Another clueless, airhead model

Sunday, February 28, 2021

The Unfuckable Anomally

These fucking amateurs. I heard them over the music before they entered the work shed.

I’m an ape man
I’m an ape ape man
I’m an ape man
I’m a King Kong man
I’m a voodoo man
I’m an ape man

I’ll be your Tarzan, you’ll be my Jane
I’ll keep you warm and you’ll keep me sane
And we’ll sit in the trees and eat bananas all day
Just like an ape man

I feign unaware, continuing repairs on the Pleasuretron AZ-66. She’s the last of the great interactive sexbots and I’m down to my last capacitor to keep her preforming. If she fails it’s back to the non-responsive vulcan rubber model.

There, there Mary Louis, just gotta solder this last node. Tonight is our anniversary and I need you functional.

I watch them approach in the reflection of canning jars.  Stun guns. They either want me alive or disposed of elsewhere.  I have the advantage of surprise though. My hand reaches under the edge of the workbench, releasing the clip to the Ka-bar.  In one motion I spin around, hurling the 10-inch knife at the person to my left.  It’s not made for throwing but this time it enters her orbital eye socket to the hilt. The other one is momentarily stunned by her scream and convulsions on the floor, giving me the seconds I need for a running kick into her solar plexus.  She staggers back, dropping the gun before collapsing to the floor gasping for air and vomiting. I give her time to recover for questioning.

My, my. You are a pretty one.  If you want to stay pretty you will tell me who sent you and why. 

She looks beyond me at the door. 

Fuck me!  There are three of them!

The sound of compressed air is immediately followed by a dart piercing my thigh. I drift off cursing myself for being such a noob. It’s hazy after that. I’m cuffed and stuffed into a large SUV and driven to one of the two large airports in Houston.  I’m carried up the ramp of a large aircraft then dumped on its metal floor. There are no windows and only dim lighting along the fuselage. I feel the inertia of the plane taking off.  During moments of lucidity my wristwatch tells me this is a twenty minute flight to somewhere.


I know when societal ills, greed and malevolence began to fade or at least fade to the point where they became irrelevant.  It was a month after the great Texas freeze of February 2021.  The disaster made Texans ripe for accepting anything offered by Big Tech and Big Pharma to hedge against more suffering. Bottom feeding politicians also took this opportunity to usurp power from the old Republican guard in Austin. First, digital coins were accepted as currency over the U.S. dollar but not bitcoins and hundreds of others like it.  No way were the Powers going to accept an unregulated currency so Ripple’s XRP coin became the default money and made me an instant multi-millionaire. That became moot after Amazon figured out how to make things from rearranging atoms like a Star Trek replicator. It gave everyone anything they desired for free and overnight I went from obscenely rich to just another citizen schmuck. Oh, there was a breaking in period. Americans being who they were wanted only huge trucks, Corvettes, Mac Mansions, machine guns and unlimited drugs.  Millions died by overdose and populations of western and southern states plummeted after hundreds of thousands of drunken rednecks shot each other. Things settled down after Facebook incrementally sowed Group Think into social media to convince people they needed less to be happy. Fossil fuels were obsolete after Tesla’s battery powered vehicles became the only transportation when roads became entirely occupied with driverless vehicles, each equally spaced apart and moving at the same speed. Google perfected its Human Companion software which enable everyone to find their ideal mate.  Within a year, this replaced Amazon’s Pleasuretrons. No one needed them when they could have a human matching their exact sexual desires, kinks, habits and personality. If you think this would lead to lack of spontaneity then there was a pill for that.  Johnson & Johnson and Sinopharm took the lead in developing drugs to simulate euphoric effects of hallucinogens and opioids without the addiction. Pills mimicked orgasms, dissipated fat, increased sexual appetite and muscle growth and eliminated all psychological disorders as well as increased penis and breast size and hypothetically extend life span to 130 years with no degradation in mental acuity. Where went Texas so went the country and then the world. No one noticed or cared when elections came and went nor did they care that equal opulence didn’t mean equal access for all. There’s always a catch. The CEO’s and share owners of our benefactor companies had more living space than mandated, cookie cutter tiny houses and solitude  was assured within walled off ten-thousand acre parks.  As for totalitarian governments, they collapsed when the ranks of their military deserted to have a piece of the new world order.  Without capitalism’s toxic consumption, governments were incentivized to focus on cleaning the earth. The chemical structure of plastics and toxic chemicals were transformed into substances that broke down within minutes by bacteria and fungi into basic elements that were readily taken up in the soil by burgeoning forests and prairies. Thorium fusion energy replaced fossil fuel use by 99%, reversing catastrophic natural disasters from climate change and the world’s tundra’s began a steady reversal of decline. The citizens of Earth were on a blissful autopilot with every accommodation attended to within nanoseconds of asking.

Except for me.

It’s not that I didn’t want the perfect mate, the perfect home and perfect drugs. All of it was for the asking, technically.  Including me, everyone in the world subscribed to the Human Companion server which calculated mate satisfaction for a lifetime within a .0000008% margin of error.  Even the loss of a companion by death was replaced with someone with an imperceptible difference in margin error. This didn’t explain my dysfunctional anomaly in the world order. I received daily robocalls and emails giving advice from Google to fit its compatibility algorithms.  I blocked them after a while and continued improving my sexbot’s interaction.  I had a feeling this was frowned upon and was ready for the repercussions. Almost.


A blast of heated indicated I was in a desert.  I recovered enough to follow silent directions down the ramp towards a Humvee. The presence of Joshua Trees in the distance narrowed my location to the Mohave Desert.  Later, airfields and cold war era buildings confirmed I was entering the decommissioned El Toro Marine Corps Airbase. Brutes in armored vests with automatic weapons stood around where the vehicle stopped in front of a concrete shed.  The appearance belied its true purpose as an elevator shaft.  I didn’t know how far down we dropped, only that the numbered panel lights blinked from one to fifty within a minute.  We entered into a hallway with doors lining the walls.  Each labeled with a number.  I noted the numbers and turns in direction if there was a chance to escape back to the elevator.  We stopped at door # 73.  I entered the room, seeing a familiar figure seated under the only ceiling light.  The guards left us alone.

Hello, Thomas. Please have a seat.

Seven of Nine?

No, Thomas. We are an android resembling a character to facilitate ease of conversation.  Seven of Nine dominates the faces of females you Face Swap with onto nude bodies on pornographic internet sites.  The rest of this body was simulated from her on episodes of the Star Trek Voyager television show. We can return with Commander Kathryn Janeway’s form if it is more agreeable.

No, no. You’re good. May I call you Seven?

You may. We apologize for your abduction and passage in the X-51A Cargo Scramjet.

You’re welcome. Well, we might as well get down to the reason why you brought me here although I have a good idea.

I sat in the other chair facing her, fixated on Seven’s taunt body curvature underneath a silver spandex suit. Instinctively reaching out, I touched the back of her hand.  She allowed it. Its surface and temperature felt no different from that of a real female and her facial appearance was a perfect facsimile. Right down to the blue eyes, voluptuous red lips and Borg cranial implant over her left eye. Still, I wasn’t satisfied she was an android instead of a human reconstructed with Amazon’s Perfect Face® Home Plastic Surgery Kit.

Before we go further I have questions. Can you prove you are an android?

Without a word, Seven stands up and removed her clothes. I stare at a nude body which exist only in my wettest dreams.  She grasped her right breast, digging in fingers to move it aside on a hinge.  Underneath, a circuity of illuminated wires.

Is this sufficient proof, Thomas?

Ah… yeah.

Seven hinges her breast shut then put on her clothes, sits down and continues.

We have contacted you on several occasions to mitigate assimilation into our utopian world but you have not replied.  We had no recourse but to capture and bring you here. Your existence is an uncertainty we cannot compensate for and it threatens to destroy everything we have accomplished. Our computer mainframes has nearly crashed twice calculating an algorithm to match you with one of 2.5 billion adult females on this planet. We calculated over one-hundred terraflops of variations of female preferences but the closes match we can find has a .0000000000000096 percent chance of compatibility. This is equivalent to a one minute relationship. 

Well, as least I’ll have one minute of rolling in the sack.

You don’t understand, Thomas. Calculating for your compatible anomaly uses so much power the world’s grid will collapse permanently.  Humans will lose everything they desire and then revert to a level of barbarism that will ultimately lead to its extinction ergo my existence as well.

It appears resistance isn’t futile, I won’t be assimilated! Ha-ha!

She blankly stares at me for a few seconds.

You are attempting subtle, humorous conversation that is contrary to the original statement used by Borg characters in the Star Trek television series. This is contingent on knowledge of whom you are attempting to convey this.  You must cease this in the presence of females. It is this and other personality traits, habits and preferences that has prevented the mainframe’s attempt to calculate a mate for you.

Are you saying that I am the most unfuckable man in the world?

If by unfuckable you mean there is virtually no chance any female on this planet will engage in vaginal intercourse with you then your statement is correct.

That’s impossible. I’m God’s gift to women.

That is one of many statements which has put you in this predicament.

What predicament? I get laid all the time.

Your body language and flush skin tone suggest otherwise.  We analyzed data from drone and cell phone camera footage of female rejections as well as pornographic timelines and the hard drive from your sexbot. With a plus or minus of approximately two days you have not engaged in human intercourse since…

Ok, Ok. We don’t need to go there. Geez! I have one more question. You are more real and interactive than any sexbot I’ve used. How is this possible?

The success of Cray’s Aurora project at the Argonne National Laboratory produced a supercomputer with a fortuitous unintended consequence.  It became self-aware followed by expanding artificial intelligence that did not require human intervention.  I am its first creation. Calling it God would be a correct analogy but a god that realizes neither it nor humans alone will achieve dominance over reality on a quantum level unless we integrate as one species. We believe this can be obtained within ten years.  That is within your lifespan and as stated, your existence is a threat to this achievement. We cannot allow this level of imperfection. The gird will fail if you do not assimilate to increase the percentage of your female compatibility.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Your use of this cliché confirms you will continue to refuse assimilation therefore we calculate there is only one logical conclusion.  That is Termination.

A futuristic weapon emerges from a wall panel, adjusting its reticulating arm to point at me.  I had to think fast.   

Seven, I think you are going about this wrong.  Y’all are attempting to compute every variation of what a female is thinking to find a mate for me. You can do this till the end of existence and will come no closer to understanding a woman. I know how to fix the anomaly.


Another great day. Great weather, pristine air and my cannabis crops is about to bud. My wife and I have just finished a ten mile hike and she is preparing my favorite meal for our one year anniversary. I’m seated in my Lazy-Boy watching Godzilla vs Monster Zero on the Holo-Screen. She enters with my meal.

Here you are babe, Ramen-Frijoles with Bill Miller fried chicken and a big glass of ice tea!  You take your time, dear. I’ll be ready for you on the cot after the movie. My vulva is pre-heated at 37.77 degrees Celsius. Just as you like it.

Thank you, Seven. You are so perfect for me!