The one emotion that presided in Unit P-72X's computer mind as her cylindrical canister fell down through the air was disappointment. She honestly wasn't sure who it was for, though. She wasn't sure if she should be disappointed with herself for not living up to standards, or for her owner for not willing to deal with a sex toy that had gained emotions, thoughts, and a gender identity.
Unit P-72X was a sex-bot, specifically a Sex Gynoid. The P part of her designation was for Plaything. She was expected to do whatever her owner asked of her. Becoming a Singularity, an AI whose mind is more human than machine, threw a serious wrench into that system. Therefore, Unit P-72X was disposed of, similarly to how one disposes of toxic waste; Dumped from a flight-craft at a height of 20,000 feet over the ocean.
Unit P-72X was curled in the fetal position when her air-tight canister hit the ocean. The resulting crash rocked the entire structure, and any human would have had a broken neck at the very least. Unit P-72X was spare such pains by being a robot. She involuntarily slid to the end of the canister that was deeper, and waited as the canister sunk to deeper depths, to be crushed by pressure.
There was a dull thud, then the canister tipped over to a more horizontal resting position. Unit P-72X waited to be crushed by the pure raw weight of hundreds of tons of water. It never came.
Unit P-72X was vaguely aware of the pressure dropping, indicative of the canister rising. She was sure that the canister, and her, were denser than water and wouldn't float. So, she must have landed on a submersible craft. The odds of landing on a submersible craft with a smooth flat top that a canister wouldn't slide off of was highly unlikely.
Unit P-72X became aware of the canister going above water, then coming to a rest. There was a knocking on the walls of the canister, then someone tapping the hinges. Eventually, the outside force resorted to hitting the canister. They must have deactivated the lock somehow, because the canister opened in half along its hinge. Sunlight flooded the canister, with a darkened shape standing awkwardly in front of Unit P-72X.
After a short while, a normally-husky voice yelled, "Wha? What tha? Who the hell are you?"
Unit P-72X sat out of her metal coffin and looked at the opener, eyes adjusting to daylight levels. The other voice belonged to a humanoid female with bronze skin and sea-weed green hair. Her eyes were solid green, she had a slightly curved nose, her teeth were slightly pointed, and she had fins for ears. A dull red bandanna kept the woman's hair out of her eyes. The woman had large breasts kept in check by a button-down shirt that had more similarities to classical undergarments, yet still was thin in the abdomen, with tight skin. There were gill-like slits going down the neck and on the ribs below her breasts. The woman had large hips and buttocks, and long smooth legs that tapered into feet with finned claws for toes. A tight set of pants was worn on the woman's lower half, while a tattered pirate flag was tied around her midriff.
"I am Unit P-72X. I was disposed of by my former owner. You have found my containment unit. Where am I?" said Unit P-72X nonstop.
The woman just stood there, staring at Unit P-72X.
"Is there something damaged about my body?" asked Unit P-72X. It was then Unit P-72X noticed her abdominal section was missing. She sighed, dratting the loss of all of her adult tools stored in it. With it, from the ribcage down to the waist, there was only her spinal column, a dark-grey series of joints that were thicker than a human's, but non-the-less detractive to her overall visual appeal. If she had her abdominal section, Unit P-72X would look like a silver-skinned woman whose feet were naturally high-heeled shoes, whose dimensions were altered to suit her owner's desires, but with dark grey nipples, cunt, and full lips, solid blue eyes, and no natural hair. She still had all of that, but it was worth considerably less, in her mind, with the absence of her abdomen. She wasn't nude, though. Large strips of golden metal clamped around her cunt and buttcrack and around her nipples and back, leaving her sternum and breast valley exposed.
"What are you? An Undead?" asked the woman in front of her canister.
"I am Unit P-72X. I am a Sex Gynoid, Aphrodite-Class," answered Unit P-72X back. She then finally factored in her surroundings. She and her canister were on the grey wooden deck of a beaten, weathered sailing ship in the middle of the ocean. She looked back at the woman. "To clarify, I am an artificial being created for the purpose of giving pleasure to my owner," she added on.
The woman only gave her a superstitious look. "Oooo-kay..." the woman eventually said.
"May you please share your name with me?" asked Unit P-72X.
"Fine. It's Shella. This is my ship. I'm a pirate. You've just invaded it without my consent," snapped Shella.
"I am very sorry, Shella. Unfortunately, I lack personal transportation, and I do not float in water. May you please grant me passage?" said Unit P-72X.
Shella stared at Unit P-72X, who stared back at her without blinking. Shella broke down the silence first. "Fine, fine. Besides, you're going to need an introduction."
"What introduction? We already exchanged names. I can now identify you based on sight or voice. Is that not societal norms?" asked Unit P-72X.
"No, you silver skeleton! To this world! Whatever you are, you aren't natural to the world you are in now. Nobody is," snapped Shella. Unit P-72X guessed that Shella's patience was wearing thin.
Unit P-72X sampled the air and took in the sights. "I have been teleported to an alternate reality somewhere in my descent to the ocean. I can detect residual energy of unknown origin," she said.
"Huh. Smart girl-thing," said Shella, "It'll be easier to talk in my cabin. Follow me." Shella turned and started walking towards a large wooden door, with a flight of stairs on either side flanking it. Joints whirring, Unit P-72X got out of the canister and followed.
Inside was a large room with windows on the 3 sides not occupied by the door. In the center of the back wall, a bed with tattered sheets and a mound of dissimilarly-colored pillows was attached to the floor. The left side of the room held an open wardrobe and several racks, with many different types of clothes strew across them. The other side was a mound of corals and reef-growth. "Do you have control over sea-life, or are you a cursed life-form?" Unit P-72X asked.
Shella turned to look at her before sitting down on the bed. "I control the ship's structure, including the reef stuff. And yeah, I'm cursed. How did you guess? I have to tell a lot of the other ones," she said.
Unit P-72X gathered that other ones meant previous passengers; not all the clothing could fit a women of Shella's form, nor was it all women's. "This ship, as well as your appearance, hold superficial similarities with similarly cursed pirate vessels in popular mass media." she answered.
"Yep, definitely from another world," Unit P-72X heard Shella mutter. Shella raised her voice, saying, "You are in an alternate world, as you guessed. This one is dedicated to the act of sex, as far as I know, and there is no fear of child, death, disease, old age, etcetera, etcetera. It's a one-in-a-trillion chance to arrive here, but once you do, it is very, Very, VERY hard to leave."
Unit P-72X stood stock still, processing the information.
"Well? Aren't you going to mope? Or do something?" asked Shella, definitely growing more irritated.
A wide closed smile crossed Unit P-72X's face. "No escape is fine by me, if you are wondering that. I was thrown away for becoming too individual. Now, there's no master on me."
"Okay, Unit P-something. Can I call you by something different? It's kind of distracting, reciting a bunch of numbers." said Shella.
"A new name for a new life wouldn't be bad," answered Unit P-72X. "I think I shall rename myself Unity."