Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. A story, about someone who works too much and seeks alternatives to find love, begins after the photo.
Genre: Science Fiction
Thinking of Everything
She was there, waiting at the top of the stairs when he arrived home from work. The sex-bot he’d ordered from Perfect Companions was ready for him. Auburn hair flowed in torrents past big, sloe eyes and full lips. Her ivory skin glowed in the light from the bedroom.
Perfect Companions had promised, “Perfect from Im-Perfection,” and they delivered. Faint scars glittered on her right knee. One breast, peeking out from her sheer gown, had a mole. Her left eye was larger than the right.
Monique was perfect.
Harry mounted the stairs and took her warm hand. Her lips trembled when he kissed her. She seemed uncertain at first, but her confidence grew as the long night went on, just like a real woman would.
They thought of everything.
Harry didn’t bother introducing her to anyone. How to explain he’d ordered a sex-bot, but desired more than just sex? No one would believe him. Instead, they spent long nights watching Harry’s favorite movies. Of course, she loved them too. They watched the news and discussed the issues. She disagreed with him just enough to keep the conversation going, but not so much to create conflict.
They thought of everything.
Then came the day they were hiking. A thistle cut a deep line above her ankle. Nothing bad, but it bled convincingly. Three days later, it had scabbed, but wasn’t healing as fast as expected. Days later on, he caught her applying makeup to hide the wound. He went straight downstairs and called Perfect Companions. In moments, the owner Mr. Trent, was on speakerphone, as though he was awaiting the call. “I’m sorry for the delay, Mr. Kingston,” said Trent. “We seem to be short one of our engineers. Her absence is causing delays, but that’s no excuse. Your order will be ready within the week.”
“Excuse me. Did you say, ‘her?'”
Monique wilted visibly and sat heavily on the couch, head in hands.
“Yes, sir. She’s one of our best.”
Slowly, Harry hung up the phone. “You’re real?” he said quietly.
Tears began to flow. Monique just nodded.
“Any chance you’re the missing engineer? The one with full access to my information?”
She tried explaining while wracked with sobs. “It’s just…I saw your video, how you moved, how you talked…what you wanted. I work a lot, you know? I don’t get to meet guys much, but there you were saying what you wanted…and you’re what I want.”
“But how long did you think…”
“I know, I know.” She stood and wiped her face. “I’ll just collect my things.”
Harry took her hand and said, “Maybe I thought to get what I wanted, I needed to get a robot. Maybe I was wrong, and the perfect woman for me is standing right here.”
Monique’s jaw fell open. “You mean it?”
His answer was a kiss.
They made love there and then on the couch; a passionate love with no more uncertainty, no more doubt.
While Monique slept, Harry called Perfect Companions once more. Without preamble, Harry said, “This is HC-17438G, checking in. Customer appears satisfied.”
“Excellent,” said Trent. “Monique has been working too hard with no companionship. She needs this.”
“My analysis programs indicate a positive effect.”
“Of course. We thought of everything.”
Each week, Alastair Forbes, photographer extraordinaire, offers an original photo up for a writing prompt. Look here for more stories based upon the photo above: http://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2014/09/07/sunday-photo-fiction-september-7th-2014/