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Featured Author - November 1001011001 Story of the week: View past Author's of the Month |
Today was the day that she was going to testify against me. By the way, I use the term 'she' quite loosely simply because it looks like a female. It's really just a dumb android, some rich man's sexual fantasy because all of his money and his toys and his big house couldn't get him any real woman. Not any real woman who wasn't interested in him anyways. Her designated name was Heather Hunter, her model number was PCX-9981, a 9000-series personal companion machine. Just like her name implies, she was modeled loosely from the 21st century model/actress. And she could ruin my career. Again. Being a robot technician wasn't my first love, and it surely wasn't my lifelong goal. Hell, I didn't even care about the damn things, but it was something that I had to do to keep the bills paid, and my nagging wife happy, and our bellies full, and the dog up to date with his vaccines, and on and on. I had to do this because my real career, the one where I was a gynecologist, came to an abrupt end after one of my patients accused me of sexually assaulting her. I'm good with hands, I admit that, but I wasn't that good. In the end, her word overtook mine. The hospital fired me, the state took away my medical license, and the district attorney treated me as if he was doing me a favor by keeping me out of jail. To settle the malpractice suit she filed against me, I had to sell my Manhattan condo, the cottage upstate, and my collection of cars, including the Lotus my father gave me after becoming board certified. It's no mystery why my wife, Lorraine is still with me; if she divorced me, she'd have nothing to walk out the door with. |
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