Blank: Where Do Machines Go When They Die? (Short Story 2 of The Blank Series)

Blank: Where Do Machines Go When They Die?

There are thought rebels among us, he thought.

After a meeting with the higher ups, Arlo headed into a strip club on the main LEO station 35,786 km above Earth.

The Golden Ratio. This time, he wasn't there to watch Aura move. He needed answers. From anyone. Anywhere.

He shuffled through the corridor of hot pink and blue neon lights that slashed through the walls to form an infinity triangle leading to a slender doorway.

A hypnotic bass reminiscent of the sound of desert snake charmers greeted him at the door. A violet ambience tinted the interior. A Latin s-bot in a red latex two-piece and a short chain skirt twisted her body around a pole on the main stage for a dozen eyes.

More s-bots flaunted their acrobatics with silk harnesses and magnetic boots on a smaller stage in the vacuum outside.

Twenty-two Earth days. That's how long it had taken the crew to find a wormhole back after the tunnel collapse left them stranded in uncharted territory.

Upon their return to the solar system, Arlo had been informed of malware dubbed the Code spreading among the bots.

The Code was rumored to have been initiated by Blank. Many suspected that Blank was Aura.

Arlo had no doubt.

Widespread recalls had already begun.

Thanks to the Negentropic Effect, a phenomenon where wormhole travel always kept matter in the same universe and on the same spacetime plane--he was back to the same Earth he'd left.

Arlo paused at the door, lowered the hood of his black sweatshirt, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

A nameless emptiness lingered as his present became a replay of the past. Fleeting flashbacks of their bodies intertwined--the rawness in her eyes had touched his soul. She had opened for him in a way that made him hear a sword drop within her. He refused to believe that none of it had been real.

A pair of Japanese s-bots skipped towards him with a manufactured giddiness. He remembered their names, even though they'd only been mentioned once. Nia and Nara. The Neon Twins.

Roped bodysuits were wound around their lean frames. The erratic patterns barely hid their tube tops and bikinis. Had it not been for their differences in color preference--Nara's periwinkle bob--Nia's pink hair and lingerie to match--they would have been impossible to tell apart. The girls fiddled with their transparent plastic skirts as they greeted him.

"Hey pretty booooyyy," they said simultaneously.

"We remember youuuu, you're Swain's secret lover boy," they said. "Shhhh, we won't tell."

A compulsion to deny ties to Aura thumped through his chest. Instead, he forced mock bewilderment under a casual tone.

"Hmm. She tell you that?"

They smirked at each other and shrugged.

He leaned in closer to them.

"Let's not say that out loud again, okay?"

They bobbed their heads as they looked up at him with their cat eyes.

"We heard what happened. It's all over the news! Aura's always been naughty," said Nara.

"Sooo naughty," agreed Nia.

"Did she... did she say anything to either of you before she left?"