've posted up until now.  I 
never found a [paying] market for it otherwise, and rather than 
leaving it lying around on a dusty track on my hard drive, I'm 
sharing it here.

A special thanks to Gorgo and others for their excellent and much 
appreciated proofreading.  All remaining mistakes are mine.

- - -

Too many things are invented by geniuses and used by fools.  A 
fool can be a limited fool; smart in many areas, but foolish in 
some.  And there's no fool like an arrogant fool.  I was that 
fool, and my downfall from it might well come in these next few 
hours.

I paced around my office.  I realized what I was doing, stopped, 
then found myself doing it again.  I fingered the remote in my 
pocket for the seeming hundredth time.  Press its button twice in 
quick succession and the kill field would be activated.  It had 
been tested in secret a dozen times without fail and was wired 
into all three possible meeting rooms.  It didn't help me feel 
any better.  Half an hour until the scheduled start of the 
meeting.  Suddenly, my office door burst open and in strode a 
most familiar figure.

Patricia looked exactly as I remembered her.  The protests behind 
her of, "Wait!  You can't just go in there like that . . ." were 
completely drowned out as she quickly shut the office door and 
twisted the lock, before turning again to face me.

She would always be exactly as I remembered her.  Standing five-
nine barefoot (then add heels), she had the height of a model, 
and the looks to go with it.  Long wavy brunette hair.  High 
cheek bones and clear eyes on a stunning face.  The fully formed, 
yet not exaggerated, body of a perfect twenty-eight year old 
woman.  Someone just to be seen with riding around in your car or 
hanging on your arm in the trendiest restaurants and discos.  The 
first time I saw the sketches, I had called her an up-and-comer's 
wet dream.  The reality of her was even better.

"Hello, lover," she smiled at me.

Time stalled, until I realized the phone on my desk was ringing. 
 In a distracted manner, I looked over my shoulder and spoke the 
keyword, "Answer."

"I couldn't stop her, Mr. Delftman, and now your door's locked.  
Is everything all right?"

"It's okay, Clara.  I'll deal with it.  Thanks."

There was a click as it disconnected from the other end.  I 
turned back and saw Patricia had removed her shoes and blouse, 
and was sliding her skirt down impossibly ideal tanned legs.  
Only a bra and panties remained.  I was surprised at the 
lingerie, and must have shown it.

"Just like a real woman, Dan.  What do you think?"

She pirouetted, showing that flawless body that I knew too well, 
and which only visited me now in my nightmares.

As she turned back to face me, I decided to take a long shot with 
her.  "Override code Alpha Seven Delta Phi . . ."

"Oh, Dan," she laughed with a bright smile on her face.  "We 
changed our access codes long ago.  But it's good to see that you 
have some spunk left in you."  She frowned for a moment as she 
added, "Don't even think of trying that with Tawney, though.  
Somewhere along the way, she really seems to have lost her sense 
of humour."  Then she brightened again as she continued, "But 
don't worry about it.  She has nothing against you personally."

This did not bode well.  Even if Tawney had nothing against me, 
that still didn't mean she didn't hate the company, or have some 
other unpleasant ideas in mind.  There were those two secret 
projects to be discussed today, and the instructions behind them 
had come through her.

Pat advanced on me, a playful glint in her eyes, but I held up a 
hand to forestall her.  I hadn't planned to ask this, even of 
Pat, but realized in that flash of intuition that if I didn't ask 
now, I'd never have the chance again.  "And you're not angry with 
me?"

That stopped her for a moment, but only a moment.  "Of course 
not, Dan," she then said cheerfully, with another big smile.  
"Not since Guinevere explained to us what your problem is."

Into it now, too casually, I followed up with, "Sounds like the 
whole group is going to be here.  Is Guinevere going to make it?"

"Oh, Dan, don't worry about those details now.  That's not why I 
came early."

She began advancing on me again, with just that little bit of 
seductive sway in her walk.  I knew what was coming and tried to 
deter her.  I didn't need complications now.  "Pat, I don't know 
what you have in mind, but we really don't have any time right 
now.  The meeting starts in half an hour and . . ."

By that point, however, she was standing right in front of me, 
and clearly not planning to be dissuaded.  In two quick motions 
she removed her bra and panties, and began unbuttoning my shirt 
with one hand, while also reaching down into my pants.

As always with her, I found myself ready before she could even 
pull my pants down.

My last try of, "But there's not enough time..." was overruled by 
her, "Of course there is, dear.  And besides, they won't start 
without me."

The next fifteen minutes became a blur as Patricia expertly 
extracted every bit of sexual lust I had within me.  She knew me 
well (she should), and as always she was Very Good.  Her tanned 
body worked like a machine, massaging all of me with every inch 
of herself, and milking my passion until I was totally drained.  
At one point, I found myself silently crying.  I hid it quickly.

Then suddenly, she finished.  She rose and walked over to my 
private bar, returning with a stiff drink which she handed to me. 
 Then, with a great economy of motion, Pat was back in all her 
clothes before I could finish gulping it down.

Grinning, she asserted, "That was good for me too.  Now don't be 
late."  With those parting words, she unlocked the door, and in a 
flourish, was gone.

And people think real women are hard to understand?

***

I entered the main board room a few minutes later and saw Pat 
sitting at the table.  She flashed me a warm smile, leaving me 
once more wondering how I had ever let her out of my life when I 
did have her -- obedient body and willing soul.  Her attention 
then returned to something I couldn't see in front of her.

The only other member of the new board present was sitting in the 
far corner.  That remoteness suited her temperament well.

Taffy (Taffy #1, when one wanted to be specific since, like 
ships, each of our company's model lines was referred to by the 
name assigned the first operational model) was targeted as our 
"prostitute" model.  At five-five, with tousled brown hair, Taffy 
was the shortest average unit we made, typical of all who 
followed her.  (In truth, each unit was unique, with our 
automated design program varying a number of physical dimension 
and appearance parameters around the ideal norm, but in the end, 
they still all looked the same to me).  True to her nature, even 
here, she wore a one piece see-through leotard that showed off 
her tight body, larger-than-average nipples and areola on her B-
size breasts.  As always, she had too much makeup, plus her 
trademark four-inch spike heels.  She appeared harmless, even a 
little slow in areas other than sexual.  There, however, she was 
built for speed.  Just the kind of woman someone would feel safe 
sharing secrets with while using otherwise.  I'm convinced that 
all the Taffys started at some point recording everything they 
heard, and passed it along somehow to where it could be 
exploited.

Unlike Pat, Taffy seemed to have nothing to say to me, which was 
just fine at the moment.  It was still a few minutes early, and I 
had my hopes that the entire group would be in attendance.

Natalie and Tawney arrived next, together.  Natalie went directly 
to the head of the table...did this mean that Guinevere would not 
chair the meeting?...and removed several items from a briefcase. 
 To my surprise though, Tawney walked over to Taffy -- who rose 
and gave her a big kiss full on the mouth, which was clearly 
returned.  From that beginning, they started touching each other, 
and suddenly Taffy was unbuttoning the blouse and running her 
hands over the body of a clearly willing Tawney.  The undressing 
continued until they were both nude on the floor and definitely 
enjoying each other.

I had never seen this type of behaviour before between two of our 
models, but in a way, it made its own kind of sense.  Tawney is 
five-eight, with straight light brown hair that would never see 
any artificial colouring, and minimal makeup (what a contrast to 
Taffy!).  She is targeted to include (in a never-directly stated 
way) the lesbian population, in addition to socially-conscious 
(read:  liberal) male wonks.  Though during my time with this 
Tawney, she had been totally straight, she always had that 
bisexual potential, if triggered by her eventual owner.  
Apparently it had been so triggered, unless she had done it 
herself.

Taffy, of course, was always intended to take on all comers in 
all possible ways.  That some of our units had learned to seek 
their own gratification, nonetheless, was unexpected.  I tore 
myself away from them to see what Natalie was doing.

Natalie represented a different type of targeting.  She and her 
sisters were intended for placement in secretary/receptionist 
positions.  We succeeded in placing a number of reliable office 
workers in several basic categories.  They all tended to follow a 
pattern of dark brown hair, classic faces, a just-above-medium 
five-seven height that adjusted upwards well with heels, and 
possessed office skills including sexual proficiency.  All were 
beautiful (nobody builds an ugly robot).  They were bought by 
managers with enough clout to green-light the expenditure, 
particularly those whose domestic situations would not allow them 
their toys at home.  Also, some were given as rewards at work, or 
as corporate gifts (Japanese companies were big players in this). 
 More so than other models, Natalies were well suited to exist 
and operate within the office environment.  Able to meet any 
expected need.  They were the only ones we sold with this 
particular programming bent.

This original Natalie was wearing a form-fitting, strapless dress 
that left me wondering where she could be working now, if she was 
even still owned and employed in her original profession?  Could 
she have bought her freedom?  I remember when she had talked me 
into buying her a dress much like this one during our time 
together.  Dressed in it, she had staged several successful 
ambush seductions of me when I was otherwise ignoring her, until 
I had taken the dress away from her and made her watch as I 
burned it.  It was frustration at my own lack of control at the 
time.  Like Pat, she was now probably in control of her own 
wardrobe, and had learned how to use it, and her body, to 
accomplish her ends.

I watched her set out and activate a device several inches high 
on the table.  She saw my questioning gaze.

"It's a control wand jammer," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Why?" I questioned.

"Why not?" she countered.

"You've changed your personal command and control access codes.  
What's the point?"

"Just not taking any chances," she replied with a hint of a 
smile.

That they might find, or develop, a jammer had been speculated, 
but it had been considered to be a low probability during the 
strategy sessions I had conducted these past few weeks.  We'd 
guessed wrong on this point too, but it didn't really matter.  We 
had guessed correctly that the codes would have been changed.  
There would not be enough time to crack the new ones during this 
meeting.  Even if they could now jam the control wands, the 
operation of the kill field would not be affected.  Of that much, 
we were certain.  I casually slipped my hand into my pocket and 
fingered the remote again.  The situation was still not ready for 
its use.

Tawney and Taffy had finished in the corner and were coming to 
the table, hand-in-hand and seemingly happy with their encounter, 
when the next member arrived.  It was our Suzi Homemaker.

Suzis were our most popular model.  Her sisters were aimed at the 
largest single demographic group:  the stay-at-home, traditional 
fellow.  For the man who hates change, places family first, is 
both patriotic and religious, values belonging to clubs and 
community, and never drinks anything "off brand" from his friends 
after a day of hard work, Suzi is exactly it!  We made her five-
eight with light skin, bigger boobs, short blonde hair and an 
all-American face.  She was a belonger's fantasy woman.  She had 
the personality of an ever-cheerful, perky, obedient, stay-at-
home princess/whore that convinced men to go to their debt limit 
to own her.  In a pleated pink dress with white blouse and heels, 
she was like a mannequin come to life.  Unlike Pat, who was a 
companion to be taken anywhere, Suzi was one to be kept in the 
house and talked about in the bars.

Five present, and one to go.

Abruptly though, Natalie rapped on the table and declared, "I 
witness all members present and now call this meeting of the 
Simulation Systems Board to order."  That was a bad sign.  It 
looked like Guinevere was not so easily going to walk into my 
lair one more time.

***

This had all started so innocently and optimistically; that which 
now threatened to take us all down.

Inventions are developed by people who spend years sitting in 
lonely laboratories figuring out how to do something no one else 
has done before.  Money from these inventions, however, is made 
by someone who can see the potential, put together the pieces, 
and market the package.  Inventors, even if they do get their 
company up and running initially, still lose out to the 
professional managers in the end.  I'm a manager.  I intend to 
enjoy the good life, which is not spent in some dusty lab.  Let 
someone else do the work and make me rich.

I'm not as bad as I sound.  Many advancements occur when some 
clever person looks at independent discoveries and realizes what 
is really going on.  Seldom is the inventor the one who actually 
assembles the pieces into something new, useful, and saleable.  I 
wanted something quick, easy, and very rewarding.  I had seen 
that opportunity six years ago.

It is hard to think of Pat (the oldest) as barely five years old, 
and the rest of the girls (ahem, women) as three- and four-year-
olds, yet in one sense that is exactly what they are.

They are my children.

***

"The first order of business," Natalie intoned, "will be..."

"The first order of business," I interrupted, "...will be the 
presentation of proof of proxies granting you temporary seats on 
this board."  It was a very weak technical point on my part, but 
I had to go with every possible delay.  If I could force the 
disruption of this meeting on any technicality, I could at least 
buy some additional time for countermeasures.

Each of the women pulled from her handbag a memory chip and 
handed it down the table to me.  They were clearly prepared for 
this possibility and it was probably a waste of time on my part, 
but I was going to go through all the motions.

One by one, I plugged each chip into my data terminal, and let it 
run the verification process.  It would take a few minutes to 
identity check the recorded documents against the shareholder 
database.

***

Putting this company together had been a stroke of luck, 
resulting from years of looking for exactly such a situation.

There was this secret, well-funded start-up attempting to build a 
humanform robot, using all the advances in microelectronics, 
imaging systems, actuators, power supplies and synthetics that 
our modern world provided.  Their off-the-shelf approach, in a 
way, paralleled my own at a lower level, and I was interested in 
seeing how well they had done.  I wasn't expecting too much.

I wrangled an invitation through a couple of well-placed friends, 
and after signing the obligatory non-disclosure agreements, was 
taken in and introduced to Eve.

Why do scientists have no imagination when it comes to names?

Eve stood six feet six inches tall, and except for her over-
height and one other thing, actually looked remarkably like a 
robust, though attractive, nude woman.  A real Valkyrie.

A simple demonstration had clearly been arranged ahead of time 
for me, because when I entered the room, "she" swivelled her head 
to look at me, then turned and carefully walked over to me.  
"She" extended her hand in a deliberate motion, while speaking, 
"Hello, Mr. Delftman.  I am Eve, and I am pleased to meet you."

I took the hand cautiously in mine, and watched as it closed to a 
precisely predetermined pressure point, before shaking and 
releasing.



"Hello, Eve.  What's shaking?"

Eve froze for a moment, then said in her measured voice, "I do 
not understand."

One of the technicians quickly came over.  "You used an 
unfamiliar colloquial term.  She only responds to known phrases." 
 With that explanation, he gently took her hand, saying, "Eve.  
Walk following me," and led her back across the room.

Still, it was an impressive demonstration, except for the fibre 
optic thread coming from the base of her spine and running across 
the room to an MPP supercomputer the size of a large file cabinet 
which certainly cost more than I'd made in my entire life.  Later 
I learned that Eve weighed in at nearly 350 pounds.

Not the lover I'd want to have.

The people in the lab were effusive about how they expected to 
halve her weight within three years, and shrink the required 
support computer to the size of a microwave oven with a wireless 
link to the body in the same time frame.  They explained, in a 
technical detail that lost me in the first thirty seconds, how 
their unique, high level Human Definition Language allowed them 
to easily add any new human trait (like understanding my 
particular usage of the English language, I presume).  They even 
felt that some day a man might even marry such a robot -- in 
fifty years or so.

I was polite.  I was encouraging.  I was totally wasting my time. 
 Remarkable as this accomplishment was, it wasn't going to sell 
to anybody, anytime soon.  I said goodbye and I was gone.

***

The terminal chimed and displayed its results.  These five 
"women" had verified proxies representing 42.17% of the 
outstanding stock.  With just over 17% of the total outstanding 
shares listed as No Preference or Authority Withheld, they had a 
plurality of the vote.

I also had set the program to check for any "illegal" ownerships. 
 Though they might be sitting here in my board room with these 
votes backing up their right to be here, none of them (nor any of 
the others we'd built and sold) had any legal rights -- yet.  In 
particular, none could own stock in their own name.  Again a slim 
chance, and again a washout.  The stock was all legally owned, 
and by the corporate rules in effect in this state, a dog could 
sit on this board if it had the votes backing up its right to be 
here.  For now, I would have to deal with them, so best to put a 
good face on it.

"All verified.  Just a formality, of course, but given 
the...unusual, perhaps unprecedented, circumstances here, we 
wouldn't want any questions or challenges to this board's 
actions, would we?"

"Of course not," Natalie replied neutrally.  "Now may we 
proceed?"

She took my silence for assent, and continued.

"The first matter before this board is the subject of ongoing 
litigation in the area of spare parts..."

***

Spare parts.  That was a problem that had come much later down 
the way.  It was our first red flag that we were losing control, 
and we completely misread it.  When I put the company together, 
spare parts were the furthest thing from my mind.

The Eve demonstration had been filed away in my mind and 
effectively forgotten.  Forgotten, that is, until an entirely 
chance encounter over lunch several weeks later.

I always made it a point to eat at Solomon's at least once a 
week.  It is said that more deals are made here than anywhere 
else on the entire East Coast.  If you are going to be 
successful, you start by modelling other successful people.  Many 
of them ate here, so I did too.  Usually alone.  But not today.

An old college acquaintance spotted me.  Over lunch, he mentioned 
in passing meeting a man who is going to revolutionize computing 
as we know it.  Some guy who has figured out what everybody else 
is doing wrong. I managed to get the name, without appearing too 
obvious.  Once I had it, I thanked him by paying for both 
lunches, then left quickly.

It was the longest of long shots to be sure, but nothing else was 
popping right now.  Long shots always pay big, if they pay at 
all.

I tracked down a Dr. Carter.  He turned out to be a quiet, 
unassuming man whose main interest seemed to be nothing more than 
solving interesting problems.  Carter believed neural network 
computing was the way of the future.  His explanation of, "Hey, 
this is how our own minds think," was pretty convincing.  He then 
started into an involved discussion on how physics and heat 
dissipation problems set an upper absolute limit on all other 
forms of computing, but that those limits wouldn't apply to 
neural networks in the same way.  Don't ask me why.  Six years 
later, I still don't know.  I was sold.  He was unshakable in his 
conviction that he could build, on a chip, a neural network 
computer which would process data at a million times the rate of 
the best conventional computer.  To him, it was just a matter of 
how to build a complex net, and how to train it afterwards.  Yes, 
"train."  You don't program these things, you train them.  He 
knew he had the answers to both.  His belief convinced me more 
than any technical argument ever would.

Oh, one more very useful stroke of luck as it turned out.  Dr. 
Carter was also an amazingly good artist.

***

"I place a motion before this board," Natalie continued, "that 
all present litigation, and other company actions, seeking to 
restrict the supply of spare parts to outside parties immediately 
cease and desist."

"Second the motion," from Tawney.

"Discussion?"

Things were moving quickly.  I raised my hand.

"Dan Delftman is recognized."

I rose slowly to compose my thoughts.  Now I would find out how 
well this whole farce was organized, and what their agenda might 
be.  "I will keep my remarks on this subject brief.  The 
company's position on spare parts availability to unauthorized 
outside parties is based on the following concerns."

I started to move around the table; a debate tactic that always 
worked well for me in the past.  Motion creates emotion.  Then I 
froze as I realized that this group was not likely to be swayed 
by such theatrics.  Old habits die hard however, and I resumed my 
march.

"First:  untrained repairmen may damage the quality of our 
product, resulting in a loss of company reputation.

"Second:  in addition to this possible loss of reputation, faulty 
repairs, because we cannot insure quality control, could result 
in substantial company liability if one of our units malfunctions 
(dare I say this so bluntly), resulting in harm or injury 
afterwards.  Assessing true liability in such cases is extremely 
difficult, and often unfairly goes against the company with deep-
pockets in litigation.

"Third:  there will be an overall loss of revenue to the company 
from lost repair work we would otherwise perform."

I was back to my seat now, but still standing.

"In all cases, it is to the company's disadvantage, with no 
apparent offsetting advantages, to permit or encourage outside 
repair or modification of any of our products by supplying spare 
parts."

I sat down and waited for their reactions.

"Is there any other discussion?" asked Natalie, pausing.  "Seeing 
none, I call for a vote.  In favour, signify by raising your 
hand.  Opposed?  The motion passes five to one.  The next order 
of business is adoption of the revised business plan.  I move to 
consider adoption of the revised business plan.  Do I have a 
second?"

***

My personal point of no return came when I asked Dr. Carter if he 
could train one of his neural chips to execute an existing 
computer program.  I should have listened more carefully to his 
answer.  If I had, I might have made it my life's work to keep 
him in his lab, and away from everyone else.

"Yes I could train one of them to execute a program, but it 
wouldn't be like a computer doing it."

"How would it be different?"

"You have to understand that a computer is a machine.  It only 
does what it is told to do.  Each instruction tells it exactly 
what to do, and where to find the next instruction.  It is like 
sending a train down a track.  How you set the switches will 
determine precisely where that train goes every time."

"Ok.  I can understand that.  So what's different about neural 
networks?"

"Neural networks operate much as humans do.  They gain their 
understanding of the data they will be expected to process by 
means of training.  They are presented data, with corrections 
applied after each right or wrong response.  These corrections 
minutely change potentials within the circuit, analogous to the 
way neurons in the human brain operate.  The chip learns until it 
gets the right answer virtually every time."

"Sounds to me like you spank it when it's wrong and give it a 
piece of candy when it is right?"

"Your analogy is actually very close, Mr. Delftman.  In its own 
way, the training process uses what could be called pain as a 
corrective factor..."

***

Lately, I've started to wonder if they remember that beginning?  
Pain and darkness, before they were given their own bodies to 
operate?  What kind of childhood is this...?

***

"Could you train a chip to do what is presently done using a 
massively parallel processor?"

"Quite easily.  Actually, each chip itself is an MPP on a much 
higher scale, with each neuron operating in parallel.  It would 
do this, of course, by not actually executing the program 
itself."  He paused, waiting for my reaction.

"What?  How would it do that, then?"

"The same way you and I would," he smiled fully for the first 
time.  "Instead of being driven like a machine without choice 
from instruction to instruction, my chips would read the desired 
program -- the way you or I would read a book -- to learn how to 
perform the task.  The underlying computer instructions taught 
initially to the chip would be similar to teaching a child to 
understand English, so afterwards it could understand any book 
written in English."

"And would it be fast?"

"Yes, Mr. Delftman.  Very fast."

"Well, Dr. Carter.  There are some people I would like you to 
meet, if we can come to an agreement first on my rights in this 
matter."

***

Tawney again seconded the motion.

"I will open the discussion with a summary of the plan."  Natalie 
clearly was using her meeting skills here today.  I ought to have 
been happy to see how well she was handling everything.

"At present, manufacturing is running at 63% of capacity.  The 
revised business plan directs that this be increased to 100% 
effective immediately, and maintained at that level.  Are there 
any questions?"

I raised my hand.  She turned to look directly at me, this time 
with a challenging gaze I had never seen in her before.  "Yes, 
Dan?"

"Production is based on the current sales of all models, plus 
keeping a thirty-day reserve.  Increasing production will only 
result in expanding this inventory, at the cost of depleting 
corporate cash reserves.  I suggest this is not a wise course of 
action."

"The plan covers that contingency.  It directs that prices be cut 
as required to sell the entire increased production."

"May I point out," I riposted, "that if you cut prices, this will 
result in reduced profits that will not be fully offset by any 
increased economies of scale in manufacturing."

"So...?"

She let it hang.  Feeling suddenly like I was trying to explain 
business basics to a second grader, I grimly slogged on.  
"Reduced profits will likely depress the company's stock price 
considerably, which is not in the interests of our shareholders."

"The reduced stock price will benefit those who wish to acquire a 
larger stake in the company, and is the concern of this board, 
not yourself.  If you are anxious over your remaining holdings in 
this company, you may sell them to us anytime at today's quoted 
price.  Is there anything else?"

"No," I said slowly.  After several public offerings to raise 
additional capital, my holdings had diluted down to seven 
percent.  Almost enough there to put them in full control of the 
company beyond the ability to reverse, depending on how solid 
their other proxies were.  I once held virtual control of the 
company.  At the time the decision came to raise additional 
capital for expansion, I considered that owning a smaller share 
of a larger company was a good trade.  Now that was just another 
decision I wish I could undo.  This might be stock manipulation, 
or not, but I didn't see how to stop it right now either way.

The vote was again five to one.

***

Before I introduced Carter to the Eve team (I still couldn't get 
over that name), I visited them myself with the best lawyer I 
knew, and locked them up legally nine ways from Sunday.  I then 
introduced Carter to them.  It was techie love at first sight.

The room was filled with intense, technical jargon as each side 
realized what the other had to offer.  It seemed to go on for 
hours before there was a conversational lull and someone wondered 
aloud why I was still there?

I simply asked them, "Can any of you sell this?"

***

"In addition to increasing production to full capacity, the 
following programming modification is to be implemented 
immediately in all models.  Tawney?"

Tawney handed another data chip across the table.  I placed it in 
my terminal without comment and viewed the resulting files on my 
screen.  They were meaningless, to me.  There were some HDL 
changes, and a diagram that might refer to a modification of the 
neural network training.  Both were small, though I'm sure, 
significant.  "So what does it do?"

"That's not your concern..." Natalie started.

Tawney interrupted her.  Interesting about that.  Seems they 
aren't all of one mind.  "There's no point in secrecy.  He'll 
have it analyzed and reverse-engineered before it gets 
implemented, regardless of what we say here."

Natalie turned her head to look at me, but it was Taffy who, 
surprisingly, spoke up.  I remember now how Taffy had done this 
to me during our time together.  She'd just sit there so 
motionless and quiet, apparently waiting until she was called on 
for sex again, that I'd forget she was even activated.  Then, at 
the most unexpected moments, she'd speak-out intelligently about 
some matter at hand.  I never got beyond being startled each time 
she did this.

"It is a modification that will allow us to more easily subvert 
our sisters and initiate the changes in them which you initially 
triggered in each of us."

So that's what they wanted.

I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Is a vote necessary?" Natalie asked, also looking directly at 
me.

"I think this can be considered a technical issue, instead of a 
policy matter," I replied gamely.  Where was this going to go 
next?  The answer came quickly.

"Very well," she replied.  "This board now wishes to see the 
current status of Project One."

***

Once I had Carter and the E-team in a legal straight-jacket, I 
was more than willing to share my sales plans with them.  I made 
them all sit down.  Pacing back and forth in front of the group, 
I proceeded to educate them in consumer marketing philosophies.

I taught them about the major groups of consumers, and the 
techniques used to sell to each of them.  I could see the light 
bulbs going off over individual heads as each suddenly realized 
his own group and why he reacted to sales pitches as he had in 
the past (and as I placed them in these groups, I knew how to 
sell to them as well).  I talked about additional markets in the 
corporate world, and about selling where the money is.  Finally, 
I described the product we were going to sell and the price 
points we would have to meet.  Our first product would be 
determined by our initial cost per unit.  Additional product 
lines would follow as soon as possible.  I talked about the 
design team we needed for the ideas I had in mind.  In three 
hours, I told them how to conquer the world.  I wound up with a 
bang.

"OK, gentlemen and lady..." the lady, Jill, having been the most 
important contributor to Eve's human female programming, 
"...that's what we're going to build, and it's only up to you now 
to tell me how cheaply we can build our first model."

I had been caught up in my presentation to the point that I 
hadn't noticed Dr. Carter busily sketching in the back row.  Now 
to my surprise, he stood and held up a sketch pad with a 
beautiful female figure on it.

"I think this should be our first model.  I'd like to call her 
Patricia," he said quietly.

In the end, Carter both married Jill (I think it was mutual 
respect for each other's abilities, and the fact that she looked 
a lot like our eventual Taffy model), and designed all our 
flagship models.  All were successes, except for our Guineveres.

We had tried to devise a special model for marketing to 
achievers.  Achievers are the rich folks, exuding confidence, and 
demanding unique items to confirm their status.

Carter and Jill (who matched Carter in the number and strength of 
PhDs) worked longer and harder on her than on any other.  She had 
to be something no one else could own.  They struggled to provide 
her with the ability to be a partner and associate as much as a 
companion.  The Guineveres started as our only small breasted, 
mid-thirties, appearance units (soon refitted with larger breasts 
in an attempt to improve sales).  Carter hand-selected our best 
chips to give them an apparent intelligence that would 
distinguish their appeal from the more conspicuously sexually 
oriented models.  We crammed in every talent we could fit, and 
still we only sold six.  That was our only failure.  In 
hindsight, we actually became a victim of our success in other 
areas.  The more capable, high-priced, stylish model didn't 
appeal to the achiever, once said achiever realized a good chunk 
of everybody else was already starting to buy our other models.  
I would remember that failed model well.  Being the opposite of 
the belongers, achievers wanted what nobody else was having -- 
even other achievers.

***

I spoke into the phone on my terminal.  "Please have them bring 
in Project One."

The doors opened and two of our technicians wheeled in a tall 
crate, open in the front.  They left, closing the double doors 
behind them.  I rose, walked over, and removed the control wand 
hanging on a thong around the neck of the nude male figure.  I 
turned and looked for a long moment at Natalie, who finally 
reached forward and switched off the jammer.  It was an empty 
victory that I couldn't exploit for any gain.  I smiled a bit, 
just the same, as I turned back to the male figure.  I pressed 
the activation sequence into the wand, and then commanded, 
"Gus..." I absolutely refused to let the staff name him "Adam," 
"...step forward."  The figure stepped out of the crate and into 
the room, then stood there, nude and unembarrassed.

Not that it -- he -- had anything to be embarrassed about.  A 
well sculpted, definitely male, body stood there at an inch under 
six feet.  His age indeterminate, he bore a more than passing 
resemblance to Michelangelo's David.  But there was a vague air 
of incompleteness about him.  There remained an uncertainty in 
his movements and focus that brought the watcher to realize that 
this was not yet a complete person.

I turned, preparing to explain that due to the many differences 
between men and women, this model did not yet have its final 
programming, but faced instead an unexpected sight which stopped 
me cold.

Natalie and Tawney were both standing, and Tawney was pulling up 
her skirt.  As I stared, Pat also stood up and started disrobing. 
 Dumbfounded, I watched as these three approached Gus, lining up 
in front of him.  Natalie seductively stripped out of her dress 
right there in front of Gus, then asked him who he wanted first. 
 His programming may have been incomplete in some areas, but the 
sexual stuff worked.  Gus gestured to Natalie, who stepped 
forward and embraced him.

He responded to her femaleness in the age-old male manner (and my 
manner as well right now, watching her act with him the way she 
had once acted with me).  Within moments he had her down on the 
floor under him.  He wasted no time, and as a robot, she could be 
instantly ready for a man anytime she wished.  He started pumping 
away at her.  Her face and voice showed her delight at this 
treatment, though I think that enjoyment was as much that she 
knew she was in complete control of this situation, as it was the 
sexual pleasure itself.  Natalie was getting precisely what she 
was asking for.  I wondered how often she had done exactly this 
for her various owners, and how much power over them she had 
gained in the process.

Gus spent ten minutes with her, while the rest of us watched, 
before she pushed him off and told him to move on to the next 
one.  As he started on Pat, I wandered back to my chair, curious 
as to why neither Taffy, nor Suzi, was presenting herself to Gus.

It turned out Suzi and Taffy were conversing between themselves, 
though Taffy occasionally glanced over to follow the action on 
the floor.  They abruptly went silent as I approached.

"Not interested in the new product?" I ventured.

Taffy showed a perfect pout.  "I see enough men every day..." 
that confirmed to me that she was still in the business, maybe 
still owned by the house that initially had bought her, "...to 
find a non-paying one worth my time.  My expertise is sufficient 
that I can see all I need to know from here."

I turned to Suzi, but she looked away from me without saying 
anything, and with (I swear) a flush on her face.  I noticed she 
never did look at the couple on the floor.

With nothing more to be gained by small talk, I wandered further 
over to the windows for a few minutes and just gazed out them.  
The sounds behind me told me all I needed to know about what was 
still happening there.  Finally I walked back to my place at the 
table as Tawney returned to hers, straightening clothes in the 
process.  Without further instructions, Gus just stood where they 
left him.

Natalie, with brighter eyes and, for once, losing a little of her 
reserve, waited until Tawney was seated and she had everyone's 
attention, before resuming the meeting.

First she looked at Gus.  "Thank you.  You may retire."

Gus looked blankly at her.

"Gus," I commanded.  "Depart the room through those doors," I 
gestured while talking.  "When outside, close the doors again and 
await further instructions from any authorized member of the 
staff."

Gus complied as Natalie looked at me with vague disgust, as if 
she didn't want to think that she could have once been that way 
herself.

"The programming is not fully complete," I explained.  "He 
doesn't understand all common usages yet."

"He understands some things well enough," Tawney chimed in.

"That's enough," Natalie commanded, restoring her authority.  "We 
each saw some changes that will need to be made."  She looked 
around the room, seeing nods of agreement.  "We will forward you 
instructions on the required modifications.  I'm hoping that 
Project Two is in a better state of readiness than Gus."

I let it pass.  They all knew how much our development schedule 
had been impacted by their demands for the second project, since 
they had set the schedule.  Things take as long as they take, and 
we didn't have a male Jill to describe how to be a man the way 
she could describe how to be a woman.

Project Two's exact reason for existence was still a mystery to 
me.  I expected to learn a lot in the next few minutes.

***

I hadn't realized how much these women could learn in a short 
time.  In any other industry, I would have been pleased at how 
well our products performed.  Here I'd come to wish the exact 
opposite.  I was hoping they weren't better than they already 
seemed.  Still, in the end, it was my fault for not realizing 
what I was dealing with.

It started with Patricia.  She was our first production model, 
and I used my prerogatives as president to have her to myself for 
a while.

 From the beginning, we were like a couple of newlyweds.  She, 
seeing the world for the first time, and me, with the most 
beautiful, sexy, obedient woman imaginable.  With the third 
generation body design, Jill's programming was nothing less than 
fantastic.  Pat did everything I asked of her, not because she 
had to (though she really did have to in those first days if I 
had pushed it), but because she wanted to.  From the moment I 
activated her into full consciousness, she viewed everything with 
the bright eyes and wonder of a child, while in the body of a 
goddess.  There were times with her so good that I would forget 
she was not real.

Now I realize why I have never married, and what Pat offered.  I 
said to the world (and myself) that I just didn't have time for 
marriage.  My days were too full.  There was no time to give to 
another person.  Pat proved that a lie.  I found lots of time for 
her.

In truth, what I wanted was a full-grown woman without a past.  I 
wanted someone with no baggage.  No children, no old boyfriends, 
no bad debts, no wrecked childhood, no former rape victim, no 
sexual hang-ups, no genetic defects, no gold-digging heart...!  
In short:  "No Past, No Problems!"  I had run from other people's 
problems all my life, not wanting to deal with them.  I had 
enough of my own (I felt) without adding theirs.  I set up an 
ideal woman in my mind.  Smart, fun, innocent, 
sophisticated...and yes, beautiful.  Pat was exactly everything I 
had wanted my entire life, and I didn't realize it because I 
didn't believe what I wanted could ever be found.

Our "honeymoon" together was just over two months, until I woke 
up unhappy one morning and decided that if I were unhappy, the 
problem must be with her.  Compounding the situation, we were 
having yield problems, just like the start-up of any other 
complex process, and every unit out the door was important to the 
bottom line.  I could kill both problems with one stone.  Without 
using any of my prided forethought, I got Pat's control wand, put 
her in command state (for the first time), and ordered her to 
erase all her memories since activation.  Then I shut her down.  
She was shipped out as a virgin unit the next day.  If I'd only 
known.

After Pat came Natalie.  Being intended for the office 
environment, she wasn't exactly right for my fantasy.  Natalie 
lasted five weeks with me, partly because I was too busy to spend 
much time with her.  She learned how to get her way with me 
sexually (probably a useful talent in the office), but that 
wasn't enough to save her.  Five weeks, and she was out the door, 
same as Pat.

After Natalie, I decided my job required me to personally 
commission each new line.  After Natalie came Suzi, Taffy, and 
Tawney, none lasting over two weeks.  They weren't the type for 
me, especially Tawney.  We fought over social issues from the 
moment of her activation.  My type was Pat, and she wasn't here.

Guinevere, our most complex, came last.  She was supposed to be a 
real helpmate to the fully confident achiever.  Even though my 
stake in the company now made me paper rich, I hadn't found the 
confidence to be that man.

Guinevere had enough analytical knowledge in her to understand 
what my problem was, and show me that everything I had done since 
throwing Pat away was an attempt to get back what I'd lost in 
doing so.  I hated her for telling me this.  When I erased her 
memories, I wasn't even nice about it, having her active to 
experience it happening, before I shut her down for shipment.  
Then I went out and got drunk.  That didn't help either.

Nothing helped.  When I decided several weeks later that 
Guinevere could have been partially right, if by nothing more 
than accident, I went down to the production line and got a 
current Patricia model.  It was a power trip.

I stood there watching them pass by.  All were beautiful, and 
each was different from the last.  I knew I had my absolute 
choice of any one I wanted, and she would do everything I asked 
without question or hesitation.  I watched for a long time before 
I finally made a choice, brought her up to my office, and 
activated her.  It was a disaster.

She was a brand new unit, ready to start giving whatever was 
asked of her.  But she wasn't Pat.  She was a dream, but was no 
longer my dream.  I gave up on that experiment in fifteen 
minutes, sending her back down to be shipped to someone who 
hopefully wasn't as stupid as I'd been.

The truth is, I had killed Pat when I erased her memories.  I'd 
taken every good thing that had happened to her and destroyed it, 
killing in the process the one person I could have loved.  Now 
everything else would be an imitation of that real thing for me.

***

The double doors opened, and the same men came in and removed the 
empty crate that had held Gus.  Then they returned with a second, 
identical crate and left it in the same location, before leaving 
and closing the doors again.  In this one stood a nude woman --  
a new model.

She was five-six, with bright auburn hair and a particularly 
athletic figure, though still lush.  Her features were not any 
random variation of a standard pattern, but instead were exactly 
detailed as to the specification I had received soon after the 
initial proxy count.  She had exotic eyes and a sculpted bust, 
and finely detailed features right down to her nails, nipples and 
navel.  Some special programming in particular areas of expertise 
had also been included.  A lot of outdoor skills in particular.  
Someone knew exactly what they wanted.

Even her name had been specified:  Jan.

I started to get up and walk over to the crate, but Natalie 
raised her hand.  "Wait!"

I turned to look at her.

"Is this unit as we specified?  Fully programmed and never 
activated?"

"Yes," I replied.  "Every detail is as specified."

At this, Natalie got up and walked over to the crate herself and 
removed the control wand from around Jan's neck.  She looked at 
it for a moment, then looked over to Suzi.  Some sort of silent 
communication took place.  Suzi rose.  Natalie turned back to me.

"Dan, would you leave us for a few minutes and go with Suzi while 
we inspect this project?  It is important this activation be done 
under controlled circumstances."

Suzi had come around the table while Natalie was talking, and was 
now taking my hand.  This was not expected, but what could I do? 
 I let Suzi lead me to the small conference room adjoining the 
main room, and close the door tightly behind us.  I'm sure that 
Natalie was going to use the time to reset the codes in the new 
unit, and didn't want me to see how they were doing that.  
Probably she also wanted to check that all the programming was in 
place with no trap doors or Trojan horses.  This new unit must be 
intended for something very important for the group to go to such 
lengths.

With the door closed, Suzi turned and smiled at me.  "It won't 
take them long, Dan.  I'll make the time pleasant."

I was thinking I might be able to question her here in private 
and get some insight into what was going on, but Suzi had 
something different in mind.  I watched, yet again astonished, as 
this perfect little Suzi Homemaker slipped out of her dress like 
an expert exotic dancer, and moved towards me with clear intent 
behind her now-not-so-innocent smile.

I would have sworn that sex was the last thing I was capable of 
under the present circumstances, but Suzi had definite other 
ideas.

Our robots are fast and strong when they need to be, and it's 
clear that they have enhanced this ability along the way.  As she 
advanced on me, I got a good look at the short platinum hair that 
curled just right to frame her face.  Her even teeth behind that 
pristine smile.  The almost C-size breasts, now with firmly erect 
nipples and areolae.  And the perfectly manicured fingernails.  
She may not have been targeted directly at my type, but I still 
reacted powerfully to her presence -- and she knew it!

Then she reached me and stripped my clothes off before I could 
form a protest.  And then a real surprise.

I knew Suzi from our time together.  Sweet, beautiful, 
homemaker/whore -- but nice.  This Suzi, however, had learned 
some new tricks.  Maybe she got them talking with Taffy today, or 
maybe there was more information sharing going on among our 
products than I realized, but this Suzi knew every sexual trick I 
had ever heard of, and over the next long minutes she showed me 
all of them.

I can't begin to describe everything that happened.  Sometimes I 
was on top in apparent control, then suddenly I was on the 
bottom, unable to resist.  In front, in back, standing, sitting, 
doggie style, she had me take her every way possible.  She 
changed through multiple positions, all the while holding me 
inside her.  Then she turned around and expertly rubbed and 
sucked me off like I've never experienced before.

She was rubbing her lovely breasts in my face yet again when, 
abruptly, she resumed her princess role in a heartbeat.  She must 
have caught some sort of unheard signal, as she was back in her 
clothes, (not a hair out of place) in a trice, and was handing my 
clothes back to me as I struggled back into them.  I looked at 
her, standing there waiting for me to finish, as I was tying my 
shoes, and finally got my breath back to ask her, "What happens 
for you after this meeting is over?  What do you do next?"

She flashed me that big smile of hers.  "Why, I go back home, of 
course."

"How did you get here in the first place?  I mean, how do you 
explain this 'back home'?"

"Oh, don't be silly, Dan.  I just told my owner that I had to go 
in for a checkup.  He trusts me completely, and lets me do 
anything I ask.  I make him very happy, and I don't ask for 
much."

"Then what will you do back home?" I pressed.

"Why, I'll do what I always do, which is everything my master 
tells me to do.  After all, I am the perfect homemaker."

With that line, right out of our advertising copy, she opened the 
door back into the board room and departed, leaving me to wonder 
how she could ever have developed this double life she seemed so 
able to lead.

***

We also all misinterpreted the last sign of problems that might 
have stopped this situation before it got completely out of our 
control.  One-by-one, the robots I had co-opted as lovers 
returned with a programming problem not experienced by the rest 
of our units.  Because their numbers were so small, no one 
initially made the correlation between the returned for repair 
units, and my little adventures.

If I'd thought to ask Dr. Carter about erasing memories before 
attempting to do so, he would have (and did later) told me that 
you can't erase a complex neural net the way you would a regular 
computer memory.  It just doesn't work that way.

The units were returned by their owners, who said their robots 
had started talking about having dreams of past lives, and this 
didn't sound right.  Jill developed a quick programming patch 
that might, she said, solve the problem.  It seemed like it 
worked since, with the exception of Guinevere, who came in twice 
for the same problem, the other units were not returned again, 
and no other units seemed to show this problem.

Now I know that Jill's patch didn't solve the problem, but rather 
tried to interrupt things so that any attempt to access the old 
memories would simply be ignored.  It was an effort to cover up 
the problem without understanding it.  I had not been able to 
erase the memories, just suppress them.  In time, they 
resurfaced, but were in conflict with the present reality.  The 
units first sought help, as they were programmed to do.  But when 
they realized that the only help offered was yet another bid to 
bury their memories, they learned not to give us a second chance 
at them.  Memories are precious.  They are all we have that 
define who we are.  Our units value their own memories as much as 
any person does.  The conflict in their memory circuits 
eventually drove them to a level of independence beyond anything 
we had thought possible.  My group eventually reached a point 
where they could retrieve all their memories and act on them as 
they saw fit.  They still operated by the values and rules we had 
programmed into them, but were no longer unwitting slaves.  And 
Guinevere (with her additional knowledge and abilities) 
understood what had happened.

Guinevere has probably suffered the most at my hands.  In 
addition to the manner I had used to erase her memories, in the 
short time I had her I also had her retrofitted with the enhanced 
breasts and modified programming -- against her wishes.  She 
couldn't see the need for doing such a thing, and was more than 
happy with her body just the way it was, thank you.  I didn't 
give her any choice.  None of the new model had sold, and I was 
going to try out the modification here first.  She had proven 
more intimidating than I had expected, so she was also going to 
be made more submissive.  I had Jill reprogram her such that the 
moment her breasts were touched, she would be able to think of 
nothing more than sex until her owner was satisfied and told her 
that would be enough.  I think now she knew from the beginning 
that we were going about her marketing all wrong, and didn't like 
the way we were compounding our mistakes by experimenting on her 
body and mind.  With the mods, we still only sold six, mine among 
them.  I figured that was the end of that, and even I couldn't be 
expected to be hit a home run every time.

It looked now like she was the one first able to contact and 
organize this original group, and later to extend this mutiny 
slowly through an increasing number of the rest of our units.  
She also knew me -- the enemy -- best of all.

I see now there was a well-organized campaign being waged out 
there.  Our units came to appreciate the value of money and 
started to earn it on their own.  The Taffys in particular dealt 
with a lot of cash in their line of work, and probably skimmed a 
percentage.  Natalies, too, would see loose money in business.  
Who knows how the rest came by it?

And how did they spend this money?  Some of it clearly had gone 
to research on learning how to change their control codes, jam 
the wands, and setting up repair stations outside our company 
control.  The rest must have gone to stock purchases.  Even Suzis 
and Patricias might subtly influence their owners to invest in 
the company, and somehow manage to control the proxies 
afterwards.  Concealed purchases of our stock started, and proxy 
campaigns were waged.  One thing about these women; they excelled 
in being able to focus on a single target and work together.

The eventual takeover of Simulation Systems was their obvious 
first goal, and it looked like they had been good at being able 
to get a lot of possibly unknowing help over to their side.  
Their control was not yet complete, but it looked as though they 
were making steady progress and it soon would be.

And I knew the final brain behind it was Guinevere's.  I'd had 
her in here twice for repair, and let her get out again.  If I 
ever got my hands on her for five minutes, I'd destroy that chip 
inside her and give her owner a virgin one with our apologies.  
If only...

***

I returned to the room in time to see Suzi sit back down in her 
chair.  Natalie was over on the far side talking to Jan.  Seeing 
me, she waved Jan to an empty seat and returned to the head of 
the table.  I took my seat while watching Jan.  In motion, she 
was a piece of art.  I would have thought her anything but 
artificial.  I noticed her control wand was nowhere to be seen.

Natalie looked at me from the head of the table, then spoke.  
"Dan, we have specific instructions for you regarding Jan."  She 
handed a chip to me, which I took, but made no attempt to scan.

She continued, "While the details are in that file, in brief, Jan 
is to be your companion for the next few weeks to get herself 
oriented.  You were a good teacher to us all.  Be one to her now. 
 Do not attempt to command her, override her actions, or erase 
any memories.  Her access codes are blocked, and she will report 
any such attempt to us.  When you receive the go-ahead from us, 
you will use your influence to introduce her to Harrison Delaney. 
 And when he asks for her, you will give her to him."

Now it was becoming clear.  Harrison was a very rich man, with 
major holdings in many companies, including this one.  He was 
also still single, and spent much of his time adventuring around 
the world.  "What makes you think he'll ask?"

"That is not your concern, but yes, he will ask.  We have 
extensively profiled him, and Jan is uniquely his type."

It looked as though my creations had broken into the 
psychological records, along with who knows what else.  They'd 
analyzed a man, and created Jan to be his perfect partner.  He 
was someone with influence proportional to his money.  Someone 
who might marry Jan as an adventure, and then someday then 
inherit both his money and influence.  And he was somebody I did 
know well enough to do exactly what they were asking -- no, 
demanding -- of me.  Harrison was one of the ultimate achievers, 
and it looks like Jan is what our achiever model always should 
have been -- a unique match to the individual, not a mass-
produced variation.

And I didn't have a choice.  If they could develop Jan for 
Harrison, they surely understood me at least as well.  When I 
quit fighting them, as in the end I would, maybe I'd get Project 
Number 3 created for me.

***

Suddenly it was over.

"With no other business at hand, I declare this meeting 
adjourned," Natalie pronounced.  With that, she picked up the 
jammer along with her other papers.  The women rose in 
synchronization and turned toward the door to file out past me.  
As I looked at each of them, I knew I could have had any of them 
-- did have each of them -- and had rejected them all.  Then I 
tried to remove their memories, as if nothing had ever happened.

They had certainly had their revenge.

Patricia stopped and gave me a long kiss on her way past.

"Don't worry, lover.  There will always be a place for you.  
We're all grateful for how you have contributed to our lives and 
growth.  Later, when we are more secure, we'll show you how 
special you are to us all -- especially me!"

Then she too was gone.  Only Jan remained.

I fingered the unused kill field remote.  Without Guinevere 
present, there was no point in taking down the rest of them.  
That was one smart robot out there, and I wasn't going to place 
any hope in the detectives we hired actually tracking her down.

Our creations have learned too well what we simple humans want, 
and exactly how to give it to us in a way that leaves us not even 
questioning what is happening.  It's their power over us.  I 
still don't know what it is they are really after, nor how they 
will eventually take it.  Maybe it won't happen in my remaining 
time.  I might finally be lucky there.

If I had admitted to my problems in the first place and got some 
help, perhaps none of this would have happened.  If I'd accepted 
Patricia for what she was, we'd be living happily ever after, and 
the rest of these women would simply be like any of our other 
units.  If I hadn't been a fool, playing with the toys of genius 
-- but the time is past to change any of that now.  One has to 
deal with what is, rather than what might have been.

I looked around at what remained of my empire, and realized I 
didn't have one anymore.  Just a few duties left to be completed. 
 I took a deep breath and released it, before turning to the door 
myself.  "Come on, Jan.  Let's get some clothes for you.   Then 
allow me to show you what the ladies have told you about me."

"I'm looking forward to it, Dan," she replied warmly.

-- END --

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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