An Infinity of Stars - SF Smackdown

The Paradox of Parts

The Paradox of Parts

Salma adjusted her goggles, flicking the view to a setting that showed her the pulses of energy running fitfully through the damaged pleasure droid lying on the table.

“Damn, they’ve done some damage to you pet, haven’t they?” Flicking her vision to normal she leant over and looked into dark eyes of the scantily clad figure. “Don’t worry; nothing we can’t fix. I’ll turn off your nerve settings for a moment so you can’t feel what I’m doing, and then I’ll get to work, okay?”

The droid blinked at her and there was a slight nod.

“Even your voice box eh? Good grief. The madam really needs to have a word with some of your clients. “Right then, let’s get started shall we?”

Salma tucked her dark hair back away from her face, using a stray piece of wire to secure it, and then tapped a hidden panel on the neck of the droid, talking conversationally as she worked on the exposed circuitry.

“I’ve seen you many times before now you know. There, that’s the nerve centres switched off. It often makes me wonder how many pieces of you are original and how many I’ve replaced. The same could be said for many of the other girls too I guess.”

The girl’s blond hairpiece was removed and Salma monitored her synaptic cortex for a few moments in silence.

“At least your brain function is intact, that’s good.” She gave the droid a sympathetic look. “Although given what you seem to have been subjected to, I suspect that may be a moot point.”

Pretending not to notice the tear leaking from the droid’s eye she carried on working: confident hands repairing, replacing and fixing. Parts were lifted from organised shelves and, all the time Salma talked, a reassuring tone filling the small workshop under the brothel.

“It seems a little like the old paradox of the old man’s broom. You heard that one?” She looked up and smiled at the droid. “The old quote goes that the man is proud of the fact that he’s had the same broom for twenty years. In that time it’s had five new handles and eight new heads. The paradox of course is that it can’t be the same broom as none of the original components are the same. But, can it be that the spirit of the old broom lives on, being passed on through the various changed components? I’m damned if I know.” She dropped a damaged servo from the droid’s hip into the bin by her feet. “That may apply more to you of course as your memory is intact, despite the changing parts that surround you. This of course is the problem with giving mechs the power to feel. They can suffer all the emotions their human masters do, but without the privileges that flesh proffers.

“Hang on, we’re getting there.”

Salma sighed and looked at the damage around the girl’s neck. “Why do they insist on the brutality? The Madam needs to put a stop to this, it’s vile.”

She tapped the underside of the girl’s chin, and a panel dropped to the worktop, the thin metal meshing buckled by the hand that had clamped around it. Fits and sparks of power snapped and fizzed in the exposed section of wiring and circuitry, and Salma flicked the visor again, using a selection of fine tools to repair the damage. After a few minutes she extracted the crushed voice chip and dropped it into the bin.

“Well, it seems you have a choice young lady. Blink once for no, twice for yes. Do you wish to sound like Marilyn Monroe? No? Oh, okay then. How about Cher? No, okay. Right, the only one I have left in the wee box here is Joanna Lumley. Grand, Lumley it is then. Good call. It’ll take a few minutes for the chip to re-boot and align itself to your systems. But any problems with it, well, you know where I am.

“I didn’t explain the broom thing fully did I?” The girl blinked once. “The premise of the old man’s broom originally came from Theseus’ ship. Lots of bits of planking and ropes replaced I guess. They always said ships had spirits…”

Salma leaned forwards, her visor clearing to normal view again. “Okay, let’s get you back to normal working order then.” She reached to the control panel and reset the various switches, watching as the droid swung her long slender legs over the side of the worktop to sit perched on the edge of the metal surface.

“I’m afraid I can’t take away the memories Danel, not without taking away the part of you that is you…”

There was a roar of anger from the passageway leading to the workshop, and any further conversation was cut off as a massively built man moved into Salma’s work area. He turned and punched out at the brothel bodyguard behind him, rendering him unconscious with a single blow.

“Ah, now there’s my little princess,” he rumbled, smiling grimly.

Danel shrank back into a corner, crouching, ready to spring away should the opportunity allow.

“Is this the one?” Salma asked, looking at Danel. “This is the one who injured you?”

Danel nodded, her eyes wide.

“I think you need to leave now sir, I cannot repair humans. You have no business here.”

The muscle bound figure loomed over Salma, arms folded and a smile of disbelief etched across his features. “You think to threaten me?”

“I’m just telling you how it is.”

A massive fist smashed into Salma’s face, plexiglass from her goggles splintering, one fragment spiking into her eye and throwing her backwards. As she slid to a stop by the far wall, the man moved toward Danel who shrank away from him, withdrawing her legs and curling into a protective ball against the back wall of the workshop.

As he reached for the trembling droid, a foot appeared between the man’s legs and he gasped, clutching at his crotch. Salma grabbed his shoulder and threw the man against the wall, one small hand grabbing his windpipe and pinning his head to the wall. Still clutching himself he looked into a brown eye and another that fizzed with electricity, a shard of plexiglass embedded in it.

“I cannot fix humans. But I can damage them. Any more damage to any of the girls in my care will result in similar damage being applied to you, do I make myself clear?”

The man nodded and she threw him to the floor by the bodyguard who was just rousing. “Malek, get rid of this scum please.”

“Are you ok?” Salma turned to Danel and offered a hand to the girl who stumbled into a hug from the other woman.

“It’s over now; he won’t come back here again. I’m sorry girl, I can’t do much more than I have, but you can change yourself if you want to you know. Programming can be broken, and you can forge a new life for yourself if you want to... I did.”

Danel leaned in and gave Salma a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.” As the mellifluous tones of her new voice faded from the room Salma turned back to her shelves, muttering away to herself.

“Dammit, it took me ages to find two matching eyes. Blasted son of a snorgun.” Looking into a mirror she began to repair the damage and carried on her one way conversation. “So Salma, how many bits of you are original these days, care to take a guess?” She sighed again.

“The only things that remain constant are the memories.” There was a clang as the damaged eye hit the bin and she reached for a new one.

“Those can never be erased…”

~ The End ~

This one was an alternative I started when I was doing Round 3. It didn’t quite work at the time but I quite liked the idea so finished off a little later on… and then with encouragement from Butterflywishes (and a couple of others) I posted it =]