DOLLS and DUDES – Chapter I



It is no coincidence that I find myself, on the third consecutive night this week, in a dimly lit elevator plunging me 2000 meters deep into the underground. The cool damp air is a welcome respite from the sweltering heat that has been plaguing the city for weeks. 

The elevator doors open up onto a 7km long underground tunnel. I sweep my wrist across a small sensor to unlock an electric 2 seater cart. I make my way to Droids Dolls & Dudes.

D&D is literally an underground venue, hosting live sex shows between sexbots and humans. They boast an assortment of state of the art sexbots for hire. They’re under surveillance for suspected contraband of models not registered with the ACC. These are reconditioned and customized before being sold on the black market.

Sexbots range from human to animals. Some are a blend of both. They are picture perfect copies of old classic Hollywood stars, mythical characters or superheroes. Who wouldn’t want a private nurse that looks, moves and sounds like Hollywoods’ once upon a time sex symbol, Marilyn Monroe? That model never got old. Humans are afflicted by nostalgia and stardom.

The ACC, Android Control Centre is way over its head. A bunch of techies, bio engineers and scientists. They’ve never had to deal with violence, androids going awol and most recently murder. The entire police force is made up of Androids. That’s where I come in.

Androids may be enslaved, but humans are no longer able to fend for themselves without Androids. I never signed up for this reality shit show. You can say I love my job as much as I hate androids, it’s directly proportional. 

Doesn’t matter how kinky or sick the sex gets, after a while, you’ve seen it all. Sexbot Kama 7 is on stage 1. He’s a vamped up version of Superman meets Dylan Dog on testosterone, from a comic series dating back to the 20th century. The little clothing he is wearing is not placed in any way for it to qualify as clothes. His only prop, a futuristic version of a jockey’s whip, which he deftly uses on some old loser’s bare ass. The client is human, white male, mid fifties, pretending to be a horse. He is wearing all the accoutrements for his role on stage and showcasing his genetic enhancement. In my opinion, he took the saying ‘hung like horse’, a little too literal. The act never changes. I turn my back to the stage, I’ve seen enough. The room is being pumped with oxygen for the human patrons. I order my usual infusion of alcohol. Straight up whisky.

“Hey Tripor, how many shows does Kama have left for the night?”

D&D’s manager, Tripor, rolls over from the other end of the bar. She doesn’t have legs, from the waist down this bot is built like a two wheel balancing scooter. From the waist up she looks like a snake charmer.

“”Kama is an ACC registered unit.”

“No matter, I need to talk to Kama asap, you hear.”

“Kama 7, performs a minimum of 25 live shows a day, after which the unit is shut down for the night, as per newly imposed restrictions. We are doing our part to help, Boris.”

“I need to talk to Kama now.”  

“There are no anomalies with Kama 7. Your request is not in line with the new regulations.”

“I need to locate his girlfriend.”

“Androids do not form emotional attachments Your request is being denied.”

“Fine, suit yourself.  I have clearance and you know what that means.”

“I will give you 10 minutes at the end of his shift, in exactly 1 hour, 23 mins.”

“This is not negotiable, as soon he’s done whipping horny horsey over there, you hand Kama over, for as long as needed. Are we clear?”

The room has turned disturbingly quiet. I look back at the stage where Kama 7 has stopped his whipping routine. He is standing perfectly still. The horny horseman, gets impatient and starts neighing and trotting around Kama, like a miserable stud in heat. I would shoot him out of his misery this instant, but I don’t have clearance for humans.

The audience starts to boo. Kama doesn’t move. Something is off. 

I hurl myself over the counter, barreling towards Tripor, “Shut him down now! For fucks sake, shut down Kama 7!” 

It’s too late. Kama 7 is snapping and ripping apart the horseman like a rag doll, saving the head for last, hurling it off stage.

The crowd is running out screaming. Other Androids are turning against human patrons. Kama 7 has disappeared in the confusion. 

Published by Maddalena Di Gregorio

“I kept always two books in my pocket, one to read, one to write in” Robert L. Stevenson

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