“Is this what it is to be a Lothario?” we/Paul asked. Always the least compassionate of us, Paul was in awe of this man’s brusque-but-charming manner that kept him surrounded with hangers-on. “I do my best at it, yeah,” our maker Ryan Budden admitted. Ten minutes ago, Ryan had come out of the bathroom with another man, much younger, and both had had wild eyes when they parted ways. His eyes now still flickered around the room, pupils dilated. “You’re pretty rude to these people,” we/Paul said. “I don’t see how this gets you what you want.” Ryan shrugged. “Some people like that sort of thing. I can be sweet,…

“Oh, you can’t go to Chase. No, no, no, nonono,” Jayden muttered. He was huddled under Lonnie Norton’s desk, examining and picking at his bare feet. Lonnie was one of very few artificials in the Transhuman Congress. It was a Norton, a genderless model built tall and thin like a pole with round heads. Anima looked askance at Jayden, then at Lonnie. “What’s wrong with this man?” she asked Lonnie in her girlish voice. It was unlikely to be a genetic flaw, but maybe he had suffered some trauma. Lonnie shrugged its narrow shoulders. “He’s been this way as long as I’ve known him. Why can’t we go to Chase,…

“I’m pretty certain they aren’t supposed to move like that,” Ser Harold Chase whispered as he watched the monitor. Anima blinked at him. “You put them into those bodies,” she said in her childish voice. “What did you expect?” She spun in circles on her seat, and we felt the little breeze through her/our hair and the pull of rotational inertia. She/we didn’t look at the monitor. Anima was our voice for Ser Harold and the Transhuman Congress. The others were used for thinking, arguing, doing Congress’s special projects, but Anima we reserved for talking. Hourig/Sirpa/we liked it that way, insomuch as Sirpa liked anything; the Congress members thought Anima…

“This is the first model of its type!” the voice above us said in breathy, fast voice. We opened our eyes — no.  One of us opened his eyes, but we all saw, and in that moment, we diverged.  He/We looked up at the human, the blushing/flushed/excited/!! human man leaning over us. “You’re awake,” the man said softly, hands covering his mouth. This was a common response when humans are overcome with emotion.  We remembered downloading similar images of women responding to the actions of an infant. Were he/we an infant?  Perhaps, another/we thought. The man — Dr. Ryan Budden, we recall — was watching us.  We thought Budden may…