I AM A GIRL CYOBORG PET

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I AM A GIRL CYOBORG PET Page 7

by ROUNAK PURI


  There was no way to browse, which meant you had to remember the exact name of the track. That might sound easy, but how many track names and artists can you recall? You could say, 'I'd like to listen to the track that 13-24 is currently listening to' or even 'play that album that I listened to yesterday and that 10-66 played to me'. You could even sing bits of it and Shazam yourself (which was a form of musical Russian roulette).

  So, you're supposed to be able to ask to play any song: I've just listened to Don't be so Hard on Yourself by Jess Glynne and the collar suddenly says, "People who listened to Jess Glynne listened to Mandatory Sacrifice by Fear Factory." Like, switch to Heavy Metal! Seriously? And when I ask it to play something different, I get an electric shock and the collar repeats, "People who listened to Jess Glynne also listened to Mandatory Sacrifice by Fear Factory," again. So that puts you in a dilemma: if I do listen, then who ever listens to the Jess Glynne track next time is going to be electrocuted because now the machine really knows that people that like the first track, like that one afterward. So I take a 'Level One' for Team Humanity and walk around for a bit like I've just had a cattle prod jammed in my side.

  A day later I'm telling Kayla and Joe about my next strange, new experience, "I'm walking down a corridor for my DS Class and the collar says, "People who walk down this side of the corridor often stop and chat to someone for three minutes ." But there's no one around, so I say, 'Cortona there is no one here but me.' So it repeats, 'People who walk down this side of the corridor often stop and chat to someone for three minutes .' "1

  "So what happened?" asked Joe.

  "So then I'm shouting, 'Cortona. Stop it!' at the collar."2

  "Well, I'm glad no one was around to watch you say that to yourself," said Kayla, with a smile.

  I continued, "But, it gets worse. So my collar then says, 'People who said 'Cortona. Stop it!' also said 'Please forgive me, Master' .' And then my collar stung me."1

  "OW," they both said together.

  "So, I'm in the position of: because some stupid person stopped and talked here in the past, now everyone who walks this close to this wall will be forced to do the same. And I'm thinking that I've taken one for the team already and I'm done with practicing being 'a part of the national grid' for the day. Then, at this point, I suddenly see some guy walking towards to me and I'm starting to feel like a complete idiot; I'm starting to wonder what I can say to him, as he passes by, when my collar tells me he's called 10-10. But then, before he gets to me, he just stops and lies down. At this point, I think that this is getting mad: I'm waiting for an invisible bus and this guy is miming being a dead guy on a cheap cop show..."

  "So what did you do?"

  "Very slowly, I slide over to him," I began, "we say hi and I ask if there anything wrong."

  "I don't know why you asked him that: everything seems completely normal!" said Kayla, with heavy sarcasm.

  "So he tells me that his battery is on low-power and he's been told to go into Low Power Mode."1

  "Lie down, say nothing and do nothing until Tech Support turn up," added Joe.

  "That's right. So he's whispering. If the collar stings you, it can lose more power, so he's trying not to get punished."

  "Dangerous for you, standing around talking to him," observed Kayla.

  "Why?" I said.

  "If power gets to 2%, the last remaining charge is used to fire the explosive charge. If you're standing too close, you could get bone fragments hitting you," said Joe.

  "So I said, is there anything I can do? He said that unless you have a USB cable and a charger on you, not much. I told him he should get his collar looked that. I mean, the charge should last all day, right?" I said.

  "Not if you get stung a lot," said Kayla.

  "He said he was always worried about doing that. I mean, have you seen Technical Support? They always walk around dressed like a bomb disposal team," I said.

  "So what did you do?"

  "Well, at this stage, he stops talking to me completely, and just moved his eyes around."

  "Deep Low Power Mode: I really wouldn't stand around," said Joe.

  "So what did you do?" said Kayla.

  "I went into a nearby classroom and found one of the Principals getting ready for a class. I asked her if she had a USB recharger that I could borrow to recharge one of her students. She goes, 'I do have one but I'm using it to recharge my electric cigarettes.'"

  "Did she let you have it?" said Joe.

  "No. What's the world coming to when people are too busy recharging electric cigarettes to recharge their students?" I said, eyebrows raised.

  "I wanted to stay with him but my collar was nagging me about it being time to go to my next lecture. So I've been past there again since and not seen any scorch marks so I guess he was okay. But do you realize that now the next time someone walks down that corridor their collar's going to tell them to lie down and talk to somebody?"1

  "Recommender systems!" said Joe, in disgust.6

  ***

  Chapter 16/Operation him

  It was a week later and I was working on 'Operation Lord Rockwood'. Stage one: suck up to teachers.

  "So, who knows the order of importance in the New Mechanical Order?" said the instructor.

  I pressed my 'permission to speak' light on my collar.

  "Yes, 56-42," said the instructor.

  "The CPU, Artificial Intelligences and Cyborgs, Robots, Human Collaborators, Semi-Sentient Robots, the Internet, wild animals, washing machines, signs, toilet cleaning utensils, that-fluff-you-sometimes-find-in-your-belly-button and, finally, human play-objects, i.e. slaves."

  "Well done," said the instructor. 'Two points to Gryffindor,' I thought. I had spent the class putting up my hand to answer all questions, which wasn't difficult: the Correct Behaviour Class wasn't at all difficult. A quick skim through the three ring binder and you pretty much knew all the right answers.10

  "And why is belly-button-fluff above slaves in the true, natural order of things?" he asked. 88-33 got her 'permission to speak' light on before me.

  "Because our glorious, wonderful, fabulous Overlords tell us that even belly-button-fluff wouldn't be dumb enough to build weapons that create a nuclear winter just because different bits of fluff disliked each other," she said. 'Two points to Slytherin,' I thought, 'you know, if she added one more adjective, you might think she's actually making fun of them. I must try that and see if Kayla gets it.' 15

  'Operation Lord Rockwood'. Stage two: hang behind after all the classes with all the other instructors. I stood as close as I could to the instructor,

  "Professor, I thought you did a great job at explaining how to kneel before different makes of Overlord. Master"

  "But..." he said.

  "Well, I remember hearing about a Lord Rockwood, I wasn't sure how would I kneel to him. How would I do it, Master?"

  "Lord Rockwood?"

  "Is he a he or an 'it', Master?" I asked.

  "I'm not sure. I think he's a Cyborg, I heard that Rockwood was a bit of a loner. Some of them come in almost every month to buy new stock but he doesn't, he's very particular. When he bids, he bids high and I think he likes getting (and expects to get) what he wants. He's very high up in the New Mechanical Order's government. That's all, but if I learn anything else, I'll tell you," he added.

  "Thanks, Master," I said turning.

  "Shouldn't you say something?" said the professor, reminding me.

  "Yes. Sorry. All hail the New Mechanical Order," I said, saluting smartly.33

  "All hail," said the instructor placidly.1

  It was a new instruction from the general council of the New Mechanical Order. They came up with this stuff all the time and our instructors were as uninspired by it as I was. I was super excited and very keen to get back to the others. While I walked along, I looked at how blank people seemed as they walked by, ignoring each other. I knew the look, everyone was busy checking status updates on their collars between classes.
Occasionally I would see someone in the distance but they wouldn't notice me until we were right on top of each other.

  "Hi 56-42. Good luck with your shoe-unlocking," said 10-70 running by.

  "Hi 10-70, love the new catsuit, really suits you," I would say.

  My collar had told me to say something else. The reaction was funny, quite often people would stop and look down and check themselves out. It would take them a second to decide if they really were wearing new clothes. It was a joke Joe, Kayla and myself shared. The idea that you could be so busy that you couldn't notice new clothes was funny and I liked to think of it as a conceptual art piece" provocative and thought-stimulating. I found it comforting that there was still a place for art under the robot's rule.

  My collar was getting to be a bigger pain. Joe said the instructors could upload new Apps onto it to 'help' us. All the Apps seemed to do was to break my train of thought. The worst offender was the way the collar would now complain about my posture. "Stand up straight," it would complain. "Shoulders: level left up a little", "Head up!". It was like having the worst, bossy aunt ever. You didn't have any way to shut up the machine, except actually do what it said. Everyone else had the same problem. Walking was an issue as the machine clearly had some idea of was the ideal walk and kept telling you to take shorter or longer strides. I noticed that when Kayla, Joe and I walked in the corridor we ended up marching in lock-step. This is what happens when you let the machine decide how people should walk. Typical fascist machines obsessed with how things looked. but like Joe said, 'I suppose they wanted to put the order into New Mechanical Order'.4

  The next most annoying App was the one which reminded us to say 'all hail the New Mechanical Order' or 'I love my new robot Overloads' whenever we passed a robot, which typically was a guard. Failure to follow this was a Pain Level 3, zappable-offence. I walked past a drinks vending machine, "All hail the New Mechanical Order," I said saluting ironically. It was a joke, but I noticed a number of other people copying me; I guess fear makes idiots of us all. 31

  ***********

  A/N I can't help but notice you've got to chapter 16 and haven't voted yet. You, yes you girl with quirky smile and slightly uneven eyebrows in New York. We know who you are. Imagine there is a robot apocalypse and 25 years from now and your there with your teenage daughter and she says. 10

  "What did you do to stop the robot apocalypse mummy?"

  and you say "Well I did come across this quirky novel on what we used to call WattPad on this thing we used to call the Internet. Perhaps if I had voted for it, it might have become a runaway success got turned into a Hollywood film which would have alerted someone and more people might have done something about the actual possibility"

  and your daughter says "wow did you do all that?"3

  you being a truthful soul say "Well no I didn't vote. The button was at the bottom of the screen and I was reading too quickly"6

  Possibly your teenage daughter will say "What you didn't vote for the book!!! Look, look at this collar mummy. See the colour it's green and black. You no what goes with green and black collars? Nothing, that's what goes with green and black colours, everything I wear clashes. I have to live my life in this uncoordinated hell because you couldn't be bothered to vote for a book which possibly could have saved that mankind from it's own destruction? I'll never speak to you again! NEVER NERVEEER !!Grr" while storming off to her robot supplied mattress to cry.16

  You don't want that, we don't want that, so why not tap to the bottom of the screen?30

  RK.

  Ignore him dear reader, he get's cranky. He's close to 1000 votes and he read that's when you start to drop off the Hot 100(currently #65). He's also jealous the very excellent The Resistance by Broken_window has 902 reads and 204 votes (x 4 Pet's vote score) and he thinks he's under voted so he panics. I'm like what are you worried about - your #65 in SciFi hot of course people of your/our book, don't worry.

  I understand, you've been promised the ultimate bad boy owner/master and so far all you have is a name and few vague but sexy details. So yes *I * understand you reserve judgement until you've seen how muscled and broodingly seductive he is. So you've got to hang in there, RK is a stickler to the conventions of the Romantic/SciFi/Comedy/Dystopia novel don't let him get to you. As they say all will be revealed. Personally I'm not a big fan of authors pan handling for votes, it seems undignified. RK said it's all about engaging with the audience which 've quite liked but with these outbursts I'm not sure. Don't worry about it, I'll talk to him. You do what ever you feel is right. +

  Reb.

  Chapter 17/Downton Abbey

  I got to the slave cages.

  "All hail the Used Mechanical Border," I said, saluting. Joe had discovered that the voice recognition wasn't perfect and that it heard what it expected. Without a co-lab slave around you could get away with it and we were alone between classes.

  "You shouldn't click your heels when you do that, they will notice," said Kayla.

  "No one else gets the joke and it damages your shoes," said Joe, brushing Kayla's hair.

  They forced me to wear these things and I didn't see why I had to look after them too. You needed a clothes printer to change them so I couldn't even take them off.

  "You're all down today! Well I'm in a happy mood. So you can't break my odd ball love affair with badly made World War II movies. Ask me why I'm in a happy mood," I said.

  "Why are you in happy mood, Jenny?"

  "I've found out our future owner is a Cyborg. He's a loner and very particular about who he bids for and he's very high in the New Mechanical Order," I said.

  "It's not much."

  "But lets link it with what we know," I said positively. "So, we know there are five orders. Slaves on the bottom, co-labs, or the turncoat collaborators next, then there are Robots, then the Cyborgs, or half-people, half-machines, and finally A.I.'s, or artificial intelligences. The A.I.s and Cyborgs are the ones which need lots of blood to power their comprehension chips. So who buys e-Slaves?" I said.

  "Co-labs, Cyborgs and A.I.s."

  'Why the A.I.s? What drives do they have?"

  "I was told by the teacher that the A.I.s need blood to run plus, like I said, they picked up a lot of the nasty parts of the Internet. Plus it's a kind of status thing now: lots of slaves means you're a smart, important A.I. All the e-Slaves want to be A.I. fodder, it's like being a trophy wife, you're just brought out for parties and the rest of the time is yours," said Kayla.

  "So you're an A.I.'s Tamiko Bolton, but it's regular blood-draining, plus doing things for random strangers. Not that attractive!" I said.

  "Well, I would think that living with a co-lab would be OK. I mean, they're human," started Kayla.

  The co-labs were humans who had agreed secretly to collaborate with the robots before the war. Apparently they had been richly rewarded and given e-Slaves of their own.

  "You mean, living with people who turned on their own species. Actually, it's not even their own species, is it? So, co-labs turned on even their own life form. I can't think of someone who could be worse," Joe criticised.

  "I just thought it would be a bit like Downton Abbey," Kayla continued, stung from the criticism.

  "Downton Abbey?" said Joe.9

  "So let me get this right, your model of living under a robot apocalypse is Downton Abbey," I said.

  "Sure, you know the co-labs are like the Lords and Ladies and then we are running round, downstairs."

  "Do we have to do Cockney accents?" asked Joe.

  "No but we work in big houses, we get to help them wear fabulous clothes and, like the Victorians, if a master or mistress comes along, you have to turn around so they don't have to bother acknowledging you," said Kayla.

  "Let me get this right, the Victorian aristocracy actually treated their servants like that? It's not just a fiendish robot thing?" said Joe.

  Kayla nodded, "it's in the binder."

  "Wow," I started, "humans are parc-er than I thou
ght. You know, if I was a computer, I would want to subjugate us as well."4

  "Look, you're a woman; we didn't get the vote until 1920 and it's not like we ever managed to reach equal pay or anything, so this whole slavery thing isn't as big a slide as you might first think. I'm just saying that going back 96 years isn't the end of the world for women. It's not as if all the women of the world killed themselves due to the dystopian conditions of 1920. I say the Downton Abbey option makes the whole apocalypse more of a road bump"

  The 40,000 people wiped out by killer cars alone at the beginning of the uprising didn't strike me as a 'road bump', more like mass carnage, but I didn't want to make things worse with Kayla.

  "Easy for you to say, I'm sitting here with double-E man-boobs," complained Joe.

  "Maybe Joe can work in the stables, mucking out mistress' horses. Parc!" I said.

  "Maybe he could be the handsome stable boy," said Kayla, enthusiastically.

  "He would need a sports bra first," I pointed out. Joe grunted his displeasure.

  "I'm sure his new owner would sort him out," said Kayla.

  The revelation that all Victorian romantic fiction was just dystopian romance without the Hunger Games happy ending really freaked me out. I guess that deep down, I still basically believed the whole apocalypse could be undone. One day, we could all go back to normal. I had to think about something else.6

  "Maybe, I still don't see what the co-lab's long-term plan was. Okay, you betray your people. You help the machines take over. You get your big houses, money and e-Slaves. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that the machines are true to their promises and they treat the co-labs like Lords and Ladies. What about your kids? Once the machines are running everything, why do they need co-labs?" I said. It wasn't helping, but it was one of those things I wondered about.1

 

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