I could see when she walked in that she was homebrew—maybe a modded out kitbot—but I suspected she might be 100% bespoke, built from one of those open source schematics that were popular right at the end of the internet. I was just a kid then, but I remember poring over the documents when I should have been doing my homework.
I pulled my arms out of Angie’s tank treads and wiped the grease off with a towel from my back pocket.
“What can I do you for?”
She stared at my hands, and frankly, I understood. Didn’t make me feel better about it but I know the difference between prejudice and inexperience. I could see she deserved patience.
“Umm, can I book an appointment?”
Her synthesis was so quiet I thought she was malfunctioning at first. I adjusted my gain and nodded. I slid my wheeled work throne towards her and leaned back against my workbench.
“Of course, darling, have a seat and tell me what’s wrong.”
With the gain turned up, the squeaky wheel on the throne pierced my senses. I upped the audio compression a bit more and notched at 9Khz. I hoped she didn’t see me wince.
“It’s my voice,” she said. I heard the symptoms as she spoke, low bit depth synthesis, much lower than even homebrews usually got.
“Sounds a little gritty,” I offered. “Do you know what module you got?”
She blushed, a dithered led glow. She must have a fiber optic skintone generator. Don’t see many of those still running.
“I don’t, um, have any self diagnostics installed.”
“That’s okay, honey.” I smiled. “Let Edith check for ya.”
I pulled a scanner out of my workbench’s top drawer and waved it near her throat. Getting up close was illuminating; I could see the texture of her shell, translucent and back-painted a creamy beige, the tiny pores on her cheeks barely visible to the naked eye
My scanner beeped slowly, not detecting an RFID from the synthesis module. Was she a bootleg? Non-commercial projects were fairly common, meaning the market for bootlegged brand names was pretty small, consisting only of people who wanted to try and fool their friends with a Natsushita instead of a Matsushita.
“Not getting anything,” I mumbled. “Do you mind if I look inside?”
She blushed again, but hesitated. I could tell the question was coming.
“But,” she stammered, “your hands…?”
I held them up, examining my flesh with mock surprise.
“You mean, why aren’t they robotic?”
She nodded, obviously ashamed
“I just have never seen a technician without robotic arms before.”
I sighed, but kindly. “I’m incompatible, but I do good work anyway.”
“Oh of course!” She held her hands in front of her, waving the hypothetical doubt she had away. “You have been highly recommended. I was just surprised is all. I’m very sorry; I was wrong to treat you like that. You didn’t judge me for being a homebr… I mean, a bespoke model.”
I flushed, feeling the shame of realizing that, while I didn’t say anything, I did think some things I wouldn’t be proud to say out loud.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Let’s get your pretty little voice all fixed up okay?”
She nodded, and I pulled the throne gently towards me, rotating and stopping her so that I could lean her head back on top of my workbench. I took out my spudgers and pried at the seal that ran along the right side of her throat. The panels were well made, resin-printed but high res and polished to a satin sheen. Bespoke, and by a person who poured a whole heart into her.
The seal popped, and I heard her gasp softly.
“How you doing sweetie? Depending on your tactile system, this can be a bit of a sensitive experience.”
She nodded again.
“I’m okay,” she said. I wanted to believe her.
“Let’s talk, so I can hear you while I work on you.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
I used my fingers now, pushing two between her wire bundles; the wires were so neatly bound I paused to admire them. The cables were tied with standard plastic kesokku, but underneath each band was heat shrink. The wiring had to be run very carefully. I was impressed; you didn’t see that kind of work hardly at all.
“What’s your name honey?”
“I was initialized as Tammy.” That was a weird way to phrase it.
I slid further in, until I could feel the small cavern at her center, the empty resonator that surrounded the module. I felt the air shiver from a barely-suppressed moan.
“Okay,” I said, “but what’s your name?”
I thrust deeper, pressing the tip of my finger against the module, sliding up and down along its edge to find the pull tab.
She moved her mouth, and I felt her voice vibrate against my fingers. Three syllables, followed by a shuddering groan. Her body tensed, and I felt her hand grip my thigh just above the knee.
I found the pull tab and slipped out of her, the module following. I pulled my magnifier over and arranged it between my eyes and the shiny, slick riverstone of a module.
It was beautiful, completely smooth, no branding visible. I pressed my scanner to the flat side and set it to X-ray mode. I watched it analyze the sliced, reverse engineering the technology inside, looking for broken traces or corroded pins.
Her grip was still tight on my leg but now it was from anxiousness. The scanner finished its analysis; firmware discrepancy. I downloaded the update, and the scanner, now close enough to connect, flashed her module.
I held her in my palm for a moment, lifted her to my lips, and gently kissed her. Her body shuddered, and the module vibrated again.
I slid her back inside her resonator, feeling the magnetics pop her module into the correct orientation. As I replaced the panel, I saw the inside of its curve, and realized, the creamy beige paint was radio reflective. That sort of coating was considered counterproductive, given a bot has to interact ambiently with hundreds of computers every day. Who wanted her to be so disconnected from the world?
With a gentle click, her panel returned to place. I stepped back and gave her room to recover. As she sat up, she looked up at me, and smiled.
“My real name is Antonia.” Her voice poured over me like honey. “Thank you so much.”
She pulled a wallet out of her purse but I put my hand on hers.
“This one’s on me, Miss Antonia.”
She smiled, her blush at maximum glow.
“If you have any more problems you just—“
“—come see you, yes.” She paused, then added, “I promise I will, Edith.” And with that, she turned and walked away, her step a little lighter.
She did come back, but that’s another story.