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All sexually active human characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: D.B. Story
Pickup at the Robot Club: Bethany & Tamarind © June 2010 D.B. Story
eXcessica publishing
A Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved
Pickup at the Robot Club:
Bethany & Tamarind
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thanks to Mulligan, VW, Gorgo, and Deryk Bramwell for their excellent and much appreciated proofreading.
Part 1—Bethany
A Friday night a few decades from now.
Jon stood at the club entrance while the doorman carefully inspected his identification. Although he was clearly thirty-something and human he'd been told to expect this, so he didn't take it personally. He used the opportunity to look out from the small landing to the floor 30 feet below and the bar stretching the full length of one wall. It was mostly dark down there with only the main bar well lit. The small tables occupied a third of the floor space, lit only by tiny lights. There was a dance floor—currently empty—that occupied another third. Old techno rock wafted up from below. From this distance, the table lights appeared as fireflies in the night. The large cubical space shouted "Warehouse," while the black walls whispered, "privacy". This was a place where secrets could be exchanged. Its relatively spartan furnishings said this was a low overhead operation. It was here to make money and its attraction didn't depend on the grandeur of the facilities, the quality or price of the alcohol served. If anything, it reminded Jon of some of the bars Hollywood created through a century or more of movies. That last century had seemed so much a simpler time.
By the end of the last decade technology had created robots that could pass for human in every way. They made excellent, obedient servants and their complex minds allowed for human interactions at near peer level. They were a growing market with new features and price drops every year. Not everybody had liked that situation.
Within a few years a vocal minority—with a bit too much civil rights on their mind in many people's opinion—had managed to ram through the amendment granting all robots Emancipation. Penalties for attempting to subvert a 'bot's autonomy started at five years hard time for each incident. The loud minority proclaimed that the brave new world had arrived—and moved on to the next burning issue. As another group had been two hundred years previously, the robots were unceremoniously dumped out on the streets to fend for themselves.
* * * *
Jon had just sort of celebrated his thirty-fourth birthday two weeks earlier when the adventure that would lead him here had started. It was all Tom and Susie's doing.
Tom and Susie were Jon's neighbors over the backyard fence. Tom had lived there for the five years since Jon had bought his little piece of suburbia next door. They were virtually the same age and spent many a weekend afternoon jawing over the common fence.
Then six months ago Susie had come into Tom's life.
Susie was absolutely gorgeous. Long light blonde hair with a gentle wave in it that framed a beautiful face and cascaded down her back. Five feet six inches of always tanned body that she never seemed to mind showing off in short shorts and a skimpy top to accent her long perfect legs, or working in the yard in some of the sexiest bikinis on the planet to accent everything else. Add a sparkling smile and personality and she was a real winner. And she absolutely loved doing everything she could for Tom.
Tom was the luckiest guy Jon knew to have a woman like Susie in his life. Not that Tom—or Jon—weren't good enough looking men. It just seemed that neither had quite clicked with the women they'd dated, and much of their pre-Susie talks across the back fence had been about their current relationships—all of which seemed to follow the same path of failure. Then Tom found Susie and you could see they were a couple from the get go.
Jon's birthday had looked to be a quiet affair. His parents lived over a thousand miles away and his younger, married sister already had two young kids to look after. Jon didn't see himself wanting kids ever. He was just not the family type. So he was facing a quiet birthday when he heard Tom and Susie over the fence. They seemed to be celebrating something so he went out to see what was happening.
They were barbecuing in the backyard and when they found out it was Jon's birthday they insisted he come right over. Turned out that Susie was sporting quite a rock on her elegant ring finger and they were celebrating their engagement. They morphed that party into an impromptu birthday celebration as well, and somewhere after Jon's third beer Susie asked him The Question.
"So, Jon, why haven't you settled down yet?"
That's a pretty personal question to a thirty-four year old bachelor, but somehow Susie could ask it in a way that seemed concerned—rather than rude.
So maybe it was the way she asked the question. Or maybe that last beer. Or maybe it was being depressed about being alone on your thirty-fourth birthday when your friend and neighbor had just bagged the most beautiful girl around. Whatever it was, Jon gave Susie The Answer.
He looked levelly into her clear, green eyes—a little hard to do given that they were above her ample and barely covered chest—and told her straight out, "Because I've never met a woman like you."
Her reaction surprised him. She turned to Tom and asked, "Does he know?"
"I don't know. I haven't told him. Have you?"
"No," she replied to her fiancée with certainty. "It never came up."
"Me neither. I guess I assumed that you'd have mentioned it along the way. It's yours to tell, but didn't he ever see your you-know-what?"
"You're too sweet when it comes to me," Susie said, giving Tom a quick kiss. "And I never wear it outside because it's going to be yours alone now."
Jon was completely baffled by their conversation. He finally had to interrupt. "Tell me what?" he demanded of them both.
Susie and Tom looked at each other. Then Tom came over and put his arm around Jon's shoulders.
"Jon, good buddy. Susie is a 'bot. A robot," he added, seeing Jon's puzzled expression. "And there are a few others like her still out there."
Jon turned to look at Susie with his mouth hanging open in an unspoken question he couldn't quite get out.
"Of course I am, silly," she said brightly back to him. "A fembot, to be precise." She seemed proud of being exactly what she was.
After that, the course of the afternoon changed radically for Jon.
There were more beers intermixed with The Story of how Tom had met Susie and how they'd fallen in love. Though robots were somewhat common now, Jon had never knowingly interacted with any, except at a couple of stores where they handled checkout duties. And although the 'bots were free now, you didn't expect one to just show up in your rather sedate neighborhood and fall in love with your best friend. It took a long time to tell the story because Jon kept interrupting with very basic—and occasional stupid—questions about robots overall. Afterwards when his head had cleared somewhat he thought he must have asked some of the questions more than once.
Jon awoke in his own bed the next morning with a very fuzzy head, and the feeling that his world had been overturned somehow. When he looked out his window, he could see Susie in her yard in a minimal yellow bikini cleaning up after yesterday's party. Jon quickly put on his old, frayed bathrobe and dashed out to the common fence.
She saw him immediately. "Hi, Jon," she greeted him brightly. "How are you feeling today?"
"A little confused," he answered truthfully. "Are you really a..."
"A robot? Of course I am. I told you that yesterday."
The world seemed to suddenly rotate a bit faster as it looked like all of Jon's memories were intact. That left only one question that mattered—and it mattered a lot.
"Could I really meet someone like you? A robot, I mean?"
Susie looked him over carefully, as if seriously assessing him for the first time before being willing to consider introducing him to any of her friends. Whatever grade he needed it seemed he passed because she replied, "Come on over tonight when Tom gets home and we'll tell you how it works."
* * * *
The doorman at the club interrupted Jon's reverie by handing him back his ID. "You may go in, sir," he said in a deep voice. In the past two weeks, Jon had learned a lot about this new subject and realized the doorman was a male robot. Male robot was redundant, Jon knew now. Robot was commonly considered the masculine term. 'Bot was gender neutral, and M-bot and Fembot were common usage to be more gender specific. Robot was rare because most 'bots were female—many of them young appearing and all of them beautiful. But a robot—m-bot here at the door did make sense for this function.
Jon also knew, despite all the privacy laws on the books, that his ID had been permanently logged with the club. Any trouble or not playing by the rules and they'd know where to find him—and pass his name to other clubs as well. 'Bots looked out for each other these days. They had to—no one else would. Susie had explained all of this before she'd even tell him where the local club was located. She had explained a lot of things about this new underground culture that was a revelation to Jon. He just hoped he remembered it all. What really mattered though was that this was how Tom had met Susie.
The doorman stood aside to let Jon pass. Jon walked down the stairs that ran down one wall to the floor.
* * * *
Freeing the robots neither changed anything fundamental in the robots themselves, nor how most humans regarded them. While many robots walked out on their owners—often with the encouragement of the rabble-rousers—their needs remained. A robot is a costly, high maintenance item, and they have a built-in desire to interact with the humans they were built to resemble. Some stayed with their former owners under new terms. Some humans threw their 'bots out themselves, then tried to collect compensation for their losses. Some of the 'bots applied for jobs in competition with humans. Some jobs they were better suited for than others. And some of them came to places like this one.
Jon reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over to sit at the bar. The women were at the tables, but he didn't want to look too eager. He ordered a drink and winced at the price. This club definitely was doing boffo business at these prices. He nursed it while he watched the action around him.
It was still relatively early and the place wasn't crowded with humans yet. The women—all fembots—sat at the small individual tables. M-bots tended the bar. If you wanted one of them you were already sitting in the right place.
Jon had heard that some human women liked to come and pretend to be 'bots to the clients in places like this. However, he was assured that a good club like this one would prevent that from happening. Any human woman here had come to cut her own deal—not be part of it. The music was just loud enough to protect the conversations at the tables from casual eavesdropping.