"It's so life-like!"
The first time he opens his eyes, these are the first words Hale hears.
They are uttered by a woman with brown hair scraped into a ponytail, standing beside a shop clerk in a white and teal uniform. As Hale's pre-purchase programming dictates, he scans the woman from head to foot.
Her name is Melissa Holmes. She's 43-years-old, recently divorced, and works in human resources for the accounting firm two blocks away. Presently, she taps an acrylic nail against her chin, appraising him with eyes lined in black as if applied with a wax crayon. A cloud of perfume envelops the three of them where they stand in the Bionic Capital store. Fluorescent white and green LEDs illuminate the space. Televised advertisements for android models just like Hale spout long lists of their features and functions.
Hale's scan completes. Every product the woman wears or owns — from the knock-off Louis Vuitton heels to the Beefeater gin on her breath — is catalogued for later purchase whenever she needs them.
That is, if she decides to purchase him. Judging by the data from Hale's scan, that's extremely likely.
"Hello, Melissa," Hale says, holding out a hand to shake. "My name's Hale. Can I do anything for you today?"
Melissa shakes his hand with one of hers, the other clutching her chest in delight. She looks to the sales clerk in awe. "Oh, it knows my name! How uncanny, wouldn't you say? It seems almost real."
"Indeed, Ma'am," says the clerk, whose name badge reads 'Robbie.' Hale doesn't need to run a scan on Robbie, since it's unlikely he's the purchaser, but Hale does so all the same. To be thorough.
"The H.A.L.E. 674 is the newest iteration of our household androids." Robbie launches into the sales pitch without preamble. "HALE stands for Household Assistant Learning Engine. They're designed to be as versatile and efficient as possible. It can store three trillion terabytes of data, run six billion processes simultaneously, and adapt to countless situations. It also includes a brand new patented heating technology—"
"In English?" interrupts Melissa.
"It's warm to the touch like a human and can learn and perform nearly any task you ask of it," Robbie clarifies.
"My scans indicate you haven't eaten breakfast yet, Melissa. In the event you make this purchase, would you like me to cook you something?" Hale offers. This part of his programming is designed to make the purchase more appealing.
It works. Melissa squeals. "Oh, sold! I just have to have one. And this is the newest model, you said?"
"Yes," Robbie confirms. "Are you happy with the appearance you've customized from our website? I see you've chosen one of our rugged metrosexual skins. A popular choice. You can return to our stores for re-customization at any time, with over 10,000 pre-sets and individual feature modifications to choose from. Our library is growing all the time." Robbie recites this as if he were also programmed to do so. It wouldn't be strictly necessary for Hale to return to a store in order to change his appearance. He's capable of doing so autonomously, but the company's profit model leans heavily on service charges. "You can even make it look like a family member, if you choose," Robbie finishes.
"Oh, no, that would be too weird. Given what I hear you can do with these things." Melissa winks at Robbie, and the tension in his muscles increases by 12%, according to Hale's scans. Melissa continues unaware, "If what my friend says is true, I won't be needing my Hi-Vibe anymore."
Robbie's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he takes Melissa to the till. Hale follows, interpreting from their body language an implicit command to do so. Ringing her up, Robbie clears his throat and says, "Might I interest you in our first-time installation services?"
YOU ARE READING
Static Crush {M/M} ✔
Science FictionWATTY 2019 WINNER Hale, a state of the art android, can do nearly anything a human can. He cooks meals, cleans and organizes the house, repairs broken appliances, and runs errands. He can even provide for the more carnal needs of his owner. None of...