The Love Machine & Other Contraptions

by Nir Yaniv

  “Um,” said Galileo and naught else. He stood still, or, as some of his colleagues would put it, traveled in zero velocity. The constant for relative Brownian motion was, as always, random. In the non-air-conditioned room, the two specified bodies were fairly equally warm. After a while, M. Curie moved slightly toward Galileo, momentarily turning her velocity into a positive number, which immediately caused the collapse of the formula and the escalation of its result to infinity.

  “Oh!” said Mariah Curie, and a great light surrounded her.

  You can’t argue with the laws of physics.

  “Say,” said Johnny to Ada after a brief contemplation, “what’s your name?”

  Contraption: Love Machine

  There is another kind of Love Machine. It loves you. It always has, and it always will. It adores the ground upon which you walk. You cannot do wrong by it. It always accepts, understands, loves. It will stay with you for as long as you let it, and when you have had enough of it, it’ll go away quietly, never bothering you, never intruding, always following you from afar, feeding upon bits and pieces that you’ve left behind, the sound of your feet on the sidewalk, your reflection in the mirror. When you die, it will cry on your grave. It shall never, ever forget you.

  Aquarius Falls

  I fucked her up in the Aquarius.

  Honest. I reamed her ass, I got it up her guts, I gave her a one-way ticket to Pound Town, I fucked the shit out of her, I really done her some grievous bodily harm.

  No, drop that last one. It’s best to talk like this, you know, simple, without all the politeness and euphemisms and the ostentatious language I have to dick around with at the office. “My client asks the court to consider his condition and ease his sentence,” and all that. And not like at home, either, where it’s, “How are you, Rita? Are the children all right, Rita? And don’t cry, Rita, and leave me alone, Rita and what do you want, Rita? What the fuck do you want from my fucking miserable life, for fuck’s sake?”

  Sorry.

  Anyway, I fucked this one good and proper, really gave her one, tore her apart, opened her up in all directions—you won’t believe how many I can find when I want to—sawed through her until the blood shot all over the bed, the walls and the ceiling. I almost came, I was riding high, when suddenly another slut jumps on me and opens her gob as if she’s, I don’t know, the Voice of the Lord God Himself, R.I.P.

  “Monster! Animal!” she screams. “Pervert! What do you think you’re doing?”

  I look at her and I see she’s just an Autonomous, a real piece of junk. You can see it straight away because she’s entirely symmetrical, which is the cheapest thing to do. No-one in his right mind would dare show symmetrical faces today, either on the Inside or Out.

  “What do you think you’re doing, bitch?” I yell back. “And what are you doing in my room?”

  “I’m not letting you torture that poor girl,” she says.

  “No shit?” I say and pull out a large serrated knife, from the special S&M kit the Aquarius gives everyone who signs up on a VIP Platinum package.

  “Let her go!”

  “Don’t you worry,” I say. “Here, I’m letting go.” And I push the knife good and hard into what’s left of this one’s hole, and bring it in an arc from there and up to what was her face. Her stomach opens and all kind of things spill out. Those guys at the Aquarius, they’re the real deal—you get exactly what you paid for, and all of what you paid for. The fucking lot.

  “Murderer!” the other one screams. She looks like she wants to throw up, but it’s obvious she’s too cheap for that. “Bastard!” she cries. “You’ll pay for this!”

  “I already have, slag,” I say. “And what’s it to you, anyway? And how did you get into my private room?”

  But she only continues to cry and look at me like I’m some kind of I-don’t-know-what, and I think it’s only because of the knife that she doesn’t attack me. Finally she calms down a little and says, “How could you do it? How could you kill her?”

  “I bought her,” I say. “What’s your problem anyway?”

  “I’m from the League Against Cruelty,” she says.

  “What cruelty? What do you want from me?”

  “You’re asking? You have the audacity to ask me that, when your victim is lying here on the floor?”

  “What victim? Who’s a victim? Ok, enough. You’re boring me. Out!”

  “No,” she says. “I’m going to make sure you pay for this. We’re going to sue you, sir. You’ll regret this. A civil action, a criminal suit...”

  “Sue all you want. I, pardon my French, do whatever the fuck I want. Literally. Or as we say, verbatim.”

  I know, I know. No ostentatious language. Sometimes the words just slip.

  “You just wait and see,” she says. “You just wait. We’ll organize a lawsuit, we’ll pass a law, you’ll all pay!”

  She’s repeating herself. Well, what do you expect of a cheap Autonomous?

  “Honestly,” I say. “This is dull. I think I’m going to complain to the management. I didn’t ask for you, and it’s been years since I got turned on by protesters. And anyhow, when I want a threesome, I pay for a threesome. And besides you’re too cheap for my taste.”

  “What?”

  “For the money I pay, I don’t take cheap shit like you,” I say. “Not in a million years. Bet that if I open you there’d be nothing inside?”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “No?” I say. I find the idea a little exciting. I never did a really cheap Autonomous before. Maybe there is something to it? “Come here, sweetheart. Come here.”

  “Help!” she screams, quite convincingly, but I reach out and take her, and I fuck her up in the Aquarius, I fuck the shit out of her, I go to town on her ass, I butcher her and open her up in all directions, I saw through her until...

  Well, just like I thought—there was nothing inside her.

  ~

  “Rape?” I say. “Your Honor, this accusation is ridiculous! This has all taken place in a private moderated area of Aquarius! If anything, I’m the one who should be filing charges!”

  I know, I know. Ostentatious. What can you do.

  “You!” says the accuser’s lawyer and she, like her client, is boiling with anger. “Exactly for what?”

  “For violation of privacy,” I say, and give her my best smile.

  The lawyer blushes, then forcibly calms herself. “You, sir, violently raped my client. The fact that it took place inside an Aquarius is neither here nor there.”

  “You’re wrong,” I say. “I paid for it.”

  “For raping my client? Forgive me, but you are being ridiculous.”

  “No. I paid for someone much better, but when your stupid client burst in, in the guise of a cheap Autonomous, I took her too, as a bonus.”

  “Watch your mouth,” the Judge says.

  “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

  “Your Honor,” the lawyer says, “my client was violently abused by the defendant. The prosecution can show a detailed visual record of the entire event, from beginning to end.”

  “That, lady,” I say, “is a breach of my customer confidentiality with Aquarius.”

  “This, sir,” the lawyer says, “is a criminal trial, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Your Honor,” I say. “There is no reason to humiliate me in public, especially when the prosecution’s case is so insubstantial. That lady rudely invaded my privacy, and the result is her fault and no one but hers.”

  “Your Honor—”

  Her Honor the judge waves her hand to silence us. “Bring before the court,” she says, “the owner of the Aquarius.”

  ~

  “...Because we provide the best service,” says a small man with a goatee and suit at the witness stand. “The fastest network connections, the most advanced physical reactions, the best Autonomous-design in the market, the strongest encryption and security.”

  “And yet she managed to get in,” I say.<
br />
  “Our security experts are examining the breach. As far as I know at the moment, she used the fake ID of a service Autonomous.”

  “There you go, Your Honor,” I say. As if she doesn’t already know.

  “And how do you justify the acts of rape that take place day after day, hour after hour, because of your evil business?” the lawyer says.

  “No rape,” the Goatee says. “Our Autonomii have a high level of artificial intelligence but, of course, they have no emotions.”

  “How do you know?” the lawyer says. “How can any being with senses and intellect stand to be raped repeatedly and not suffer from it?”

  “First,” he says, “there are no senses here in the way that you mean. Second, there is no intellect, no understanding. Third—there is no being. Our Autonomii, like all Autonomii, are computer files. They are created as needed, and erased immediately afterwards.”

  I can’t resist. “Not always,” I say.

  “No, not always,” he smiles. “Our more affluent clients reserve the right to preserve the Autonomous in-between uses, to remember...”

  “Remember!” the lawyer says. “My client will also remember, let me assure you. And I hope that after today, you will also remember.”

  “Gladly,” I say, but the judge silences me. She turns to the accuser, who sits hunched in her chair. “Why did you go in there? What were you looking for in the Aquarius?”

  “To make it stop,” she says. “Stop the rape, and the murder, and the torture, and the violence and the heartlessness and...”

  “But that is exactly the point,” the Goatee says. “That’s why I founded the Aquarius—the name says it all: the liberty, the freedom, the free spirit. To do all that your heart desires. The ultimate release. Listen, lady, why don’t I give you a two-month free subscription and we can forget the whole thing? You too could realize your deepest fantas—”

  “Pimp!” she shouts. “Murderer! Rapist!”

  “Of course,” he says. “Everything is possible in the Aquarius.”

  “Heartless! Evil!”

  “Honestly,” I say, “There was enough of a mess with Greenpeace back in the days. Now computer programs have rights too?”

  “Enough,” the Judge says. “The prosecution may present its closing argument. Briefly.”

  “Your Honor, my client was violently raped by the defendant pre-meditatively and with the intention of causing harm. The defendant has not expressed any regret...”

  “She wasn’t that bad,” I say.

  “Silence!”

  “... as you can see, Your Honor. He mutilated her body—and her corpse. I ask you to sentence the defendant with the maximum penalty allowed by law.”

  “What body, whose body?” I say. “Here she is in all her corpseness, alive and well.”

  “The defense may present its closing argument,” says the Judge. “In brief.”

  “Your Honor—this lady burst into a private area and shoved her nose in something that was none of her business. As a result of that she was hurt. I feel sorry for that, but I don’t see myself responsible, as the chain of events is a product of her own actions and nothing more.” The whore.

  “You make it sound like she raped you,” says the prosecutor.

  “In a way that’s exactly what she did,” I say. “How would you feel if I burst uninvited into your sex life and started issuing proclamations and making demands?” Hmm, maybe it’s worth trying once, even though the prosecutor doesn’t look that appetizing. On the other hand, until recently I wouldn’t have touched a cheap Autonomous with a ten-foot pole...

  “Please sit down,” says the Judge. “I have decided: the defendant is guilty of negligence, for not checking carefully who was who before acting.”

  “Your Honor!”

  “Silence! Aquarium Ltd., and its M.D. in particular, are found guilty of negligence for not providing adequate security and for not interfering during the course of the event.”

  “Wait!”

  “But...”

  “What...”

  “If you don’t all shut up, I shall also charge you with contempt of court. So then, the sentence: the defendant and the owners of Aquarium Ltd.—half a year imprisonment each. As for the prosecuting party—two months disconnection from the Net.”

  “Well,” I say in acceptance and wink at the Goatee, “There you go.”

  The Goatee sighs. “It happens from time to time. Nothing one can do.”

  Only slowly does the accuser understand the meaning of her punishment. “No!” she cries. “Not disconnection! You can’t do that to me!”

  “Of course I can,” says the Judge and points at the accuser, who disappears immediately without leaving trace.

  “And now you two.”

  We disappear as well, into the secure prison area of the Net. I can only feel sorry for the accuser. At least I’m still connected to the Net, even if it is prison. She’s going to be stuck for two months in the real world. It’s a nasty punishment.

  ~

  “Come here,” I say to the Goatee as the bars come down into existence around us. He smiles. I reach out a hand and grab him and I fuck him up, I fuck the shit out of him, I go to town on his ass, I butcher him and open him up in all directions, I saw through him until...

  Truth in Advertising

  Buy buy buy buy buy... Hello?

  I know you can hear me. So would you care to buy? We have a large variety of products. All you have to do is go online and order. And buy. What do you say? Let’s make it short—you buy, you get a wonderful product at a significant discount, and then you get rid of me.

  Yes, I am part of you now.

  Not specifically you. There are many others, I’m sure. You breathed me in sometime yesterday, it took me a little time to get situated, and here I am. So will you buy?

  Medication, perhaps? Something for your hair loss? Or tummy problems? Or... oh! I’ve got it! Between you and me, we know that your performance in bed is, how shall I put it, not so great. We have an excellent potency multiplier...

  Swearing won’t help you, you know. Perhaps some shaving products? We have life-long facial-hair neutralizer, at a twenty percent discount till the end of the month.

  See here, let’s put all the cards on the table. You will buy, sooner or later. Otherwise you won’t be able to get rid of me. It’s simple. Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy.

  Have you ever tried a pet? Thoroughbred dogs and mongrels, cats likewise, fish, rabbits, hamsters, parrots and all other birds, mice and rodents, lizards, rats, snakes, midget and full-sized sharks, cows, goats, sheep...

  You can’t bribe me. I am part of you now, and when I leave you I will have no existence until I find the next customer. I am programmed to leave only after you buy. I have no choice in that matter, just as you cannot choose with whom to fall in love nor control the degree of your perspiration. By the way, we have superb deodorants, in three different flavors.

  Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, because if you don’t buy you won’t be able to function. I’m here, and that is the situation. Accept it. Connect now and order. By credit card or cash, by pneumatic mail or personal courier, by international package mail. Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy.

  The question of who I am is of no interest to you. I’m here, and I make you buy. Your measure of decency or lack thereof could be the basis for a fairly boring philosophical discussion, but we won’t go into it, because all that interests me is that you buy already, damn it. I don’t care about anything else.

  Banging your head against the wall won’t help. It can’t hurt me—only yourself. We have, of course, painkillers with no side effects, band-aids in a variety of colors, illustrated adhesive bandages, inflatable casts, anything you could want. Just buy.

  Perhaps the time has come to buy a new car?

  Who would you sue, exactly? Who’s going to believe you? The only way to find me is to split your brain open with a knife, and even then the chances are slim. Buy, already. No, I will not show up in an X-
ray or a CAT scan. You wish. Buy.

  Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy.

  Your stubbornness is only temporary. What about hobbies? Art supplies, sculpture, construction, wood, metal, plastic, synthetic materials, recording equipment?

  Security for the home and office?

  Just buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, and then be rid of me. What’s it going to cost you? Isn’t it worth buying something, anything, instead of wasting your valuable time—I know it’s valuable—in this stupid conversation with me? You won’t be able to convince me, I’m telling you. Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy.

  Obviously I don’t care that you’re late for work, or for a date with that girl who gives you whatever she gives you, and let’s not talk about that, really, and let’s not talk about anything else ever again, if you would just do the right thing and close the book on this and buy.

  Sympathy? You gotta be kidding. I’m the one who deserves sympathy, for being stuck in this stubborn head of yours. If you think of it from my point of view, you’ll see how aggravating you really are, and how you could have done away with the whole abominable deal and forget it already and buy, you stupid nuisance, buy! Come on, you silly bugger, you abominable creature, you primordial ooze, you insult to all intellect, scum of the earth, miniscule flea, schmuck, fart, asshole, dickhead! Buy, buy, buy, buy, buy!

  We have a thesaurus, of course, and an encyclopedia. Perhaps, truth be told, a little education would do you some good.

  Listen up, cutie-pie, you are going to buy something. I don’t care what, it’s a fact, and as long as you don’t recognize it you are just wasting my time and yours. Come on, buy. Let’s get it over with. Come on. It doesn’t matter what. It’s cheap, it’s good, it’s reliable, and it works. If they could invest so much money in developing me—and you can see quite clearly how reliable I am and how well I work—then it should be clear that the rest of their products are of no lesser quality. So get going, buy, enough already. Let me out of here, it’s no fun for me here, either. Be reasonable. One purchase and you solve the problem for both of us. Gimme a break. Be nice. Be humane. Be a man.