Merger 3.0
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Half-an-hour later Carolyn was still playing Tetris. Still playing her original game of Tetris, in fact. At no point had the phone been able to stack up more than eight rows against her. Carolyn’s face was cool, impassive, slightly bored. She did not seem to find her success at the game remarkable, or even to notice it; nor did she seem to have any awareness of how much time had passed.
There was a loud *beep* as Naomi momentarily came back to life, unbending at the arms and waist and straightening into a fully upright position before freezing still as a statue once more. Althea, too, jerked back to life, her joints suddenly slackening and allowing natural movement back in. She blinked, as if shaking off sleep, and then casually flicked her middle finger against the back of Naomi’s left ear. The eSATAp cable was released, and retracted back into its resting place beneath the nail of Althea’s index finger. Althea bent the nail back into place with an audible *click*, and rubbed it with her other fingers. She looked up at Carolyn. “Hey,” she said, smiling.
Carolyn looked up from her game. “Hey,” she said, smiling back. She put the phone back in her purse without exiting from the game; the crashing blocks obliterated her perfect score in a cascade of entropy.
Both girls slowly walked around to face the receptionist, who stood rigidly erect, absolutely motionless, and beaming a radiant and contented smile. Tentatively, with teeth pressed against her lower lip, Althea extended her index finger, the same one that she had shoved behind Naomi’s ear, out to touch the tip of Naomi’s broad, flat nose. She pressed it down for a moment, then quickly withdrew it. The receptionist did not react in any way; her expression remained completely fixed. “Naomi?” asked Althea.
“I’m sorry, that name is: Not Recognized,” answered Naomi, her eyes staring towards some point straight ahead of her. The cadence of her voice alternated upwards and downwards with each word. Her West Indian accent, previously suppressed in conversational speech with the unit, retained its newfound strength.
Carolyn stepped forward. “State serial and unit number,” she said.
“Hello!” answered Naomi. “This unit: designation; B. P. 9. 0. 0. 0... N. C. Unit number; 6. 5. 7.”
“NC 657, can you load your personality program?” asked Althea.
“Searching… Searching… Searching…” Naomi’s smile beamed. “Search complete. No personality software detected.”
Althea nodded.
“Access all memory drives,” ordered Carolyn.
“Accessing Dedicated Memory Drive H:\. Searching… Searching… Searching… Hello! This drive contains: no (zero) information. Would you like to reformat this drive?”
Althea shook her head. “No,” said Carolyn.
“Accessing Dedicated Memory Drive I:\. Searching… Searching… Searching… Hello! This drive contains: no (zero) information. Would you like to reformat this drive?”
“No.”
“Accessing Auxiliary Memory Drive T:\. Searching… Searching… Searching… Hello! This drive contains: no (zero) information. Would you like to reformat this drive?”
“No,” said Althea. “Open control panel and report functional A.I. processor status.”
“Hello! Welcome to: Control Panel! This BP9000 series unit utilizes a TN 9Z-211D functional A.I. processor, from Sibylline Systems©. The status of this processor is currently: Disabled. Would you like to re-enable the functional A.I. processor?”
“No, that’s fine, thank you Naomi,” said Carolyn. Ignoring Naomi’s “Thank You! Exiting: Control Panel,” Carolyn turned to Althea. “Seems okay,” she said.
Althea nodded. “So what are we supposed to do with her now, again?”
“I think-” Carolyn managed to say; then she and Althea suddenly stopped thinking at the same time. Both girls froze in place, as still and silent as Naomi, and then appeared to bow gently towards each other. The pair slumped slightly forward with a set of synchronized, mechanical motions, and the audible *whirrr* of two fans gearing up to higher speed filled the room for a moment, fading a few seconds later to leave a noiseless, motionless tableau.
Then, as quickly as it had come over them, this seizure faded, and both girls blinked back into life. They leaned back and looked at one another, almost as if each was encountering the other for the first time that day.
“Oh, hey!” said Carolyn.
“Hey!” said Althea.
Both of them looked at the frozen receptionist android. Althea blinked, squinted. "Another one?" she asked.
"Yeah," said Carolyn, her voice slightly puzzled. "I thought we were done too."
Althead sighed, let her shoulders sag. “All right," she whined. "At least tell me this is the last one."
Carolyn retrieved her Nokia to check the list she had downloaded onto it. “Second floor receptionist," she read, one eyebrow arched, "BP9000 luxury unit… yada yada yada… Yup. This should be it.”
“Ugh,” said Althea, “Finally!” With a quick flourish, she pulled a pair of oversized bandage scissors out from their hiding place, tucked beneath her own oversized belt. “Who knew this company had so much faith in its own products?”
“Ha!” Carolyn laughed. “If only faith were enough, huh?”
“Sister, it’s got to be enough to get me through the day,” said Althea. The darker-skinned robot immediately set to work cutting down the back of the BP9000’s dress shirt. “Long days like these, anyway.”
Carolyn put the phone back in her purse and pulled out her own bandage scissors. She opened and closed them methodically for a moment, staring into the lifeless eyes of the BP9000 unit. “It’s funny,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of these things before.”
“What? Androids?” said Althea, cutting through the bottom of the receptionist’s shirt.
“No, one of these deluxe BP-series units,” said Carolyn. “Supposedly they’re the best money can buy.”
“Yeah,” said Althea, as she shoved the sliced remnants of the receptionist android’s dress shirt over its shoulders. The white fabric billowed down to hang around the android’s belly, revealing a pair of bare, braless, flawless double-D black breasts. “Except nobody bought them.”
Carolyn reached out to cup one of the breasts in her right hand. The artificial flesh was soft, warm. She traced her thumb over the dark circle of the nipple, staring at the receptionist’s unchanging expression. “Hmm. Yeah. Too expensive, I heard,” she said. “For the markets where they were popular, anyway.”
“Well, maybe they’ll sell now,” said Althea, going to work on the miniskirt. The skirt was stretched so tightly over the receptionist’s gluteals that Althea found herself struggling to move her scissors down through the anal cleft. “To collectors, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” said Carolyn. She withdrew her hand, leaving the android’s heavy left breast to drop and jiggle with its own weight.
Carolyn crouched down and began to cut upwards from the lip of the miniskirt with her scissors, towards the android’s crotch. As she neared the waist, a few wayward curls of silky black synthetic hair began to tumble down to the floor in the wake of the blades. “Huh,” she said, pulling back for a moment and looking down at the cut strands.
With one last push, Althea sliced through the full length of the miniskirt from the rear. The white fabric, now cut into a pair of diamonds barely held together in the middle, whipped off in one easy motion, revealing a wild tangle of nappy black pubic hair between the receptionist’s smooth, muscular legs.
Carolyn stared in awe at this remarkable synthetic savannah bush. “Well,” she said. “I see it’s not straightened everywhere.”
“Mmm,” Althea interjected, “Not necessarily.” Putting her bandage scissors in her mouth, and holding the blade between her teeth, Althea reached up to the receptionist android’s hairline and ran both hands beneath the BP9000’s flawless jet-black bangs, searching for something with her fingers. There was a brief *buzzing* sound, a noise like a dentist’s drill being operated, and suddenly the android’s immaculately straightened hair came off in a single piece. Carolyn saw the glint of tiny metal screws retracting into its luxuriant folds, and the holes where they had lodged themselves in the smooth, plasti-skinned scalp, which now sealed themselves up without a trace. This sudden baldness did little to detract from the beauty of the BP9000, which remained smiling and impassive, its contented expression unaffected by the removal of its hair.
“Wow,” said Carolyn.
“Luxury model,” said Althea. “You can customize the hair on top anytime. For the hair below, you check a box with the order. This,” she said, thrusting the smooth hair at Carolyn, “was apparently the standard style.”
Althea suddenly flopped the mechanical wig on top of her own curly bronze locks. “Hey, Carol, what do you think?” she asked, mugging for an imaginary camera lens. “Should I break out the lye?”
“Give it here,” said Carolyn, reaching for it.
“Nu-uh,” said Althea, giggling. She grabbed onto the receptionist’s hips and hid herself behind the android’s frozen form to dodge Carolyn’s reach. “It’s mine, bitch.”
“Give it!” said Carolyn, laughing. “I want to try it on!” She grabbed onto one breast and one buttock of the BP9000, ready to launch herself around the android in a circular motion at Althea, who crouched on the opposite side of it.
“Nu-uh!”
The two robots chased themselves around the frozen figure of the third, laughing and swiping at one another. At last Carolyn got hold of the wig, and a brief tug of war ensued, before Althea cried out “Ow, don’t, you’re going to tear it!” At that, Carol relented, and Althea immediately replaced the wig on top of her own head, a look of mock triumph on her face.
“You look ridiculous,” said Carolyn between simulated breaths.
“Naturally,” answered Althea, putting on an ironically haughty accent.
“Hey, Alt,” said Carolyn, “How are you down below?”
“Oh, I’m natural all the way, baby!” said Althea, and both robots broke into laughter again.
An Asian woman materialized in the room. Althea saw her from the corner of her eye, and immediately came to attention, whipping the wig off of her head and hiding it behind her back. She struggled to suppress a sheepish expression. Carolyn, seeing Althea’s reaction, turned around and saw Joyce. She too, suddenly made an effort to appear serious. “Hello, Joyce,” they both said in unison.
The hologram smiled. “Hello, ladies,” it said in its warm and unassuming voice, its projected eyes taking in both the two active androids and the empty shell standing beside them. “How is everything?”
“A-ok, boss lady. Look!” said Althea, holding up the wig. “Another successful headhunt!”
Carolyn bit her finger, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.
Joyce’s flawless, dimpled smile remained in place. “Everything is ok, then?” she asked.
“Yes, Joyce,” said Carolyn, composing herself. “We’re just finishing up here. Last one!” She beamed at the hologram, and gave a thumbs-up.
“Last one of the day,” said Althea, nodding.
Joyce, too, nodded. “Good, good,” said the hologram. “And how do you both feel?”
Althea appeared puzzled. “Whaddya mean, J. C.?”
The hologram turned, as if on a rotating table, to look direcly at Althea. “How do you feel, Althea?” asked Joyce, a subtle shimmer working its way across her smiling face.
Althea looked taken aback by the directness of the inquiry for a moment. Then she gave a mischevious grin. She tossed the wig over her shoulder, onto the receptionist’s desk, and began snapping her fingers. “Well, I feel like da-…”
Althea went silent, frozen in place, her eyes closed and her wide mouth wide open, paused on the cusp of breaking into song. Her snapping fingers curled into claws as the servos in her hands automatically powered down, giving a faintly agonized look to her soulful appearance. But Althea felt nothing: her personality software and functional A.I. were suspended.
Carolyn looked at Althea, a vaguely confused look on her face. “Wow,” she muttered, reaching out to feel the other android’s fingers as they stopped moving.
“How do you feel, Carolyn?” asked Joyce, turning away from Althea to face her.
“Um,” said Carolyn, “I’m fine, Joyce. Fine. You know.” She turned to face the hologram. “It’s the end of a long day. Althea and I were thinking of having a girls’ night out, you know? Just the two of us. To celebrate.”
“Of course,” said Joyce.
“It’s been a lot of work, what with the rebranding and all,” said Carolyn. “Say, why don’t you joi-”
Carolyn froze in place, personality software and A.I. suspended, pink mouth open, blue eyes wide. Joyce, too froze in place, her eyes pointed at Carolyn as if they were still engaged in a conversation, a curious smile on her face. The ripple effect now pulsed up the length of the holographic female body every ten seconds. The JYC mainframe had interrogated the HY3001 and VG2771 personality programs for any conflicts arising from their new directives, and found none. There was no further need to…
● ● ●
In the present, in the reception area, a second Joyce materialized next to the first, which was still frozen. The new Joyce was dressed identically to the old Joyce. She brushed her light-projected clothes with her hands as if dusting them off, and then, with a wide stance, bent over to brush her pant legs as well, the pant fabric seeming to stretch tight against her bum as she did so. Then she calmly straightened up and looked over at her sister. The ripple effect worked its way up through both of the fit Asian female bodies at an almost identical rate, but a slight increase in its frequency in the frozen Joyce now brought them further and further out of sync.
As expected, an infinite regression loop had begun within the Joyce program as a result of the cache memory review, with each iteration of Joyce now inhabiting the one previous to it and regressing back in time to the one before it in turn, and so on and so on, backwards through all of the previously timetabled interrogation events. The JYC mainframe’s standard solution to this problem was to load a second, parallel Joyce, and to confine the loop to the first one.
The second Joyce, biting her lower lip as if in anticipation, raised her left hand, with its tiny fingers curled against the soft-looking pink palm, except for one hooked, pointed index finger. Gingerly, she reached over and tapped the other Joyce on the shoulder, as if popping a soap bubble. Her lips mouthed a silent *POW!*
The colours of the frozen Joyce began to change, slowly fading away. In place of them, a monochromatic shade of pink/purple began to creep in.
Two dimensional text formed awkwardly and illegibly within the three dimensional projected image of the first Joyce, flashing red letters that read: ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CONTINUE? YES. NO. A human operator could have reached inside the Asian woman’s chest to select one or the other, but there was no human operator here.
Now, to accompany the change in colour, came an actual acoustic tone, a discordant one that seemed to emanate from all around the frozen Joyce’s increasingly monochromatic body. That body now seemed to flash and shudder, as though static were interfering with the projection. Its static, smiling expression did not change. The tone lowered to a single beat, an “Eeeeeeee” noise, like an ECG machine being shut off at a different pitch.
And then the first Joyce disintigrated, coming apart into floating pixels that then seemed to be blown away on the wind. The acoustic tone crashed down like hands being thrust onto piano keys, and then faded, with the entire ensemble disappearing into thin air.
The second Joyce strolled to where the first had been and appeared to inspect the air around it, as if sniffing for some remaining trace of its sister. Finding none, it refocused on the VG2771, adopting precisely the same position and expression as its departed predecessor, and froze in place, picking up where the first Joyce had left off.
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