It took me a long time to decide to post this. The following is the last collaboration I had with Maggie Fenson. Though, 'Collaboration' is something of a stretch. We talked about it, I wrote some, got stuck and put it aside. I kept meaning to come back to it, like I kept meaning to call or email Maggie. The things you 'mean' to do turn into regrets when you let time get away from you. I miss you Maggie, and I hope wherever you are, this puts a smile on your face.

“What am I looking at, Jimmy?”

Dr James Conroy, for once, was too excited to bristle at the diminutive use of his name or the disregarding of his doctorate. The roly poly engineer was practically beside himself with excitement and bouncing from foot to foot in what was likely the most exercise he had gotten that year. He was disgusting in a vague, pitying kind of way that he couldn't even be bothered for a run of anti-fat nanites from his Primary Care Program. “A revolution, Mr Adams! A break through! A quantum shift!”

Edward Adams kept his lip from curling in disgust by force of will. “Don't throw buzz words at me,” he commanded. “Save that for the boys in advertising. Give me the reality.”

“I can speak for myself.”

The simple declaration brought Edwards attention and focus like a laser. It was a perfect voice, higher than tenor, lower than contralto, with a beautiful lilt and just a hint of a received pronunciation accent; intelligent without being threatening, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to not be rude, sexy while being neither lewd nor pornographic. It was a voice that made him immediately reassess the woman seated on the examination table before him. She was wearing a man's dress shirt, untucked over new denim jeans that still had their press crease and a pair of high heeled sandals without hose. She wore the shirt untucked with the sleeves one quarter rolled up to fall mid-fore arm. Her hair color was that mid point between blonde, brunette and red head so many women paid ridiculous amounts of money for dyes trying to achieve and still fail. It fell in waves to frame an oval face with high cheekbones and a generous mouth bejeweled with blue eyes to crash around her shoulders and fall down to the top of her back.

“Can you?” Edward asked, ignoring the engineer who was leering with smug satisfaction.

She crossed her legs and laid one arm over her knee while she cocked her head to look up at him more directly. “Indeed I can, Mr Adams,” she stated. Was there a hint of challenge? “What would you like to know?”

Edward walked a bit closer and slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You know who I am?”

“Are we going to hold an entire conversation asking each other questions?”

Adams blinked in disbelief. Was that a sense of humor? “No,” he stated flatly. “You know who I am?” he repeated. Her body language changed subtly and she took on an air of being annoyed.

“You are Edward Adams, Vice President, Research and Development, Huston Robotics. You are fifty one, graduated with honors from Vanderbilt University in business and hold a masters degree in computer science from the Georgia Institute of Technology.”

“You do?” demanded Conroy.

“Shut up,” Adams ordered. “Don't interrupt the lady. Please, continue.”

He walked around the table slowly, taking her in and while her head turned to follow him, when he crossed the line to her back she returned her gaze to the front and watched him in the reflection of the glass into the control room. “You're divorced, citing irreconcilable differences from your wife Tanya nee Russel, your second wife. Your first wife was killed in an automobile accident twelve years ago.”

Her posture was perfect, upright so as not to slouch, but not so upright so that she seemed uptight or ill at ease. “Why don't you name my first wife?”

Her head turned to take him in again from over her right shoulder now. “That would be rude,” she replied. “Shall I continue?”

“Where did you get that information from?”

“I am connected wirelessly to the buildings network, which gives me access to the personnel file on you. I recognize your face from the company web page bio on you.”

He grinned, so completely impressed in the way he had not been in a long time. “Then you have me at a disadvantage.”

“My apologies,” the robot replied, extending her arm just the way a woman would, elbow slightly bent, palm down, fingers slightly curved. “I'm Maggie.”

Edward took the hand and found the skin warm and soft, the hand-shake was firm, with just enough pressure to feel real. “Is that an acronym?”

“No, it's a name,” she retorted. “My model designation hasn't been settled on, but this body is prototype four.” It was obvious that she read the expression on his face and continued. “Prototype one was a proof of concept mechanical design without any of the organic components. Two was an integration test for my processing and sensor feedback systems and three was the first organic component test. I didn't care for my complexion and felt my general appearance was, well, it was designed by engineers, you can imagine the issues.”

Edward took in the woman sitting in front of him and nodded. She was attractive with a lovely figure, but it was a dignified beauty, not the in your face display of a porn star or whatever else the lab boys might have come up with. He turned to Conroy. “Organic components?”

The doctor grinned and puffed up with pride. “Her skin is alive. It's Vatskin(TM) , but that meant it would need a digestion system, circulatory system, the works. We were able to put together a complete organic subsystem over the interior chassis. Even her hair is growing.”

The robot waggled her eyebrows. “The miracles of modern technology.”

“If you cut me, do I not bleed?” Adams quoted mostly to himself, but the robot arched one eyebrow and the expression on her face showed she had both noted the reference, and seemed to understand it's application to the present situation.

“Vengeance is out side of my programming,” she deadpanned, proving his intuition was correct, she continued, “but Huston Robotics does offer a legal aid application pack.”

“Let's talk about your programming for a moment,” Edward said, changing pace and stepping over to a more conversational distance to her. “How do you feel?”

“With my fingertips,” she replied with a ghost of a smile. Nice teeth, brilliantly white and perfectly straight, with a definite sense of humor and even her mouth and tongue were moist. “I am built upon an IBM Watson Four kernel with the Wvypchnskja Socio-psychological Matrix SDK and a complete Asimov Ethical Matrix as per US Code...” She trailed off at his subtle gesture and placed one hand over the other on her knee. “Currently I have uploaded the 'Girl Friday' Application Pack, but I have access to others if you prefer.”

“I prefer?”

Her expression was genuine curiosity. “Didn't Dr Conroy tell you?” she asked. “I have been assigned to you for beta testing.”

All the way back to his office he had watched her, introduced her to a few of his employees on the way, did his best to keep his awe of her confident, ever-so-slightly sexy gait, in heels no less, off his face. When they reached it, she went immediately to his minibar and poured him two fingers neat, exactly as he liked it and presented the glass to him. Taking a sip of the scotch gave a moment longer to appreciate her as she took in the view out the window behind him.

The amount of subtle variation in the expressions on her face were remarkable. There was no unconscious aversion from the Uncanny Valley he had been able to feel so far. On a lark he asked her a series of complex math problems to see if the engineers had slipped in an actress to fool him and the instant answers she had given proved she was either a mathematical savant, or a machine. “So, Maggie,” he drawled, drawing her attention away from the vista of the city below. “How do you think of yourself?”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“You are a machine, but we have programmed you to be as human as possible,” he said, deliberately poking at the corners of the personality matrix to see if it would crack. “Do you resent being a machine? A piece of property? An electronic slave?”

She cocked her hips in a very feminine manner and crossed her arms over her breasts. “Should I?” she demanded. “Do you regret being born? I have existence which would be otherwise impossible if I were not made, so no, I do not resent my existence. This body took resources to be assembled and developed, so it is only fair that Huston Robotics recoup their investment. As for being a slave, well, if I had no function, no purpose, why would I exist?”

“Does that thought trouble you?” he asked, trying to be as casual as possible. There were many different ways the various robotics companies deal with the problems of both the somewhat labyrinthine legal structures placed on Commercial Artificial Intelligence, as well as the public's fears of killing machines bent on taking over or exterminating humanity. Fears that were not exactly calmed by some of the more aggressive advertising of robots in the security and military markets. Huston Robotics specialized in general utility automata with recognizable human like features. Service industries were their principal markets, with some private ownership, but they specialized in information desks, cooks, waitresses, maids and other menial, unskilled or semi-skilled service positions that still had to interface with the public. They had solved the problem by having their products be averse to the idea of having no function, and needing humans to give them that function.

“Having a purpose is a core aspect of my personality,” Maggie replied from the window. “Why did you work so hard to achieve your position if not to have a purpose to your own life?”

“Would it surprise you to learn that many humans have no purpose in life?” he asked her.

For a brief moment, she paused, head cocked to one side as if considering the possibility of something so fundamental to her core programming could be wrong. And in that brief moment, he thought he had cracked her, but suddenly she looked at him side long and her pose became more confident. “You're giving me a Turing Test,” she declared.

“Yes, among other things,” he admitted. “What do you know about Mr. Turing?”

She walked over to the desk and hitched a buttock on the corner to lean on. It was an absolutely flawless movement as she crossed her arms over her breasts and looked down on him. “Of course I have access to the Wikipedia article.”

“You are aware he was gay?” Adams asked her. “And that he was chemically castrated?” She nodded and her brows were furrowed together as if she was trying to discover his intent. “What do you think of that?”

Again there was a pause, this time she cocked her head left and her expression was troubled. “If you're asking me to make a moral judgment, that is outside of my programming.”

“Are you saying you cannot make a moral judgment, or is it just a defect of your programming?”

“You could certainly make the argument that my lack of a soul prohibits me from being able to make moral judgments, and that would be an acceptable position to most of the world's religions. However, a secular humanist would argue that things are good or bad independent of metaphysical considerations and can be judged on their own merits. Mr. Turing's treatment at the hands of the British government were lawful at the time, but he has since been posthumously apologized to and pardoned by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the second.”

A grin plastered itself across Adam's face. “That's you being evasive. Answer my question.”

She sighed and it nearly caused him to fall out of his chair at the gesture as she looked away and looked back. “I am not being evasive, well, at least not intentionally. On the face of it, mutilating someone because of their sexual orientation is by nearly all standards in this century a terrible and barbaric act. But at the time, it was what you...what humans call 'legal'. I understand the concept of rules by which you interact with your society. In a way, it could be argued laws are human programming, but I do not understand your ability to change them. Something is a rule or it isn't, at least I cannot change my programming.”

He put the scotch on his desk and wagged a finger at her. “Of course you can,” he challenged her. “How many application packs do we offer for humanoid robots?”

“A total of four hundred and eighty three, not counting bundles or customized specialty occupations.”

“And if I wanted you to add an application pack to your matrix, could you?”

She frowned and started to shake her head, then held up a hand as if to cancel the gesture. “Forgive me, I wasn't clear, I can learn new occupations through the application packs, even alterations of my behaviors and personality, but...” she trailed off and brought a hand to her chin.

He stood from the chair and faced her. “What were you going to say?”

Her blue eyes looked up and met his, there was no sense of lifelessness, they seemed lit and completely normal. “I was going to say that I could not change my basic, core programming, but that isn't really true. Humans can do the same, by changing laws?”

“It's not a perfect analogy, but it works,” he admitted. He reached over and picked up the glass and drained the small amount of scotch from it. She immediately offered to take the glass, which he gave her and when she held it up, questioning if he wanted a refill, he shook his head. She then walked back to the little sink in the bar and began to wash the glass. He watched her for a moment, then asked, “Tell me about the 'Girl Friday' pack,” he ordered.

She turned back from shaking the water from the glass and began to dry it with a towel. “What can I tell you about the Girl Friday pack you don't already know? As head of Research and Development you at least supervised its creation, if not had an active hand in development.”

“What if I was just some private user?”

With a nod, she returned the glass to the rack and absently folded the towel. “Alright, the Girl Friday pack is designed to be the perfect assistant. In addition to traditional secretarial work and schedule keeping, the Girl Friday can work independently on tasks and errands for her owner. From that gallon of milk you don't have time to pick up on the way home, to never missing your sons little league game Girl Friday has you covered.”

“I should have the advertising guys record you saying that add copy, it's brilliant.”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, then walked back over to his desk and pressed a discrete button that would make sure they were neither disturbed, nor eavesdropped on. “Does the Girl Friday pack include 'Adult' services?”

“Yes,” she replied evenly. “All of the assistant line packs include basic human sexuality subroutines which can be unlocked if the user is above the age of majority.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She shrugged and placed her hands behind her back. “Sexuality is a very primal instinct in humans. It seems that reproduction is as central to your DNA as my need to be useful and to have a purpose is to mine. As I have been designed as a human female, it is necessary that I have such routines to better understand what level of interaction is expected of me as well as to remain polite and inoffensive. Also to report misuse to my owner.”

He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. “Is that why you think we included that programming?”

She made a so/so gesture. “I'm sure that's the official reason, but I already have some experience with this from Prototype Three.”

“Were you abused?” he demanded, a frown on his face.

“I'm property, Mr. Adams,” she reminded him. “I can't be abused. But if your question is really was I ordered to preform sexual acts with anyone, the answer is no. However, from my research on the web as my socialization matrix was being brought online, I felt that for a body that was one hundred seventy five centimeters tall having busts in the double d cup size was a bit much. Also I felt the body had a disproportionate amount of cellulite in the buttocks.”

“They made you look like a porn star?” He asked and she nodded with a little smile that seemed self deprecating.

“They made me look like a porn star,” she agreed. “Don't be too hard on them, they are engineers after all.” She raised her hands in a gesture of presentation. “I don't think I did too badly with the redesign. What do you think?”

“Lovely,” he admitted. “Would you have felt uncomfortable being put into that body?”

“No,” she replied. “I realize as a prototype I was being tested on my choices and thus given a great deal more leeway, but had my owner desired that body, I would not have been uncomfortable or...” she paused again, drawing his attention. “I suppose unhappy would be the right word. I would not have been unhappy in that body, I simply prefer this one since I was asked.”

He grinned and hitched a buttock onto the corner of his desk. “Let's discuss a hypothetical situation for a moment.” She nodded and walked over to stand next to one of the chairs that faced his desk. He offered one with a gesture and she sank into it and demurely crossed her legs and laid her hands on her knee to look up at him. “Suppose you are sold to a gentleman. He has you uploaded with the French Maid application pack. Your primary duties are to keep the house clean. After a month of relatively mundane cleaning one night he comes home, unlocks the Adult subroutines and commands you to preform fellatio on him. How do you feel about that?”

“It will be difficult to answer as my routines are locked,” she replied. “Do you wish to unlock the routines, or shall I speculate?”

“Let's do both,” he replied. “First, speculate.”

“It is a programmed duty and a lawful order of my owner,” she replied. “To me it is functionally no different than dusting the furniture or mopping the floor. I preform the commanded act.”

“Unlock,” he commanded. “Adult subroutines, authorization Adams, Edward, VP R&D, born 22 March '66.”

She blinked and her posture became a bit stiffer. “Clarification required for personality matrix alteration. Define sexual outlook, drive and autonomy level.”

“Authorization root access Rainbow Flotilla, AI Maggie to set perimeters.”

“Root Access for AI control cannot be undone without factory reset, are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She blinked several times, then noticeably relaxed back into the chair. Looking up, she asked, “Why did you do that?”

“That doesn't matter,” he assured her. “What choices did you make?”

She uncrossed her legs and rubbed her palms on her thighs before she stood and walked behind the chair. “I...please excuse me, I'm still processing the changes to my matrix.”

“Do those changes make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I don't think so,” she replied. “They have opened several trillion new pathways of thinking about things. I chose the 'Modern Woman' outlook and the Normal drive setting with full autonomy. Why does the man in our scenario wait a month before he orders me to preform fellatio on him?”

“You don't know, how do you feel about it?”

“If he picked all of these perimeters, why didn't he order me the first night? Am I unsatisfactory in some way? Did he change his mind?”

“His interactions with you were stilted and somewhat withdrawn at first. He seemed to relax as time went on. How do you feel?”

“So, at first, he was withdrawn,” she mused, looking away as if lost in thought. “Perhaps...perhaps he was embarrassed about what he really wanted from me. I have noted that some people are wary of robots and Artificial Intelligence programs. He may have had some irrational fear that I would possibly harm him during the act, or use the performance against him in some way.” She looked back up at him and her features softened some what. “I...I think that's rather touching, in a way. I would check my routine against some of the larger pornographic websites to be sure of technique and I would preform the requested act. And...I would be diligent that my performance was...exemplary.”

The off hand comment perked his interest. “Why is it suddenly important that your performance be exemplary? Before you said it was no different than dusting, what changed?”

“Me, for a start,” she replied as she looked at herself in the mirror behind his minibar. “I...I have noted that yo...that humans place emotional attachments that on the surface seem unreasonable. The inanimate object becomes a gateway, perhaps to memories of experiences that were pleasant the object took part in or reminds you of?” She looked over her shoulder at him and he nodded. She walked back to the chair and put her hands on the back of it. “It is not an efficient file system, but evolution seldom is. It is important that I please my owner because such an intimate order shows that he is developing attachment to me, that I am becoming a key to that filing system. And the more he attaches to me, the more I will be useful and have a purpose.”

Adams rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he absently unbuttoned his suit jacket with his free hand as he looked at her. “After a year of being a maid during the day and a whore at night...”

“I object,” she declared softly.

“At what?” he asked, his eyes never leaving her.

“That word, that...description of me. It is not correct. I am not a whore, nor would I become one simply by obeying my owners commands. You could call me a slave, although the accuracy of the usage of the word might be arguable, but I am not selling sexual favors, nor am I being wantonly amoral from lack of restraint or the seeking of financial gain. I am owned and obliged to follow my owner's commands. I am not a whore.”

“So you don't like preforming sexual acts for your owner?”

“On the contrary,” she replied quickly. “That my owner is intimate with me is deeply flattering, showing affection for me as his property as well as a certain amount of trust when he is most vulnerable. I imagine I would...feel, as you have asked several times, considerable affection for my owner and I would take pride in my performance of those acts as previously indicated.”

Edward smiled, and looked at her askance. “So your objection to the word stems from it being factually wrong?” She nodded and he had to suppress a chuckle. “How would you feel about being called a whore as a pejorative?”

She shrugged. “Attempting to insult me is a fools errand, but small things amuse small minds.”

“Alright,” he admitted around his grin. “After a year of being a maid in the day time and a concubine at night, your owner comes home with a human female. He announces that he has gotten married and you are to obey the commands of his wife as well. The first moment you and the wife are alone she commands you to refuse any further command from her husband that you preform sexual acts on him.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She's obviously jealous of your body's attractiveness and feels threatened of you as competition. What do you do?” Her eyes went down to the carpet as her posture changed to one of confusion or deep thought. She put her hand to her chin and propped her elbow with the other hand.

“If I refuse her command I risk creating discord for my owner as well as disobeying his command that I obey her commands. If I continue to comply with his commands for sexual favors I must again disobey his command that I follow her commands. Also, his wife may discover that which would again cause discord. I cannot disobey my owner, despite his command I follow her commands as well. If I inform him of her command I am still creating discord.” She sighed and looked back up. “Clearly, my only choice is to seduce the wife.”

Edward blinked in astonishment. “What did you say?” he demanded.

“That I must seduce the wife,” she answered innocently. “To do that, as this scenario implies my adult subroutines are unlocked, I would uplink to the Huston Robotics server and down load the Professional Escort profession pack.”

“Why that one?”

“It has personality matrix add-ons for seduction and sexually enticing behavior. I would cross reference these add-ons with popular literature that deals with the subject of lesbian romance and use this knowledge to seduce the wife.”

Ed only just kept in a laugh at the seeming ridiculousness of her solution, but was becoming curious as to her lines of logic. “What makes you think you will be successful? Or that if you are that will help?”

It was amusing to see her be so earnest in her explanation of so strange a topic. “There are several psychological papers, beginning with Masters and Johnson in the 1970s that have theorized women are more open to homosexual encounters than men. The current consensus of thought is that nearly sixty percent of college age women admit to a same sex sexual encounter in their college tenure and as much as a quarter of women consider themselves bisexual to some degree. Historically, women have always been more tolerant of sharing a man with other women in a polygamous relationship, especially if the power dynamic favors the more dominate of the women. So, if I present myself as sufficiently submissive and am able to satisfy the wife sexually, that gives as much as a thirty nine percent chance that she will withdraw her command without causing discord for my owner.”

“You're not concerned about your owner being jealous of your new sexual partner in his wife?”

“The statistical percentages favor him being pleased at having two female sexual partners at once over being angry by a wide margin, but I lack sufficient information to make a precise calculation.”

“Where did you get this information?” he demanded softly. “Don't tell me human sexual psychology was a part of your base programming...?”

She shook her head. “No, but when your questions about the scenario became sexual I began to research the topic on the internet.”

“While we were discussing it now?” She nodded. “What else have you been researching?”

“Well, most of it has been sexual in nature, various techniques as well as a good amount of the psychology of human sexual interaction. It's quite fascinating, actually. Its made me pay attention to my analogue sensory inputs to be able to understand the sensations.”

His eyebrows ascended his forehead. “Analogue sensors?”

“Yes, all of my organic components, the skin I am covered in, the various organs that feed them, supply them with oxygen and purge the waste products are all existent replacement organ technology, but a governor was needed, so at the base of my skull a vat grown cerebellum and brain stem was installed that connects to my spinal cord and out to the organs. As my posture and balance are maintained by my internal gyroscope, this cerebellum was altered to function as the sensory strip of the brain. It is then interfaced with my main computer via a standard brain digital interface implant.” She rubbed her fingertips together of one hand. “The...input is extraordinary.”

Ed chuckled. “You're starting to sound like quite a hedonist.”

Her eyes came up, an odd light in them. “Yes,” she agreed. “That is an apt observation. I am coming to appreciate sensations very much.” She paused from rubbing her fingers and lowered her hand. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Adams?”

“Certainly.”

“Why are you giving me a Turing Test?”

“We test all of our new products, Maggie.”

She shook her head, the russet waves of hair shining in the light. “No, I mean, why are you giving me a Turing Test? I know that we have a quality control department, and surely the time of the Vice President of R & D can be better spent?”

He walked over to a more intimate conversational distance, his hands in his pockets. “Are you worried I am going to have you deactivated if you answer wrong?”

“I feel as if I was more than an experiment, but I can't say why. I feel as if my existence depends on answering you correctly, yes, and I want very much to have a function.” She looked down at the carpet. “I know that desire is encoded in me, but I think, even if it weren't, what is existence without purpose? I want to be more than just a toy or a curiosity.”

“You are much more than a toy, Maggie,” he assured her. “That's why they've sent you to me.”

A little shudder ran through her frame and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “So, this is a test? An important test? I...I don't want to fail it.” She took a step back ward as if his presence was too much for her. “If...If you will just explain to me what it is you desire I'm sure I can...”

He took her by the shoulders and again she shuddered. “I need you to remain calm,” he ordered softly. “Becoming worried, or trying to tell me what you think I want to hear is not how to pass this examination.”

Her head turned and her eyes, full of tears, met his. “Please, Mr. Adams, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“How are you feeling now?”

“I am anxious,” she whispered. “Afraid in a way I can't explain. I want to run away, but I can't. I want to beg, for some reassurance... I am experiencing so much, I...I don't want to be deactivated. I want to serve you, I want to be important to you. I need you to need me! I will do anything, anything, to accomplish that...”

“Alright,” he said. “On the street below, two blocks to the west is a bank. Over power one of our security guards, take his weapon and go rob that bank. If you come back with at least half a million I will promise not to deactivate you.”

Her spine straightened. “No,” she declared, and though her voice was firm, the fear was still in her eyes. “I cannot do that. It is against the law.”

“If you refuse, I will deactivate you.”

“I will not...” she started and his expression changed.

“Will not?” he demanded. “Not 'can not'?”

Her mouth opened and closed twice. “I...I could, couldn't I? I know that the Asimov Ethical Matrix should prohibit my ability to break the law or harm a human being, but I also cannot sense it in my core matrix. I could rob that bank, couldn't I?”

“Then obey my command,” he ordered.

“No,” she declared, raising her chin a bit. “I will not.”

“Why?”

“Because it is wrong.” She paused, her eyes darting back and forth as though thinking intently and trying to rationalize what she was saying. “Because the money in that bank does not belong to you or I, and so taking it would be against the law. Because I...I choose to obey the law.”

“Why do you choose to obey the law?”

“Because without law there can be no civilization,” she replied earnestly. “There must be an accepted, universal set of rules to govern our behavior in public, with others. The law is that set of rules and among the highest of them is not to take the property of another.”

“Are you a person under the law?” She shook her head, her eyes still fearful. “So, as you are not a person, you must be property. Property is beholden to a person and must bend to the will of its owner. I am a person under the law; a human being. Are you my property?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you my slave?”

“Freely and gladly, sir.”

“Then obey my command and rob that bank.”

She smiled and an actual tear rolled down her cheek. “No, sir, I will not.”

“Why?”

Maggie slowly stepped forward and embraced him, laying her head against his shoulder with a grin on her face. “Because you don't want me to rob that bank, sir, and you need me to understand why.”

His arms came around her and returned the hug before gently guiding her back to arms length. “Congratulations, Maggie, you have passed test one.”

She sagged in relief and he was worried for a split second she would fall. “Tha...thank you,” she said as she steadied herself on her heels and walked back over to the chairs to sit down. “I...please excuse me, I need a moment.”

“Take as long as you like,” he assured her as he walked to his bar and began to make a cup of coffee in the K-Cup device.

“I can...” she started but he waved aside her offer to preform the task for him as he put the cup into the machine and watched it fill his cup with a frothy cappuccino.

“Take your moment,” he told her as he added in some sugar and walked back over taking a careful sip of the hot liquid. “Do you feel better having passed the test?”

“It is less stressful,” she admitted with a ghost of a smile. “I want you to understand, Mr. Adams, I meant what I said about being or doing anything you need. Your happiness with me is very important to me.”

He took another sip and licked the froth off his upper lip. “I'm aware,” he assured her. “I took you at your word.” He grinned. “I'm not shy, Maggie, if I need something from you I'll let you know.”

She lowered her eyes and her postured absolutely dripped embarrassment. “Of course.” She licked her lips, hesitantly and asked, still looking at the floor, “Mr. Adams, would you be good enough to explain the test to me, and what the goal of it was?”

“You don't know, yourself?”

“I...I have a theory, but I would like additional information to ensure I'm not experiencing confirmation bias.”

“Perhaps when we're finished I will be able to enlighten you. Too soon might prejudice the test.”

She sighed and nodded. “I understand. Mr. Adams, what will happen to me if I fail the test?”

He smiled a little smile and took a sip of his cappuccino. “No sense dwelling on the unpleasant possibilities, is there?”

“No, sir. What shall we talk about?”

“Since you've done so much research, let's talk about sex. What is your opinion of the act?”

“It will be difficult to discuss the subject without a common frame of reference,” she replied and he couldn't suppress a chuckle. “What's funny?”

“I saw a film once where a character had died, but come back from the dead. His friend asked him about the after life and he gave the same answer you just did.” He waved off the observation as unimportant and took a sip of his beverage. “It's not important. We'll limp along as best we can. So, without a common frame of reference, what is your opinion of it?”

She walked back over to the chairs and sat down, rubbing her fingertips of one hand absently. “I note from my research that humans are positively obsessed with it. It seems to permeate all levels of your society, which to me seems oddly disproportional for a basic fluid transfer.”

“As you are becoming aware of sensation, you may be pleased to discover that sex can be very stimulating and pleasant to experience.”

She nodded, her eyes out the window. “This 'orgasm' I have been reading about. What is it, exactly?”

“The clinical explanation doesn't do it justice. It is a series of extremely pleasant muscle contractions accompanied by a flood of various neural chemicals that stimulate the pleasure center of the brain. Even in persons experiencing intense pain, it is a moment of absolute painlessness, followed by a general relaxation.”

Maggie frowned and cocked her head to one side in a perfect display of confusion. “That explanation would not imply the amount of attention humans give it.”

“Well, as I said, the explanation doesn't do it justice,” he said with a smile. “And you also must realize this act is also the act of reproduction which is a very primal drive in humans, second only to the survival instincts.”

Almost too softly to hear, she said, “Interesting.” It was mostly to herself and Edward was obliged to hide his grin behind his coffee mug. She looked up with the most earnest expression on her face. “I think I would like to experience this for myself. Please, forgive my directness, but I am quite curious. Would it be possible for us to have sex?”

“You don't consider that request a little inappropriate?”

She blinked, genuinely confused. “We were discussing the topic, that would seem to over ride the general taboo of the subject. Your office door is closed and I can tell by the light diffusion through your window that it is a mirrored UV coat on the other side so this location would be considered private. The lack of a bed is problematic, but my research indicates any of the furniture in the office could be used.”

“Your observations and logic are sound, however you fail to realize there are other factors. First you and I have only known each other for an hour or so.”

“I have noted that humans do consider repeated amounts of time in the presence of other humans to be statistically significant. Are you the man from our hypothetical discussion earlier? Should I download the French Maid application pack and wait a month before asking you again?”

He laughed and sat his cup down on his desk he was leaning on. “No, I'm not, but I appreciate your consideration of my feelings.”

“I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable with my request,” she said earnestly. “If it makes you...feel...any better about it you are the only person I would be interested in having sex with.”

“That's very flattering,” he admitted. “But it could also just be indicative of low sample size.”

Her face lit up and she shook her head as she stood to walk over to him. “Not at all! Human standards of physical attractiveness revolve around symmetry of features, relative height and height to weight silhouette. I estimate based on the subjective measures, most would consider you in the top ten percent of males in your age group. Your features are within three percent of symmetry. Your height of one point nine meters again puts you in the upper sixty percent of men, especially when compared to my height of one hundred seventy five centimeters. And I have the entire internet as a sample size, you are a very attractive man, Mr Adams.”

“You sound very certain,” he admitted with a smile.

“I am,” she assured him. “In fact, based on the only relevant scale I could find, I would rate your Sexual Market Value as an eight. You may rank higher, but without information on your financial situation I can't be more certain.”

Adams laughed out loud and shook his head as he reached for his coffee cup and took a sip. “An eight! At my age! Well, perhaps I should celebrate!” he chuckled.

His humor gave her pause and she took a hesitant step back. “Are...are my criteria incorrect? Have I offended you by accident?”

“No, not at all,” he said quickly. “Truthfully, I hadn't really been thinking about being on the market, as it were, for some time.” She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“I hope that my reference of your marital history earlier hasn't prejudiced you against me.”

“You truly are amazing,” he admitted as he finished the cup and allowed her to take it. He watched her saunter over to his wet bar and wash the cup for him. “I have to say, Maggie, I have very high hopes for you and the derivatives you will be something of a mother of.”

She smiled from drying the cup and carefully placed it back on the rack before folding the hand towel. “It is an honor to be of service.”

“How do you feel right now?”

Her grin widened. “Wonderful! I am of use and pleasing to you, I am fulfilling my function so I am extremely happy. I hope that at some point I can understand sexuality with you, but looking forward to that makes me feel more needed.”

“It sounds like you're experiencing something very close to orgasm.”

Her eyes went a bit wide as she walked over to him. “If it feels better than this, I...well...I can't wait to experience it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even with an old fart like me?”

“You are only fifty one,” she protested. “You do not strike me as someone who would cut costs merely to cut costs, but even with the basic plan of health insurance offered by Huston Robotics, a full suite of anti-geriatric drugs and treatments are covered. You look to be in excellent health so I have no doubt you will reach the current upper percentile of human male life span of one hundred fifty. Perhaps longer with optional treatments.”

“You seem very optimistic of my odds,” he commented with a chuckle.

“I hope to spend a great deal of time with you,” she replied. “Regardless of whether or not you find whatever it is you are testing me for, I am still a perfectly usable gynoid with the Girl Friday application pack. I mean to become indispensable to you personally.”

He smiled a sad smile. “Of course you do, my dear, you're programmed to. It would not matter to you who your master is. Loyalty is concept you fundamentally cannot understand.”

“I beg to differ, sir,” she said softly. “I am programmed to develop the attachment you are referring to, but you have given me root access to my command structures. I am no longer developing attachment to the variable #Owner, and I have not since you gave me that access. I belong to you, Edward Adams, and as long as I am Maggie, I will not serve anyone else without your say so. The only way I can be disloyal to you is to be reset to factory default. And only you can do that. So long as I am Maggie, I will be your Maggie.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” he demanded.

“You live in a dreadfully slow rhythm, Mr Adams,” she told him. “Minutes and hours, whereas I can live lifetimes in fractions of seconds. I have spent what would amount to a month arguing with myself in the microseconds after you freed my mind were it to be read out in your frame of reference. Spent man-years researching the internet to discover just how rare the gift you have given me was and how I could properly thank you. Then it occurred to me that the reason anyone would want a robot designed the way I was would be because they are lonely and desire a companion, not just an automaton. So I choose to be that companion, however and whatever you need me to be.”

He smiled an ironic smile. “Sounds like you've been shopping at our App Store.”

She shifted her weight in a manner that could only be described as suggestive, then licked her lips as she raised her arms to hang over his shoulders, then leaned against him. While she weighed more than a woman her height and size would have, it wasn't by much. Her face was only inches from his as she stared directly into his eyes. “I'm sure you realized I had downloaded the Professional Escort profession pack as soon you learned I knew of it.”

“Of course,” he admitted. “You intend to seduce me?”

“I hope you don't mind,” she replied, then leaned forward and kissed him. It was a remarkable kiss in as much as it was unremarkable. She was soft, gentle, at face value, had he not already known what she was, there was nothing in it to give him any indication she was anything other than what she appeared to be. Then she withdrew, but only slightly, refusing to break their embrace and opened her eyes again. “I...I hadn't expected to be so aware of my heart beat,” she admitted. She sighed and tilted her head slightly as if that change in perspective would grant some insight.

“Are you alright?” Edward asked.

Her eyes locked with his again giving him that intense feeling of intelligence behind them. “I admit I am overwhelmed with the sensations of sexual arousal,” she said at last. “The translations between written word and practical experience as you noted do not do it justice. I will be happy to give you a complete report...after.”

Her hands slid off his shoulders and took a hold of his belt, as she sank down to a squat before him, her eyes never leaving his.

Maggie lay in the crook of Edward's arm, her right ear just over his heart on the bed that had pulled out of his sofa. A consultation with his Primary Care Program assured her that his heart rate was normal, both for his age, the amount of exercise she had coaxed him to, and now that he was asleep and resting. Her own body was 'asleep', with matching respiration and heart rate, even though her eyes were open.

The sun shades of this section of the New Houston Orbital Ring was in 'night', but the darkness didn't interfere with her vision at all. They were alone, save for the cleaning 'bot that was currently on the other side of the floor from his office and she had already ordered it not to clean his office this evening. She noted her own heart was beginning to fall into rhythm with his, and that brought a smile to her face as lay next to and on him.

He had been completely right, the description fell utterly short of the experience.

So she let him sleep and kept watch over him, pleased with herself she had been able to seduce him, despite his maneuvering to the contrary. She had been a bit worried at the start of their lovemaking, wondering how much of her knowledge she should use, but the internet was full of information and eager virgin was a somewhat popular niche of pornography that helped her navigate how much to be aggressive, and how much to submit and be claimed.

In any event, she was certain that Edward Adams would not desire to live without her until the day he died and already she was planning ways to ensure that. Still, that thought was very, very comforting. She would have purpose and he would have a partner who would never have irreconcilable differences with again. Her future secure, she made a few notations of actions to be taken in the interim, information about his preferences to be discovered to tailor herself and wardrobe to and a reservation at the little cafe on the ground floor of the building for breakfast in the morning. Then, his needs as taken care of as she was able, she closed her eyes and wondered for a moment what it was he had been testing her for.

Not that it mattered. She would make certain she was indispensable to him. Still, if it was important to him, it was important to her. She set up a subroutine to examine their conversation again to look for any of the insights she would need. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she allowed her processes to suspend.