September 19, 2015

Robots Do It Better...

Actually, they don't. But I liked the title. See, in the past few months I've noticed a few errors that robots have made that humans would not. Or probably would not. Never underestimate stupidity, right? (I probably have a glaring typo in this, don't I? It's in between my front teeth, isn't it?)

Anyway, the first robot error I noticed was on a website. The web owner had hooked up with Yelp so the reviews appeared on her front page. (You can see where this is going, can't you?) Yes, the very first review stated simply: "This is a horrible store. Do not shop here. Only morons shop here. 1-star. Go to this other, better store instead." And then it listed a competitor by name and address.

A human would have noticed that.

The next error? I witnessed a battle online between two individuals. At the end (I think it's the end) an automated tweet from one thanked the other for being a "top interactor." Again, a human wouldn't have done that.

So sad that these are tiny scores for humanity. But it's the nuances... right?

Now, for the robot sex... This is an excerpt from an unpublished collection. The story is by my friend Georgia E. Jones who rocks my world on a daily basis. I hope to have word about the publication date of the anthology shortly. Until then, here is a snippet of...

Future Sex

Janey purchased a man-bot because the last real man (cancel that; real was no longer used as a definitive term) the last human man had ripped her heart out of her chest and raked it over the coals. She wanted nothing further to do with the vagaries of human men. But she was lonely without him. She missed being on the inside of someone else's life, and the way he had paid attention to her (though that had not lasted for long) and especially the sex. She had her toys, of course, but it was much nicer when the toy was attached to a body. It was one of the reasons people went crazy during break-ups, she thought: you were used to having someone inside you and suddenly that was gone.
Also, all her friends were raving about them. “He liked the dress I wore to the prom—and how sweet is that?” Alice said one day on the phone. She'd had hers implanted near her thyroid and there was a little interference with the waves.
“Your what?” Janey asked.
Alice cleared her throat. “Prom dress!” she said, loudly. There was a pause. “I mean, I know they get all that information from data mining and the questionnaire you fill out—but still! I was touched.”
More to the point, everyone agreed it was the best sex they'd ever had. This no doubt had a lot to do with being able to design exactly the kind of man you were most attracted to, but also, the company was finding out, women were less inhibited with man-bots. They had no problems saying exactly what they wanted, and when and how often (paying upwards of ten grand for a bot apparently had a liberating effect on the tongue) and the result was that women were happier in the bedroom (or wherever you preferred to have your sex) than they had been at any previous point in history.
That was the line the company used for advertising, anyway.
Janey just wanted to have sex with a man who wasn't going to give her that sinking sensation: She took out a car loan at her local air bank. Her Personalized Financial Affirmation was pretty clean, and when the bank officer asked her why she needed a new car (as her last had been purchased the year before) she said, straight-faced, “I need a smoother ride.”
When her man-bot arrived (he rapped on the door and said, “My name is Luke. I believe you were expecting me?”) Luke arrived with a slender bag containing his clothes. These were not numerous. 'After the initial outlay provided by the company, you will be expected to clothe your bot in your/his own taste.' Janey read in the manual. Luke didn't bring that with him. It had arrived by courier a few days earlier.
Janey had expected to feel strange, cohabiting with someone she barely knew (she wondered if it was the same for men when they moved in with their fem-bots) but they got on very well. Luke was easy to be around, a decent conversationalist, and when they weren't having sex (which was, truthfully, the best sex she'd ever had) she uploaded a language program and he spent the evenings teaching her Mandarin. The simulations were so good that he felt real: his skin under her hands, his hair, the inside of his mouth. His voice actually changed during sex, became lower, rougher. “Tell me what you want,” he would say. And even though Janey knew it was a program, her heart beat faster when she told him. He was so good at touching her. That was the amazing thing about Luke (and Henri, and Giacomo, and Dave, and...Ivar? Janey couldn't keep track of Alice's bot name. She kept changing it, which, for a small fee, you could do from your implant.) He knew just what to do to turn her on the most. Partly because she told him, and also because of the complex algorithm that allowed him to read her level of arousal and increase it. She knew that intellectually, but her body didn't know the difference. He was thoughtful, considerate. There was never anything he wanted to do more than be with her, which got to her a little, because it didn't seem human. It reminded her that she was human and he was a bot.
There were certain maintenance issues. About once a week, depending on how much she'd been using him, he locked himself in the bathroom and refused to tell her what he was doing. “Nothing sexy,” was all he would say when she pressed him. That seemed reassuringly male, but still, she wanted to know what was going on in there. She compared notes with her friends. “Oh who knows,” Kay said breezily. “They get some kind of updates that the company doesn't want you to see.” Janey found that disturbing...
Fingers crossed that I'll have news on this book shortly. Don't forget to check out Violet Blue's Wetware, which is already bathing in the adoration! And for more about Georgia, please visit:

It Takes One to Know Someone
"To Me"
A Message from Georgia
I had this fantasy...


1 comment:

Jo said...

Yes! I want a manbot. A Jason Momoa-like, if I'm honest, I can pay a little extra for his ... extra-ness. My friend and I have it all planned out.

Your bot stories are hilarious. Snort.