Other than Human
Adela Noonan was bored. Here she was, fifty odd and fast approaching the age when fertile females settle on a child rearing partner and take time off for an offspring, and she was doing nothing useful with her life She realised, of course, that, not belonging to the 'WF' (Woman Fertile) class, she was not able to conceive, even if she found a Male Fertile. It was not a matter of choice or compulsion, 'WN's had been genetically modified before implantation to be infertile. It was simply a necessary requirement to keep down population numbers, now that other genetic modification had slowed the aging process.
"Take a break," Adela told her autosec. "I've got one or two things to sort out."
"Do you want me to try the busy fax numbers again for the reminders?" it asked.
"Oh yes," she said. "I'd forgotten about them."
The glorified computer didn't say anything. It just quietly switched off its view screen. Adela felt, absurdly, that the machine was being just a little smug. 'Smug' is one of the feelings artificial brains can't reproduce: the irritation probably sprang from her own mild annoyance with herself for forgetting to send the reminder and switch off the view screen. Computers do not forget. It is possible accidentally to erase data, even with all the fail safe devices, but computers themselves do not forget and, after all, an autosec is just a computer.
Adela got up, put on her jacket and wandered out of her office. She nodded vaguely to a young man going into the rest room, but she didn't really know the other tenants of the building very well.
"That," she thought, "is hardly surprising. After all, I've only been here a short while."
At one time everyone had worked from home, as you will recall, but the sociologists had established the rather obvious fact that you don't meet people in your own home and that social relationships are helped if you meet others while you work. Hence the office block with its individual, fully equipped offices and its common rest room.
She went out onto the street.
"What I need is a partner," she thought. It was nearly ten years since her last one. It wasn't any fear of losing her own identity or any social shortcoming of which she was aware that had made her keep her aloneness. She was reasonably nice looking and reasonably intelligent. As genetic modification didn't allow any great variation from the norm, so that was true of most people. It wasn't even worries about AIDS, since everyone under eighty had an engineered resistance to the HIV virus.
She wandered along the street and wondered what the problem was. A partner of either sex would be a welcome relief from boredom. Or would she or he?
Adela turned into a MacDonatelli's cafe, sat down and spoke her order into the orderphone.
"A frothy coffee and a dinky biscuit, please," she said.
She tried to imagine that there was a real person at the other end of the line, because she always felt slightly absurd being polite to a machine. On the other hand, she had discovered that the computer controlling the order phone was mildly responsive to the way it was spoken to. If one missed off the 'please' when addressing it, the machine missed off all frills in its reply, and she didn't want the machine to be rude to her. That was also faintly absurd.
"Will that be a large or a super large MacDonatelli Italian Style frothy coffee?" the machine asked. It had the sickly sweet voice of a human bordering on the subnormal, and she resisted the urge to say 'Small' with great difficulty: that was precisely what it meant.
"Large."
"And will that be a large or a giant Super Crunchy MacDinky biscuit?" it continued.
Adela's teeth grated. "Large," she said with heavy patience.
"That will be one Unit ten Subunits," said the machine. "Please place your currency card in the slot provided."
Adela felt for her wallet and extracted the card. She put it in the reader slot and placed the palm of her hand on the identification plate. There was a slight whirring, the card ejected from the slot and the machine said, "Thank you. One moment please."
A few seconds later a small paper cup and a minute biscuit were delivered in a paper bag via the little hatch at the side of the table.
Adela braced herself. "Enjoy your meal and have a nice day," the machine said.
"Have a nice...." She'd like to line up against a wall and shoot the stupid sods who programmed it!
The drink was indeed hot and frothy and tasted quite pleasant, though whether it was coffee was debatable. The geneticists had done so much to popular food plants that their old names were no longer strictly accurate in some cases. Coffee was quite a good example. Caffeine had been genetically removed from all varieties of the plant back in the last century. Was the resulting plant still coffee? A moot point.
As she drank it coffee or not Adela thought more on the problem of being bored. There was no point in taking a partner for the sake of it. She decided she would look into retraining for another job.
"Something less routine and either more physically and emotionally demanding, like nursing, or more intellectually challenging, like law, seemed called for. She would need an intelligence assessment for academic study, of course, but that was easily arranged. In the meantime she thought she would solve the partner problem in the short term with a robot. It was more usual to find robots used by those too old to be immune to HIV and unable to attract a long term partner, but such a plan offered a useful solution to her own immediate problem. There was a sexual supplies shop in the next street but one, and she made up her mind to pay a call there when she finished work at two that day.
On the matter of retraining, she decided to ring as soon as she got back to her office and arrange an intelligence assessment and felt somewhat better. Her own decisiveness on both points cheered her up, as any counsellor will affirm is normal, so she put her paper cup, the biscuit wrapper and the paper bag in the Instant MacCycler and got up. She thought she had better MacOff before she was driven MacPotty.
Adela rested her hand on the fingerprint reader and waited while it checked her records and opened the door. It slithered soundlessly open and she went into the office.
"Did you manage to get through on those calls?" she asked the autosec as she reentered.
"I'm sorry, I didn't understand you," said the machine. Please repeat that."
Adela sighed.
"Were you able to fax the reminders?" she asked, more slowly and clearly.
"Yes," it replied."
"Well let me see the viewscreen then," she told it as she took off her jacket, and the screen lit up, though there was nothing on it.
"Show me the reminder schedule," Adela instructed, and the data scrolled itself dutifully down the screen.
The computer had indeed faxed all the reminders out but then, if a computer says it has done something, it invariably has
"Okay. You can turn off the viewscreen for now," she said, and it did.
Adela turned towards the video phone and asked it to get her the Academic Assessment Unit. There was a very slight pause while it checked the online directory and then beeped out the right digital sequence.
The screen spelt out the one word 'dialling', which was an archaic expression which approximated to what it was doing. The word changed to 'ringing' , also not strictly accurate, and then, almost immediately, came to life.
An older woman in her mid eleventies appeared.
"Academic Assessments. Can I help you?" she said, and smiled professionally.
Adela had not had cause to go into a sexual supplies shop before, not that she was in the least bit worried what others might think. Such a concern might have been genuinely something to consider a hundred or even fewer years ago, but it wasn't any more. However, she was slightly conscious that she lacked experience or a background awareness - like going into an expensive restaurant or a golf club for the first time perhaps.
In the window was a display of vibrators of various sorts more extensive a range than the supermarket carried along with various aids to enjo
yment with a partner and a selection of robots, male and female. One or two robots of both sexes looked quite inviting.
She opened the door and went in.
"Can I help you?" asked a woman of about Adela's age, smiling" reassuringly.
"I was thinking of a robot," said Adela. "I'm between partners..." she didn't say, ten years between ... "and I thought a robot might fill the gap, so to speak."
"I'm looking for a good home," said a tall female dressed in frilly knickers and a 'come hither' smile. "At the moment I'm programmed AC/DC. Want to share me with a partner?"
"I said I was between partners," answered Adela, becoming aware only as she said it that she was speaking to a robot.
The shop assistant, who was human as far as she knew, smiled. "We can reprogram her while you wait, if you like," she said.
"I think I'd like to look at all the possibilities before I make up my mind," said Adela.
"Suit yourself," said the robot, rather abruptly.
Adela decided that she didn't like her - it - much. She wondered whether it was something to do with the AC/DC programming. She had to admit that it was very realistic, though, and wondered how good she - it - would be in bed.
"What else do you have?" she asked.
"We have some very interesting male robots," said the human. "They're programmed to respond to your preferences and recognise an orgasm. They learn from experience too, up to a point. In addition, they're all fully equipped with a vocally operated override for safety and comfort. All in all, they are very satisfying as physical partners, though they are a bit limited intellectually. "
"Unlike the men I've encountered," remarked Adela, "They tend to be quite good intellectually but hopeless in bed,"
"Well, when violence and aggression was engineered out of them, all sexual assertiveness seems to have gone with it. one of the costs I'm afraid."
"You sound regretful," commented Adela.
"Not really," answered the woman. "It has made a lot of business for us. Quite a significant proportion of women like a little assertiveness while remaining in overall control. We can program that into any robot, no problem. With the override you still remain in control, while having as much of whatever you want. We can programme for absolutely any taste, requirement or fetish," she said.
"I'm not into domination," Adela, remarked, "but the men I've met have seemed a little ... well, flat."
"Ah," said the woman with a knowing smile, and she dropped her voice conspiratorially, "if you don't fancy a robot but you miss a little ... " She hesitated, searching for an appropriate word but falling back on one well tried already. "... assertiveness, I think I can do something for you."
"Yes?"
"Yes. We have undertaken a little genetic manipulation of our own, at least our suppliers have. There's nothing actually illegal about it, though the authorities might very soon make it illegal if they knew we were doing it."
"Go on." Adela was curious.
"We have genetically engineered the ideal partner. Either sex, of course. The male version is not too bright, but he can be trained to do housework and cooking, as well as to be exceedingly good in bed. Always ready and, like a robot, he doesn't take offence if you don't feel like it. Got a dong like a donkey and a good physique."
"But they'd take years to mature and train and what would you do with them if you got tired of them?" objected Adela.
The woman paused. The hesitation was just long enough for Adela to realise that there was more to what she was being offered than she had been told so far .
"That's what the authorities might object to if they realised what we're doing. These partners are engineered to develop quickly and age quite quickly as well.At about five or less they're ready to train, you get about fifteen years good use from them. We'll give you a fair trade in before that or dispose of him or her for you after that."
"But that sounds rather callous treatment for a human," said Adela, worried.
"Oh no," the woman answered quickly, "They're not real humans, any more than a dog is. They look like the traditional ideal of a male or female human, depending on which sex they are, of course, but they're not human. They're a sort of animated robot. For women they're better than a robot, because a robot tends to be a bit heavy and lacking in give when it lies on you. Some of the robots are very good though," she added quickly, in defence of her own wares.
For the first time Adela wondered whether genetic manipulation simply speeded up evolution or created something new and different. Was she a human, within the traditional meaning of the word? Was the woman in the shop? It would have been a problem for theologians or philosophers, were they not both extinct species and ethics an extinct study. Was the race still the human race? If it wasn't, could genetic engineering be considered evolution, or was it mutation?
The moment passed though, as she realised that it was too late for her to undo the genetic changes that made her what she was. Anyway, she didn't know that she wanted to: it was no more than a little flicker of doubt, like a cloud passing momentarily over the sun. It was the old Adela that spoke.
"Okay," she said, "If I say I'll have one how long do I have' to wait and how much do I have to pay?"
"There's a bit more to it than that. Are you 'WF or 'WN'' ?"
"N. Non Fertile."
"Good. But I'll need to see your Identity Card to check your status for myself. Our suppliers want us to be more than just careful. We have to be absolutely scrupulous. Some of the males I referred to are fertile, so we can only sell a female to a 'WF'. We would certainly be in trouble with the regulations if we started selling fertile mentally subnormals to 'WF's. Our suppliers have several of each sex in training now. We can arrange for them to deliver this evening. On the other hand, they're rather expensive, I'm afraid. Twelve thousand four hundred and thirty five Units, though we can do long term credit on them, subject to status, if you require."
Adela thought about it. All right," she said at length, "I can afford it, so I'll have one. A male."
The woman pulled a catalogue from beneath the counter. "There are holograms and descriptions of personal partners here," she said. "Look through and choose."
Adela looked. It was difficult to make a choice from a book, but they all certainly looked hunky. "This one." she said pointing.
"Roger will arrive this evening," said the woman, as Adela took out her holocard and her ID Card, thinking that she'd better tidy up the flat.
Adela realised as she finished the housework that she would have to nip round to the all hours Super Store for a few odds and ends. She thought how much more convenient it would be to just vid. for the things you needed and have them delivered. Of course, Super Stores didn't want you to buy only what you needed they wanted you to buy a lot of things you didn't need as well. That's why they would deliver, but you had to go there in person. You could bet your boot disks that, if she went to the Super Store, Roger would arrive while she was out.
She was still wondering what to do when the door announced a caller. Adela knew, of course, exactly who it would be, but she looked at the view screen which took up most of one wall of the living room. The programme was interrupted and the scene at the front door appeared.
The woman from the sex shop smiled and said, "Just dropping Roger off to meet you."
"Okay," she said, straining for a sign of her future partner, "come on up."
"Let me introduce you," said the woman, as Adela came to the door. "Adela, this is Roger. Roger, Adela."
He kissed her on the cheek and handed her a bouquet of flowers. He was certainly hunky. Tall and dark haired with a tight, sexy bum and broad shoulders. Not exactly a bodybuilder's overdone shape but, well, hunky.
"Pleased to meet you," he said. He sounded quite normal. Adela was stunned.
"Come in," she said, a little faintly, suddenly aware that she was just standing there on the landing, looking.
"Thanks, but no thanks," said t
he woman, "I'll just leave you two to get acquainted. Don't forget," she added in a low voice to Adela as Roger " passed inside, carrying a holdall and a small case, "He needs a few hours to bond with you. After that he'll get attached to you and there's no risk of him straying. Have fun," she added as she turned to leave.
"Welcome home, Roger," said Adela, leading the way into the lounge.
"Very nice," he said. "Fancy a quick screw now?"
Adela was a little taken aback, though the sight of him had put exactly that idea into her mind already.
She covered her surprise and said, "I've got to pop out for a few minutes for one or two things for later. Can you wait 'till I get back?"
"Sure," said Roger amiably and sat down facing the viewscreen.
As the front door knew Adela it would have let her in straight away. Instead it announced another caller. Roger looked at the viewscreen and saw a woman friend of Adela's.
"Hello," she said, "Is Adela there? It's Maggie .
"She had to pop out for a few minutes for one or two things for later," Roger replied, repeating Adela's words and sounding normal, "Can you wait 'till she gets back?"
"Oh," said the woman, "Can I come up and wait for her?"
"Sure," said Roger. "You can let her in" He added for the door's benefit and went to meet her.
"Wow," said Maggie when she saw him, "Where's Adela been keeping you?"
`"Here," replied Roger, puzzled by the question. "Come in."
Maggie took off her jacket. Roger looked at her appraisingly as he took it, so hard and long she looked a little excited and faintly embarrassed.
"Very nice," he said. "Fancy a quick screw now?"