The question is whether he really thinks it’s a good idea for Ana to accept Polytope’s job offer. He’s not sure he does, but until he’s sure, he’s going to be supportive.
After he gets off the phone, Derek logs onto the private Data Earth to spend time with Marco and Polo. They’re playing a game of zero-gee racquetball, but descend from the court when they see him.
“Met nice visitors today,” says Marco.
“Really? Do you know who they were?”
“Person name Jennifer, and person name Roland.”
Derek checks the visitor log, and is dismayed by what he sees: Jennifer Chase and Roland Michaels are employees of a company called Binary Desire, maker of sex dolls both virtual and physical.
This isn’t the first time the user group has received an inquiry from someone wanting to use the digients for sex. The vast majority of sex dolls are still controlled by conventional software to enact scripted scenarios, but for as long as there have been digients, there have been people trying to have sex with them; the typical procedure is to copy a public-domain digient and reconfigure its reward map so that it enjoys whatever its owner finds arousing. Critics consider it the equivalent of having a dog lick peanut butter off your genitals, and it’s not an unfair comparison, either in terms of the intelligence of the digients or the sophistication of the training. Certainly there aren’t any digients remotely as person-like as Marco or Polo available for sex right now, so the user group gets occasional inquiries from sex-doll makers interested in purchasing copies of the digients. Everyone in the group has agreed that they should ignore such inquiries.
But according to the log, Chase and Michaels were escorted in by Felix Radcliffe.
Derek tells Marco and Polo to resume their game, and then calls Felix. “What the hell were you thinking? Bringing in Binary Desire?”
“They did not attempt to sex the digients.”
“I can see that.” He has the recording of their visit playing at double-speed in another window.
“They had conversation with them.”
Talking to Felix sometimes feels like addressing an alien. “We had an understanding about sex-doll makers. Do you remember that?”
“These people are not like the others. I like the way they think.”
He’s afraid to ask what that means.
“If you like them, bring them to Data Mars and show them your Xenotherians.”
“I did show them,” says Felix. “They were not interested.”
Of course they weren’t, Derek realizes; the demand for sex with Lojban-speaking tripods would be microscopic. But he sees that Felix is being honest, that it wouldn’t bother him to prostitute the Xenotherians if it would help finance his first-contact experiment. Felix may be eccentric, but he’s not a hypocrite.
“Then that should have been the end of it,” he says. “We may have to ban you from Data Earth.”
“You should talk to these people.”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
“They will pay you for listening to them. They will send a message containing the specifics.”
Derek almost laughs. Binary Desire must be pretty desperate if they’re paying people to listen to a sales pitch. “Messages are fine. But I’m putting those people on the ban list, and I don’t want you bringing in anyone else from a sex-doll maker. Is that clear?”
“That is clear,” says Felix, and hangs up.
Derek shakes his head. Normally he wouldn’t consider listening to such a sales pitch, even for money, because he doesn’t want to give the impression that he’d be willing to sell Marco and Polo as sex objects.
But right now the user group needs every dollar it can get. If listening to one company’s presentation could encourage other companies to pay for the same opportunity, then it might be worthwhile. He restarts the video of the visitors’ meeting with the digients and watches it at regular speed.
Chapter Eight
The user group has gathered to listen to Binary Desire’s presentation via videoconferencing; Binary Desire has made a payment to an escrow service, and the funds will be released after the meeting. Seated at the focus of her wraparound screen, Ana looks around her; everyone’s video feeds are integrated so that the user group appears to be gathered in a virtual auditorium, each sitting in a tiny private balcony. Derek’s sitting in the balcony to her left, and Felix in turn is to his left. At the podium on stage is Binary’s representative Jennifer Chase. Her image onscreen is blond and beautiful and tastefully dressed, and because the parties have agreed to use authenticated video, Ana knows this is how Chase actually looks. She wonders if Binary Desire assigns Chase to do all their negotiations; the woman is probably very good at getting what she asks for.
Felix stands up in his seat and starts to say something in Lojban before catching himself. “You will like what she will say,” he says.
“Thank you, Felix, but let me take it from here,” says Chase.
Felix sits back down, and Chase addresses the group. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Typically when I meet with a prospective business partner, I talk about how Binary Desire can help them reach a wider market than they can themselves, but I’m not going to do that with you. My goal for this meeting is to assure you that your digients will be treated with respect. We don’t want pets that have been sexualized through simple operant conditioning. We want beings that engage in sex at a higher, more personal level.”
Stuart calls out, “How do you expect to get that when our digients are completely asexual?”
Chase doesn’t miss a beat. “With two years of training, minimum.”
Ana’s surprised.”That’s a major investment,” she says.”I thought digient sex-dolls were usually trained for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s because they’re usually Sophonce digients, and they don’t become better sex partners in two years than they do in two weeks. I don’t know if you’ve seen the results, but if you’re curious, I can tell you where you can find a harem of Draytas dressed in Marilyn Monroe avatars, all bleatingWanna suck dick. It’s not pretty.”
Ana laughs despite herself, as do several others in the group. “No, it doesn’t sound like it.”
“That’s not what Binary Desire is looking for. Anyone can take a public-domain digient and reconfigure its reward map. We want to offer sex partners with real personality, and we’re willing to invest the effort needed to create that.”
“So what would your training entail?” asks Helen Costas, from the back.
“First off, sexual discovery and exploration. We’d give the digients anatomically-correct avatars and let them get accustomed to having erogenous zones. We’d encourage the digients to begin sexual experimentation with each other, so they can get some practice as sexual beings and choose a gender they’re comfortable with. Since much of the learning during that phase will occur purely among themselves, there may be periods where the digients can be run at faster than real time. Once they’ve acquired a reasonable amount of experience, we’ll begin bonding them with compatible human partners.”
“What makes you so sure they’ll bond with a specific human?” asks Derek.
“Our developers have examined some of the digients in the shelters; they’re too young for our purposes, but they’ve developed emotional attachments, and our developers have done enough analysis that they believe they can induce similar attachments in older digients. As the digient gets to know a human, we’ll enhance the emotional dimension of their interactions, both sexual and non-sexual, so they’ll generate love in the digient.”
“Like a Neuroblast version of InstantRapport,” says Ana.
“Something like that,” says Chase, “but more effective and specific, because it’ll be custom-tuned. For the digient, it will be indistinguishable from falling in love spontaneously.”
“That custom-tuning doesn’t sound like something you’ll be able to get right on the first try,” says Ana.
“No, of course not,” says Ch
ase. “We expect that it will take months for a digient to fall in love; throughout that period we’ll be working with the customer, rolling the digient back to checkpoints and trying different adjustments until the emotional bond is firmly established. It’ll be like the breeding program you managed when you worked at Blue Gamma; we’re just tailoring it for the individual customer.”
Ana’s about to say that it’s very different, but decides not to. All she needs to do is listen to the woman’s sales pitch, not refute it. “I can see what you mean,” she says.
Derek says, “Even if you can make them fall in love, none of our digients is going to be a convincing Marilyn Monroe.”
“No, but that’s not our goal. The avatars we’d give them would be humanoid, but not human. You see, we’re not trying to duplicate the experience of sex with a human being; we want to provide non-human partners that are charming, affectionate, and genuinely enthusiastic about sex. Binary Desire believes this is a new sexual frontier.”
“A new sexual frontier?” says Stuart. “You mean popularizing a kink until it becomes mainstream.”
“You could call it that,” says Chase. “But try looking at it another way: our ideas of what constitutes healthy sex have always broadened over time. People used to think homosexuality, BDSM, and polyamory were all symptoms of psychological problems, but there’s nothing intrinsic about those activities that’s incompatible with a loving relationship. The problem was having one’s desires stigmatized by society. We believe that in time, digient sex will likewise be accepted as a valid expression of sexuality. But that requires being open and honest about it, and not pretending that a digient is a human.”
An icon appears onscreen indicating that Chase has transmitted a document to the group. “I’m sending you a copy of the contract we’re proposing,” she says, “but let me give you a summary. Binary Desire will cover the costs of porting Neuroblast to Real Space in exchange for non-exclusive rights to your digients. You retain the right to make and sell copies of your digients as long as they don’t compete with ours. If your digients sell well, we’ll also pay royalties. And your digients will enjoy what they do.”
“Okay, thank you,” Ana says. “We’ll take a look at the contract, and let you know. Is that all?”
Chase smiles. “Not quite. Before I release the funds, I’d like the chance to address any concerns you might have; I assure you I won’t be offended. Is it the sexual aspect that you have reservations about?”
Ana hesitates, and then says, “No, it’s the coercion.”
“There wouldn’t be any coercion. The bonding process ensures the digients will enjoy it as much as their owners.”
“But you’re not giving them any choice about what they enjoy.”
“Is it so different for humans? When I was a little girl, the idea of kissing a boy was completely uninteresting, and if it’d been up to me, that would never have changed.” Chase gives a slight, coy smile, as if to suggest how much she enjoys kissing now. “We become sexual beings whether we want to or not. The modifications Binary Desire would make to the digients aren’t any different. In fact, they’ll be better. Some people get saddled with sexual proclivities that cause them a lifetime of grief. That’s not going to happen to the digients. As far as each digient concerned, it’s going to be paired up with a perfectly compatible sex partner. That’s not coercion, that’s ultimate sexual fulfillment.”
“But it’s not real,” Ana blurts out, and immediately regrets it.
It’s precisely the opening Chase was looking for. “How is it not?” she asks. “Your feelings for your digients are real; their feelings for you are real. If you and your digient can have a nonsexual connection that’s real, why should a sexual connection between a human and a digient be any less real?”
Ana’s at a loss for words momentarily, and Derek steps in. “We could argue philosophy forever,” he says. “The bottom line is, we didn’t spend years raising our digients to have them become sex toys.”
“I realize that,” says Chase. “And making this deal won’t prevent copies of your digients from going on to other things. But right now your digients, amazing as they are, have no marketable job skills, and you can’t predict when they’ll get any. How else are you going to raise the money you need?”
How many women have asked themselves the same question, Ana wonders. “So it’s the oldest profession.”
“That’s one way to put it, but let me again point out that the digients won’t be subjected to any coercion, not even economic coercion. If we wanted to sell faked sexual desire, there are cheaper ways we could do it. The whole point of this enterprise is to create an alternative to fake desire. We believe that sex is better when both parties enjoy it; better as an experience, and better for society.”
“That all sounds very noble. What about people who are into sexual torture?”
“We don’t condone any non-consensual sex acts, and that includes sex with digients. The contract I’ve sent you guarantees that Binary Desire will retain the circuit-breakers that Blue Gamma initially installed, enforced with state-of-the-art access control. As I said, we believe sex is better when both parties enjoy it. We’re committed to that.”
“You approve, correct?” Felix says to the group. “They anticipate all possibilities.” Several of the user group members glare at him, and even Chase’s expression indicates that she’d rather do without Felix’s help.
“I know that this wasn’t what you were hoping for when you began looking for investors,” says Chase. “But if you can look past your initial reaction, I think you’ll agree that what we’re proposing will be to everyone’s advantage.”
“We’ll think about it and get back to you,” says Derek.
“Thank you for listening to my presentation,” says Chase. A window pops up on screen, indicating that the funds have been released from escrow. “Let me say one last thing. If you’re approached by another company, be sure to look at the fine print. It will probably include a clause that our lawyers wanted us to include, one that gives them the right to resell your digients to another company, with the circuit-breakers disabled. I expect you know what that means?”
Ana nods; it meant that the digients might get resold to a company like Edgeplayer for use as torture victims. “Yes, we do.”
“Binary Desire overruled our lawyers’ recommendation on that. Our contract guarantees that the digients won’t be used for anything but noncoercive sex, ever. See if anyone else will make you that same guarantee.”
“Thank you,” says Ana. “We’ll be in touch.”
#
Ana went into the meeting with Binary Desire with the attitude that it was purely pro-forma, a way to make some money by listening to a sales pitch. Now, having heard the pitch, she finds that she’s thinking about it a lot.
She hasn’t paid attention to the world of virtual sex since she was in college, when a college boyfriend spent a semester abroad. They bought the peripherals together before he left, discreet hard-shell accessories with hilarious silicone interiors, and digitally locked each device with the other’s serial number, a fidelity guarantee for their virtual genitals. Their first few sessions were unexpectedly fun, but it didn’t take long for the novelty to wear off and the shortcomings of the technology to become blatant. Sex without kissing was woefully incomplete, and she missed having her face an inch away from his, feeling the weight of his body, smelling his musk; seeing each other on a video screen couldn’t replace that, no matter how close the camera was. Her skin hungered for his in a way that no peripheral could satisfy; by semester’s end she felt like she was going to burst at the seams. The technology has undoubtedly improved since then, but it’s still an impoverished medium for intimacy.
Ana remembers how much a difference it made the first time she saw Jax wearing a physical body. If a digient were inhabiting a doll, would that make the idea of sex more appealing? No. She’s had her face right up against Jax’s face, cleaning smudges off his lens
es or inspecting scratches, and it’s nothing like being close to a person; with a digient there’s no feeling of a personal space being entered, not even the trust signified when a dog lets you rub its belly. At Blue Gamma they’d chosen not to put that kind of physical self-protectiveness into the digients—it didn’t make sense for their product—but what does physical intimacy mean if there aren’t those barriers to overcome? She doesn’t doubt that it’s possible to give a digient an arousal response close enough to human that both parties’ mirror neurons would kick in. But could Binary Desire teach a digient about the vulnerability that came with being naked, and what you were telling someone with your willingness to be naked in their presence?
But maybe none of that matters. Ana replays the recording of the videoconference, listens to Chase saying that it’s a new frontier, sex with a non-human partner. It’s not supposed to be the same as sex with another person, it’ll be a different kind of sex, and maybe it’ll be accompanied by a different kind of intimacy.
She thinks of an incident that took place when she worked at the zoo, when one of the female orangutans passed away. Everyone was heartbroken, but the orangutan’s favorite trainer was particularly inconsolable. Eventually he confessed that he’d been having sex with her, and shortly afterwards the zoo fired him. Ana was shocked, of course, but even more so because he wasn’t the creepy pervert she imagined a zoophile would be; his grief was as deep and genuine as that of anyone who had lost a lover. He’d been married once, too, which surprised her; she’d assumed such people couldn’t get a date, but then she realized she was buying into the stereotype about zookeepers: that they spent time with animals because they couldn’t get along with people. As she did at the time, Ana again tries to pin down exactly why nonsexual relationships with animals can be healthy while sexual ones can’t, why the limited consent that animals can give is sufficient to keep them as pets yet not to have sex with them. Again she can’t articulate an argument that isn’t rooted in personal distaste, and she’s not sure that’s a good enough reason.
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