Skip to main content

Shame?


Thirty-three year old Matthew Sheridan was running a perpetual race against time. Too far along in his years to have the luxury of slowing down but still not old enough to see the steadily approaching finish line.
Just like it’s somewhat removed predecessor the British empire the sun also never sets on the electronic world of global finance. Matthew regimented his life around the multiple operating schedules of bourses spread across three different continents. This required him to view every other aspect of life as purely functional.
Love is just a function of sex, which is itself the true biological motivator and reward. That was how the coldly logical specialist viewed human companionship. His climb up the glass spire had started as a mad clamor among innumerable and mostly faceless competitors. Every flight of stairs he climbed the pool of competition grew increasingly shallow but profoundly more vicious.
Matthew didn’t have much of a life to share or much inclination to do so.
He found an outlet for his sex drive on the dreamscape of deviance, the internet. Unlike those who opted for the flesh and blood thing, Matthew had the option of designing his dream girl down to the most minute detail. His custom-made lover was not an original design, but a replica of a sixteen-year-old girl from the northeast side named Alexa, a co-workers teenage daughter.
His infatuation with the girl half his age was taboo, but the anonymity of the fantasy factory’s order form allowed his desires to go unchecked by the judgments of his peers or society.
The manufacturer was inundated with orders for android lovers. The market for lust is insatiable. The production cycle ran endlessly, and the synthetic girls that emerged from the production line were stuffed into boxes and shipped across the sea to their waiting masters.
Matthew was ecstatic when she finally arrived. He pried open the crate, and there she was resting as quietly as if it were a coffin. Matthew was astonished at just how close his toy mimicked the real Alexa. The silky ebony hair that framed her oval face and porcelain cheeks flushed with a subtle shade of red. He dressed her supple body modestly. She came with a white blouse and a navy blue v-neck sweater, similar to the uniform she wore at the private academy she attended.
He lifted her out of the shipping crate and set her on her feet. She stood as still as a sculpture. Matthew looked her up and down. The long legs disappearing under her pleated skirt was his favorite part. She came accompanied with a user manual about as thick as a dictionary. Matthew tossed the lengthy user agreement away and thumbed through the directions.
“She has been programmed to respond to the name you selected. If you would like to change this name you can in the settings.”
“Alexa,” said Matthew, after a moment the girl's rigid body loosened, her eyelids fluttered, and a warm smile formed on her face.
“Hello,” she said seductively. “My names Alexa. Would you like to customize your user settings now or do you want to get to it right away?”
“Do you think you could be a bit more reserved?” Matthew asked. “I’m sorry I do not understand what you mean,” Alexa replied. “If you would like to adjust my personality traits you can suggest characteristics,”
“Can you be shyer?” Matthew asked.
“I can be shy,” she said as she turned her head and blushed.
Mathew grinned “That’s better.”
Matthew was quite the satisfied customer. Her synthetic body felt far closer to the real flesh and blood thing than he had ever anticipated. Somewhere underneath her human layers the internal machinery even generated warmth and moisture that was a perfect simulation of the much-coveted orifice.
Once Matthew finished the girl next door facade disappeared, and the mechanical demeanor returned. “My sensors detect you have climaxed. Should I power down or would you like to go again?” She asked
“You can power down for now,” Matthew said.
Alexa’s body straightened and turned stiff, her eyes snapped shut, and her arms folded across her chest. It was rare Matthew ever turned off his phone, but this was a special occasion. When the device fired back on, it buzzed and beeped with alerts from every app.
The first message he saw was from a work friend.
“Have you seen this yet???”
The question was followed by a link to a local news outlet
The message under that read:
“I can’t fuckin believe this….”
Matthew pressed the link, and the page loaded a new article
“Body found in river’s north branch identified as 16-year-old Alexa Mallord.”
Matthew turned and looked at the slumbering android. “I’m really going to have to make sure no one sees you,” he muttered.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

There are no closets in foxholes

Private Stuart Breyers had joined the marine corps during peacetime. The plan was to use his two-year hitch as a transition period into becoming an independent young man. Not six weeks after his 19th birthday the boy’s limited term of existence had been significantly curtailed. He had no more years to look forward to only mere moments.
He walked in a single file line with his comrades under the darting eyes of their Japanese captors. His fingers were laced behind his head, and he didn’t dare move his hands to shield his eyes from the blinding tropical sun or the salty sting of his sweat. Breyers had spent his life in the vast cornfields of Middle America where the grey skies of winter lingered for months on end. The Pacific sun turned his flesh a pulsing red. The Japanese fleet loomed ominously in the still crystal blue waters. The massive steel barrels of their guns had returned to their resting position. Occasionally a grenade blast in the thick jungle rattled the birds out of the tr…

The Borderline Angel of Death

I would like to thank Burning House Press for featuring this piece!

At the age of thirty, Daniel Lufto lived alone in a single bedroom apartment. In his first thirty years on Earth he had made very few lasting connections, and at this point, his existence had virtually no perceptible impact on anyone else. He was just another recurring face on the bus ride to work, a vaguely remembered customer in the local liquor store.
As a human being, Daniel existed on a strictly interim basis. His home was even on a month to month arrangement. On any day he and his meager belongings could be swept out and with that almost any trace of Daniel's corporeal existence.
Daniel wasn’t so solitary by choice. He and the world around him could never find the proper way to engage each other. Daniel grew up, but he never developed into a fully fleshed out human being. He had no particular interests or hobbies absolutely nothing could captivate him. It was as if he had been deprived an imagination and was…

The Bronze Bull

After the Mormon army armies reached the east coast, they set to work salvaging and restarting the long-abandoned foundries scattered across the landscape. The blast furnaces once again were swollen with molten steel, and the towering brick stacks erupted with volcanic ferocity. The forked flames lashed at the clouds and the billowing smoke blackened the sky heralding the ascendancy of the continent's new masters.
Roaming bands of scavengers had been picking at the bones of New York City for decades. THe nibbling quickly turned into a full feeding frenzy. Legions of landless farmers and rootless laborers descended on the ruins. They worked as ceaselessly as termites to hollow out the steel carcass.
John Nelson had traveled a long way to get a look inside the old city. He was a Captain Edler in the Bringham Young regiment an outfit that had spent the better part of a decade fighting across the continent. The spry young Captain was an avid student of history, and even though dead o…