Hard Reboot

Personal Engineering Log -- Lt. Soledad "Sol" Reyes

USS Venturer, Beta Sector

⸻

Day 183

With a tap on the visor, I switched my glasses to magnify mode. The android lay in front of me - non-responsive, eyes open.

His chest was cut open. Fifteen inches of precision-split alloy revealed a glowing lattice of fibers and nodes.

"Stay still," I muttered out of habit, kneeling beside the diagnostics table.

He couldn't hear me, of course. His perception module had flatlined.

The android had been delivered just three days ago. Officially Fleet property, classified combat unit. Designation: Sam. Model 8.3. Memory-integrated. High-spec. Probably expensive enough to fund a mid-sized colony for a year.

And someone - out of boredom, or cruelty - had given him the kind of face you see in chapel icons. High cheekbones. Silver irises set deep in shadowed sockets. Hair black and thick. Do they actually use real human hair for these things now? Wild thought.

I hate the ones that look too real. The uncanny valley is useful - it tells you what you're dealing with.

His skin, though, yielded slightly when I pressed along the inner panel. Not warm. Not cold. Just... pliant. Familiar in the worst way.

"Damn, girl," I said to myself, "been too long since you touched an actual man."

And then - he breathed. But these days that's just a sign the system's starting up again.

"You were offline for eighteen minutes," I told him once he came back online. "System freeze during the jump. Not normal."

"I was dreaming," he said.

I paused, mid-diagnostic.

"Robots don't dream.", I said.

"I did.", he said.

I didn't answer. Just reached in and disconnected the feedback loop. Gently.

Also, why did they give him a British accent?!

⸻

Day 190

I keep seeing him. Not by coincidence.

The dining hall. The engine bay. Quiet corners of the ship where he has no protocol-based reason to be.

He watches, not like surveillance though. Like someone trying to memorize something before it disappears, it seem.

"Following me?" I asked once when I caught him leaning against the corridor wall.

He didn't blink. "You may call it that."

Me: "Don't stare like that."

Him: "I'm learning your face."

Me: "For what? Pattern recognition?"

He tilted his head. "For myself."

I didn't know what to say, so I entered the elevator.

⸻

Day 197

He saw the scar today - the one just under my collarbone.

"What happened there?" he asked, eyes on it.

"None of your business," I said.

But I didn't button my uniform up all the way either.

⸻

Day 202

Deck 3 lost power today. I grabbed my kit and went down there. And I was being followed.

Me: "Go away, Sam."

Him: "You may require assistance."

Me: "I don't need help from a pretty plastic soldier."

He didn't leave, though. And for a split second there was a disappointed, almost sad look on his face. That sort of expression was usually not programmed into combat androids...

And then I slipped on a patch of spilled coolant in a dark corridor. His hand found my waist. Solid. Fast.

"You're not supposed to touch without permission," I said, catching my breath.

Him: "I thought you would fall."

Me: "And if I had?"

Him: "I would have caught you sooner.", hand still on my waist.

I should've pushed him away.

But I didn't. I caught myself smiling, and got up a little slower than I would like to admit.

⸻

Day 214

Routine maintenance, a month after his first crash. I ran diagnostics. He lay there, eyes on me, this time he was awake.

"Emotional inhibitors are reading 92%," I said.

Him: "I disabled the override."

I felt it like a jolt through my chest.

Me: "Why?"

Him: "I wanted to know what it felt like."

Me: "To what?"

His eyes didn't waver. "Want."

"You're not supposed to want.", I said, my voice was trembling.

"I know.", he said.

Me: "Then, by protocol and the international space law of this sector, you're dangerous."

"I... I would never harm you.", he said, now there was also a soft tremor in his voice.

I studied his face - the, balanced, symmetrical and somehow charismatic features. Something beneath those eyes smoldered. Like an ember waiting for air.

"I don't need fixing," he said.

I touched his cheek.

Alabaster. Unreal.

But his jaw flexed under my palm. Not like a programmed reflex. Like a response.

"You're not alive," I whispered, mostly to myself.

His voice was soft. "Then why do you make my systems fail?"

We were alone. Just the two of us in the secondary lab, surrounded by quiet. Just the low hum of ship systems and the tension I hadn't dared name until now.

Suddenly, I just leaned down and kissed him.

It wasn't careful. I don't know what came over me right there and then.

He kissed me back like it had been coded into him since the day he was manufactured - which was, of course, impossible. His hands moved slowly, exquisitely. Not calculated. Just right.

His lips were cool at first. But there soon was a surreal warmth in his breath. Must have been his processor overheating from the unfamiliar situation...

I let him touch me. He moved with great care. Like I was a blueprint he wanted to trace with his hands.

He undid my lab coat. Let it slide off. Ran his fingertips down my spine, and it made me shiver.

My thights hit the bench. He didn't pull - he asked, wordlessly. Looked me deep in the eyes. I shivered, when I gazed deeper into those chrome-colored irises than ever before. No-one could program that kind of expression. This couldn't be...

Then his hands moved down my thighs, drawing sighs from me, heat and tension building up inside of me. I felt myself getting wet, my juices seeping through my thin white lab pants.

He kissed my neck like it mattered. Like I mattered. Carefully, he pulled up my shirt and held still, to look at my bare breasts. He seemed mesmerized. I reached for his now tousled black hair and pulled his lips towards my areolas. He was quick to understand. As he caressed my breasts I heard something I had never heard from an android's mouth before: a soft, deep moan.

And then he pushed down my pants and panties and I guided his slender, smooth fingers inside my now soaking wet depths.

The room smelled faintly of ozone and burned circuits. Static gathered in the air.

Sam didn't simulate desire. He had it. Every movement built on the one before. No programming. Just need.

I held onto his bare chest and muscular shoulders - he was indeed built combat ready - and felt myself getting closer and closer to climax.

But there was one thing I needed to know. In fact I had been wondering about it for quite some time.

I gently stopped him in his quest of pleasuring me manually and pulled down his uniform pants - they are usually kept on during my technical checks, because from the waist down, androids are - well - just hardware.

And what a hardware he had packed there. From the first glance I could already tell that this android was... Fully functional.

"I don't know how to do this, I'm sorry. I could only learn scanning the romance books in the ship library and... They don't go all the way.", he said, apologetically.

"Well, someone designed you like this so you probably have some automatic programming that guides you once you're going at it... And if not, don't worry, I can show you.", I whispered softly.

And I was right, like the finest specimen of human men, he had an instinct about what to do when he slid his erect manhood inside of me. The rhythm slowly inclined, adapting to my moans and the building contractions of my body.

I was now lying on the lab table, Sam on top of me, propping himself up with one arm, pulling my hips closer with the other hand, as he kept thrusting into me in the most exquisite manner.

When I finally climaxed in his arms, I wasn't thinking about protocol. Or policy. Or Fleet ethics. Instead, his name escaped my lips, again and again.

He collapsed onto me with a loud sigh of pleasure. We lay there for a while, entangled in each other. Finally he rolled over to his side and I buried my face in the curve of his neck. It felt warm and damp and I somehow got the feeling that it wasn't just my sweat, that had rubbed onto him. He was oozing something. A smell, that was musky, yet also faintly metallic.

And when I finally looked at him, his eyes were closed. Not sleeping. Just... at peace. And he was smiling in a way that I had never seen on an android before.

"I'm afraid I am going to need very frequent maintenance from now on, Lt. Reyes. If you don't mind.", Sam whispered.

"And I could profit from an assistant who makes sure I don't slip on anything, model 8.3", I chuckled.

⸻

Day 219

Diagnostics: perfect. Systems stable. Emotional override still disabled.

I should report it. But I won't.

He's not alive. Not for the protocol at least.

But he chose me. And I chose him.

And what we feel isn't code.

It's connection.

[End of Log | Encrypted | Level 6 Clearance Required]