I walked the line of the gallery looking over the various models.
"Hmm, these are attractive, but what about programming?"
"They all come with the standard package," the saleswoman said, her voice abnormally perky. I glanced at her again. She was one of those silicon beauties hidden under thick, dark glasses, with her hair done up in a messy bun, wearing a tight pencil skirt, and cream-colored shell.
"Not like you."
"Oh, no, miss. I'm specially programmed for this job."
Apparently she was programmed for flattery too. I was too far down the road to be called "miss."
"Well, let's see, then." My voice sounded tired even to my ears. But, then again, this was my third toyshop in as many hours.
"Do you have a preference on body type?" she asked.
"Either very blond or very brunette."
She frowned. I was not being specific. Then she perked up and flashed me a big smile.
"I think I have just the thing," she said. She stepped over to a tall blond who looked like he spent his days riding the waves at Big Sur. "This is our Bradley model. Brad, darling, say hello to our guest."
Bradley's eyes immediately lit with animation.
"Hey, baby," he said. "Care to chat?"
"No."
"But," said the saleswoman.
"No," I said more firmly.
"Take five, Bradley," she said. He grinned a big, white smile at her. "Sure, baby," he said and switched off.
"Anything else?" I said.
"Well, there is the Tom series. He is a bit out of your stated budget, but he's so worth it. And he comes with multiple options." She winked at me, and I shuddered.
She strolled over to black haired model, whose brown eyes reminded me of dark chocolate.
"Tom, say hello to our guest."
Tom's eyes brightened in a delicious way. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Hi, Tom. Tell me more about yourself."
He smiled. "Well, I'm an laid back, easing going, fun guy."
"Take five, Tom," I said.
"Sure, sweetheart." He powered down.
"I'm sorry." I turned to the front entrance.
"Wait!" said the saleswoman. "I can see you want more than the standard man. And I might have something. Now, I'll be honest. He's a trade-in, and he hasn't been reconditioned yet, but the previous owner did invest in some upgrades."
"What kind of upgrades?"
"You'll see. Follow me."
She led me to the back room where there were unclothed models in various states of repair. I got an eyeful of different upgrades. But the one she stopped at wore a dark business suit with a crisp white shirt. His hair was grey at the temples and he honest-to-god looked a little tired.
"Andrew, say hello to our guest."
Andrew's eyes showed life, but he gave me a wary glance. I stared at him, marveling at his life-like expression. I smiled, and he smiled back, warmth seeping into his eyes.
"You're not easy going, laid back or fun," I said.
"No, I am not."
"Perfect."
#
"Are you sure you don't want any changes," said the saleswoman. "We could adjust..."
"No, I'll take him just as he is."
"Once he leaves the showroom..."
"Where are the papers," I said.
In the end I had to sign, on top of the usual, a waiver of guarantee because I did not allow any reconditioning. That was fine was me.
"I'll get him then."
The saleswoman left me alone in the tiny office, and quickly returned with Andrew who carried a small paper bag. "Sweetheart, you'll go home with Miss Shipley."
"I will?" he said.
Hmph. This was unusual.
"That is, if you want to," I said.
Andrew turned his blue eyes on me.
"I have a choice?"
"Now, Andrew," said the saleswoman.
"No," I said. " If there is something in his programming tells him 'no' then he doesn't have to come with me."
"What would I do?"
"Not much," I admitted. "Robots aren't permitted the run of the streets."
"I'm aware." He almost sounded bitter. "It doesn't sound like much of a choice."
"We all don't have many choices, Andrew." Like buying artificial men because there just weren't that many flesh and blood men left.
"She's already paid, Andrew. Go along with her."
He looked at me again. Something seemed to pass between us, but that was impossible. He was, after all, a machine.
"Okay. I'll go with you, Miss Shipley."
"Evaline. Call me Evaline."
"Evaline," he repeated in a nearly toneless voice.
#
In the elevator going up to my apartment, Andrew stood, face forward, holding that paper bag.
"What's in the bag, Andrew?"
He didn't look at me.
"Enhancements."
I was going to say something, but then my neighbor, Magda, got in.
"Ooh, and who's this, Evaline?"
"His name is Andrew."
"Just Andrew?"
"Yes."
"Oh." Her tone held a sneer. I never did like her.
"Andrew, this is my neighbor, Magda Adams."
He continued to stare ahead.
"What's wrong with him," said Magda.
"There is nothing 'wrong' with me, Miss Adams. I am functioning at my normal parameters."
I almost smirked then.
"Andrew, would you please be so kind as say hello to Miss Adams."
"Hello, Miss Adams. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Her eyes widened at the unusual, for a robot, response.
I moved closer to her ear. "He has enhancements," I whispered to her. I drew out the last word in the most suggestive way I could.
She looked at both of us askance.
"Non-standard programming is illegal," she said primly.
"Who said anything about non-standard? I just bought him, as is, from the toy store. They are licensed, you know."
"Which one?"
"Pecks. On Fifth."
"Hmph," she said. "I've never been to that one."
"For as many trade-ins as you've done? I'm surprised."
She huffed and the door opened. Magda fled as fast as she could.
"I take it she's not a friend of yours," said Andrew.
I gave him a look wondering at what he just said.
"Come along. My apartment is the second door on the right."
"Yes, Evaline."
I walked in, but didn't turn on the lights. I liked my apartment just like this, dark, with the lights of the city a backdrop against the huge planes of glass that made up my left wall. The moon was full, its light streaming on the back of my long, curved sofa.
"This, of course, is the living room. Over there," I pointed to a darkened area to the far left, "is the kitchen. I pointed straight ahead to a set of double doors. "Through there is the bedroom."
His gaze darted around.
"And where do you want me?" he said.
"Pardon?"
"Where should I stay when you do not...require me."
"To tell you the truth, I hadn't thought about it."
"You've never had someone like me before?"
I shook my head slowly.
"So, why now?"
"My friends told me I was getting sullen, and difficult. They suggested this."
"Were you? Sullen and difficult."
"I suppose. My work is stressful."
"Would you like a glass of wine?"
"How do you know I have any?"
"A woman like you wouldn't."
I pointed to the kitchen.
Andrew moved there and doors opened and shut as he looked through cabinets. I heard a bottle uncorked, and soon he returned with two glasses of the white I had in the refrigerator. He handed me one, and sat down next to me on the couch.
"Two glasses?"
"Is that wrong? My last...owner always insisted."
"But you don't drink."
"Of course not. She'd drink it."
"Why were you traded in? She seems to have invested quite a bit in you."
"She didn't. She died and none of her family wanted me."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
I took a sip of my wine. "That they didn't want you."
"I'm not. If you don't mind I'd rather not talk about the past."
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Me? Nothing."
He took my glass and set both his and mine on the coffee table. Andrew raised his hand and traced the line of my jaw with the knuckle of his forefinger.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting to know you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Gently his hand trailed down my neck to my breast. He made lazy circles around it while he stared into my eyes.
"Like that?" he said.
"Yes." Despite the wine, my throat was suddenly dry.
He cupped the underside of my breast firmly, and then moved the flat of his palm over my nipple, which had hardened under my shirt.
"Does that feel good?"
"Yes."
Slowly he unbuttoned my silk shirt, and pulled each half to the sides, leaving my black lace bra exposed.