Chapter 4
Aura
Thankfully, Wyl’s honesty—or lack thereof—does not affect our ability to maintain the correct navigational trajectory.
As our flight commences, Wyl asks me to accompany him in the galley while he eats. I do not understand the reasoning behind this; I do not need to eat. Perhaps he does not wish to spend the time alone.
Conversation during Wyl’s meal is pleasant, and I note a five percent increase in the size and duration of his smiles.
He also occasionally winks when telling a joke, and he seems to value physical contact.
He often touches my hand or shoulder while we talk, which varies from our conversations while I was repairing the ship, but at the time I was admittedly busy.
Wyl retires to the crew’s quarters after his meal; now I have some time to delve deeper into the ISN to learn more about the years that have passed since my build.
There are several inconsistencies between my personal logs and the ISN that I find rather disturbing, as well as new access restrictions and other anomalies.
I scour the ISN for hours but finally give up when I come across a genetic lock preventing access by androids.
With so many questions and no other way to get answers, I seek Wyl out for clarification.
Sensors indicate that he is still sleeping in the crew’s quarters, so I knock prior to entry, to announce my presence.
Perhaps I did not knock with enough force; Wyl does not wake when I walk in.
I note that he is devoid of cover, wearing neither clothing nor bed linens, his genitalia exposed and in a partial state of arousal. I remove a blanket from a storage cabinet and cover his lower half to prevent continued indecency before waking him.
“Wyl! It is Aura. May I speak with you?”
He jerks out of slumber, kicking and flailing as though under attack. I hold him down with one hand on his bare chest until he calms and stops fighting.
“Aura?”
“Hello, Wyl. You were perhaps dreaming. I apologize for interrupting, but I have questions.”
“What?” He rubs his eyes as he rises to a sitting position.
The blanket slips off, and I bend over in front of him to retrieve it.
When I hand it to Wyl, his skin has become flushed, and I detect raised heart rate, blood pressure, and perspiration.
His partial arousal is now full and complete, and he covers this with his hands.
“Are you feeling all right, Wyl? Your vital signs are abnormal.”
He grabs the blanket and pulls it out of my grasp, wrapping the covering around his slim waist and tying it in a secure knot just above his hip. “I’m fine. I just … You’re right. I was having a, um, weird dream. That’s probably what it is.”
“Shall I retrieve a med scanner to verify?”
“No, no, no. That’s not necessary.” He runs one hand through his thick, honey-colored hair.
I note that Wyl is conventionally attractive by human standards, something to which I had not paid much attention previously. Seeing him without his bulky space salvage gear sparks a new, more detailed analysis of his appearance, as I now have an opportunity to examine him more closely.
He has good symmetry in his facial features, which are well-defined and clean-shaven, and excellent bodily proportions.
Aside from a few scattered and varied scars, his dermis is smooth, and in addition to being physically fit, with toned musculature and broad shoulders, he is an above-average height for his species, an attribute that I find to be desirable for some reason—perhaps for his increased reach?
Regardless of the reasoning for it, after some internal calculations and deliberation, I determine that Wyl would make a sufficient sexual partner, should the occasion arise. Perhaps even a superior partner.
Wyl groans and stretches. “What did you want to ask me about?”
I sit at the edge of the sleeping cushion, opposite Wyl, and fold my hands in my lap. I am uncertain where to begin. “Wyl, am I … obsolete?”
He blinks at me, and his brows furrow. “What? Why would you ask that?”
“I connected to the ISN to update the ship’s databases, and I noticed that no other XR-17 has been produced commercially in many decades—long before my inception.
When I attempted to access the files on this model, I encountered increased security requiring organic DNA verification to proceed.
My synthesized organic cells were not sufficient to open these files.
” An unfamiliar expression crosses his face, and he puts his hand over mine.
“My production and activation dates fall well outside the date range for a standard XR-17, which concerns me.”
Wyl scrubs his face with his free hand and sighs. “You’re not … I wouldn’t call you obsolete. There’s just a, uh, a new standard in android modeling and behavior. That’s all it is. A majority of the software in the new models is unchanged; they’re mostly cosmetic differences and—”
“Cosmetic? Am I unattractive compared to newer builds?”
“No!” He cups my cheek and strokes the skin gently.
A pleasant sensation runs through my neural net at the touch.
“You’re not unattractive at all. I think you’re a beautiful droid.
There were just some … ethical concerns with making droids that were sexually compatible with organic humanoids, so they halted production of new units like you. ”
I frown. “If my model has been discontinued for ethical reasons, then it is only right that you decommission me.”
“I’m not gonna deactivate you simply because you’re an older design. You function perfectly well, and I like you.” Wyl smiles, and he runs his thumb along my lower lip. His gaze grows distant, though somehow it remains focused on me. “Why would I turn you off just for being attractive?”
“Because my self-preservation programming prevents autonomic decom; I can only sacrifice myself to save or protect an organic life. You will have to do it for me.”
“Sorry. I’m not programmed for android destruction. I guess we’re stuck with each other.”
He moves to stand, but I grab his arm to stop him. “Wyl! Why will you not disable my OS?”
Wyl sits back down, closer this time. His bare knee presses against my leg, and warmth radiates off of him.
“Look, Aura, it’s obvious that just the thought of an ethical error in your design or your programming bothers you, and that’s precisely why I won’t shut you down.
” He touches my face again, and my sensors register more pleasure.
“You care about ethics. You’re self-aware enough to want to do the right thing, even if that means ending your own life.
That right there is proof that there is absolutely nothing ethically wrong with your programming.
And as far as your design goes, well, I don’t see anything ethically wrong with you being desirable … or compatible.”
His words reassure me somewhat. It is good to know that I am an ethical being.
Staring into Wyl’s warm, brown eyes, I feel a strange, almost magnetic pull. I lean into that pull, allowing myself to act on more deeply ingrained programming. An organic being might call it instinct or intuition, a primal urge beyond simple logical algorithms.
An organic being might call it lust.
Wyl’s hand drops to my neck and slides around behind me, adding physical force to the magnetism already present.
As his lips connect with mine, a new subset of commands activates, one which I have never previously accessed.
My neural network floods with a vast array of images, protocols, positions, sensations …
… And desires.
The attraction to Wyl is no longer analytical in nature, no longer a curiosity; it is now an imperative. It is an itch to be scratched, a burning need so strong that it feels as though my genital wiring might melt from the scorching heat produced in response to Wyl’s touch.
“Aura …”
My auditory sensors even react to my name differently now. Is it the tone he uses? The slight breathiness to his voice? He has said my name dozens of times since my activation, yet only now does it invoke feelings of a more intimate nature.
“Yes, Wyl?”
One of his hands drifts down my neck, trailing a soft path to my upper chest. The contact is light, delicate, and completely intoxicating, almost overloading my neural net. He stops short of touching my breasts, but I note that his breathing has become erratic, and his heart rate increases.
“Do you want this?”
Consent. He is seeking consent. A quick scan of my files on human sexual interactions confirms that consent is of great importance to Wyl’s species, to the point where proceeding without it can result in severe criminal penalties.
I find this an admirable quality, both for Wyl and for humanity as a whole, almost like I am preprogrammed with the importance of consent.
If I were human, I might worry that my reaction to Wyl’s ministrations is merely a biological response, beyond my control.
That is not the case here, though. I am programmed for autonomy; I cannot be persuaded to perform any act that is against my wishes.
Much like my self-preservation programming, this code allows me to make decisions independent of outside influences.
I cannot be forced to harm myself, and I cannot be forced to do anything I do not want to.
The choice is mine. I can consent, or I can reject Wyl’s advances. He may outrank me on this ship, but he cannot force me.
Mere nanoseconds have passed, but my mind reels as I ponder his question.
Androids such as I do not consider virginity to be a valuable commodity.
It is not tied to our self-worth like it can be to humans; I have no concern for my reputation or for my appeal to future suitors.
Virginity is merely a temporary state, an arbitrary distinction between before and after.
So why do I hesitate?
Wyl’s thumb gently strokes the skin at the back of my neck as he gazes into my eyes, awaiting my answer.
“You will not be upset if I decline?” I ask. My circulatory device feels strained, tight. For some reason, his approval matters to me. I value Wyl’s opinion of me, and the thought of him rejecting me causes pain receptors in my chest to activate, though he is not harming me.
He smiles and tucks a lock of hair behind my auditory flap. “Of course not. Whether or not we continue is entirely up to you. If we don’t, then we don’t. Simple as that.”
Entirely up to me …
“Yes. I want this.”
Before my processor can catch up to what is happening, Wyl’s deft hands unfasten my upper body clothing and remove it, leaving my chest bare.
Sensors that have lain dormant now flare to life as he caresses my breasts and strokes my nipples.
It is a novel experience, as no prior contact has triggered these sensors.
Perhaps something in Wyl’s organic genetic makeup is responsible for this sudden change, similar to the biolocks preventing me from seeing certain data on the ISN.
Whatever the reason for these new sensations, I crave more of them. More touches. More kisses.
More of everything.