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Trix Fan Art.png|<big>'''[[R3DD]]'''</big> | |||
Mikey 1 L1.png|<big>'''[[The Liar]]'''</big> | |||
Personality Setting Adjustment.png | |||
Quick | Jump to navigationJump to search | ||
|<big>'''[[DZiegler]]'''</big> | |||
Quick 390.png|<big>'''[[Dingdongdug]]'''</big> | |||
A Pleasant Morning.png|<big>'''[[Erntoron]]'''</big> | |||
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<div class="fw-subtitle"> <b> [[RS5420|Featured Artist of the Month - | <div class="fw-subtitle"> <b> [[RS5420|Featured Artist of the Month - April: Silent Lurker]] | ||
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{| class="aom-table" cellspacing="0" | {| class="aom-table" cellspacing="0" | ||
| style="background:#a6cdf0" width="25%" class="aom-left" text-align="center" | | | style="background:#a6cdf0" width="25%" class="aom-left" text-align="center" | | ||
<div align="center"><big>'''Featured Author - | <div align="center"><big>'''Featured Author - April'''</big><br> | ||
''' | '''BA'''<br> | ||
Stories: | Stories: 45 | ||
Story of the week:<br> | Story of the week:<br> | ||
''' | '''Mrs. Allen's Two O'Clock''' | ||
<small>View past [[Author of the Month Archive|Author's of the Month]].</small> | <small>View past [[Author of the Month Archive|Author's of the Month]].</small> | ||
| width="75%" style="background:#ffbb96" class="aom-right" cellpadding="5" | | | width="75%" style="background:#ffbb96" class="aom-right" cellpadding="5" | | ||
She looked a lot like Marie; short dark hair, young pretty face, her head cocked slightly to one side, mouth a little open and pretty green eyes staring away past Mrs Allen, seeing nothing. Her nurses’ tunic was open and pushed aside to reveal smooth, pale little breasts. The skin beneath her clothes was featureless, without the fine traces of freckles, lines and tiny hairs that made her face and arms appear so lifelike. Below her ribs, filling the delta of her upper abdomen was a recess where there was no skin. Here her true nature was in no doubt. | |||
A row of switches, several data ports and a small, winking blue display were below what appeared to be a hand sized access panel leading up into the chest of the shutdown robot therapist. A red power cable leading from a wall socket was connected to her input port and her display read CHARGING as it flashed on and off. Another, thinner lead was connected between one of the girl’s data ports and a PC trolley beside her. The large flat-screen display was headed LOADING CLIENT DATA and Mrs Allen could make out her name and address from where she stood. The nametag on the still girl’s top was Bobbi. | |||
She | Mrs Allen looked at the set up without much surprise. She hadn’t booked in advance and even as wealthy a firm as this didn’t spend money on maintaining its robots to let them “dispose of their own free time” between bookings. Anyway these models were pretty, but not sophisticated. They were probably not even sufficiently sentient to notice the empty soulnessness of their mechanical lives. | ||
Catching herself staring, Mrs Allen drew away abruptly, with her second towel in her hand. She felt a little odd at seeing Bobbi deactivated like this. Not that she liked her; Bobbi was cut from the same cloth as Marie; fake through and through. Her inane cheerful babble had annoyed Mrs Allen in the past. Still there was something about the contrast between her usual (artificial?) vivaciousness and her current stillness….. | |||
<div align="center"><small>'''[[Stories/BA|BA]]''' - ''[[Mrs. Allen's Two O'Clock]]''</small></div> | |||
<div align="center"><small>'''[[Stories/ | |||
|} | |} | ||
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Revision as of 21:44, 31 March 2023
|
Featured Author - April BA Story of the week: View past Author's of the Month. |
She looked a lot like Marie; short dark hair, young pretty face, her head cocked slightly to one side, mouth a little open and pretty green eyes staring away past Mrs Allen, seeing nothing. Her nurses’ tunic was open and pushed aside to reveal smooth, pale little breasts. The skin beneath her clothes was featureless, without the fine traces of freckles, lines and tiny hairs that made her face and arms appear so lifelike. Below her ribs, filling the delta of her upper abdomen was a recess where there was no skin. Here her true nature was in no doubt. A row of switches, several data ports and a small, winking blue display were below what appeared to be a hand sized access panel leading up into the chest of the shutdown robot therapist. A red power cable leading from a wall socket was connected to her input port and her display read CHARGING as it flashed on and off. Another, thinner lead was connected between one of the girl’s data ports and a PC trolley beside her. The large flat-screen display was headed LOADING CLIENT DATA and Mrs Allen could make out her name and address from where she stood. The nametag on the still girl’s top was Bobbi. Mrs Allen looked at the set up without much surprise. She hadn’t booked in advance and even as wealthy a firm as this didn’t spend money on maintaining its robots to let them “dispose of their own free time” between bookings. Anyway these models were pretty, but not sophisticated. They were probably not even sufficiently sentient to notice the empty soulnessness of their mechanical lives. Catching herself staring, Mrs Allen drew away abruptly, with her second towel in her hand. She felt a little odd at seeing Bobbi deactivated like this. Not that she liked her; Bobbi was cut from the same cloth as Marie; fake through and through. Her inane cheerful babble had annoyed Mrs Allen in the past. Still there was something about the contrast between her usual (artificial?) vivaciousness and her current stillness….. |
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