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No more Riane.
When I opened my eyes, the bot still stood in its place. Its eyes were downcast, hands slack at its sides. I wondered if there was a button I needed to press to activate it. Or perhaps a lever of some sort.
I hummed quietly as I inspected the bot.
“To activate voice recognition software, please speak clearly.”
I jerked away, unprepared for the voice that was little more than a whisper.
I vaguely recalled the instructional video I’d pored over a few weeks ago. Perhaps it had stated that I needed to speak to it in order to activate the voice recognition software.
“Hello?” I said hesitantly, and thought I saw it twitch a little.
“Voice recognition activated. Please repeat your words to confirm voice activation.”
“Hello,” I said again, reaching out to touch the curly locks that ran down its back. Again, the model I’d seen online had wavy hair, not curly. But I knew myself—I wouldn’t be complaining about a cosmetic difference if the bot worked well and gave me no trouble.
Its hair was soft to the touch, its skin even softer. I ran my fingers down its exposed back, following the line of its “spine.” It only made me more curious about how these tech companies managed to create skin that was so lifelike. Up close, I could see slight veins running down the length of its arm... Except that bots didn’t have veins, did they? Had the tech company added this as a lifelike feature?
As I moved closer, examining its veins with a furrow of my brow, I felt raised skin under my touch...raised skin that hadn’t been there before. Goose bumps? On a bot? Surely not.
“I am Servana, your personal service bot. How can I be of service today?”
My eyes moved back to its rounded face, roving over the painted lips and slightly full cheeks. Its eyes, a brown so dark it resembled the richest elusive cocoa, stared straight ahead.
And then it blinked. But bots didn’t need to blink. Did they?
Had technology really advanced this much since I’d left Royal One after college? There had been service bots at the institution I’d attended, but they’d been highly robotic and their voices were mechanical, nothing like the bot I saw before me. This model was almost...beautiful. Delicate. I could see the outline of its collarbones clearly above the tube-shirt it wore, stretched tightly over its breasts.
And then I noticed something truly bizarre. A pearl of sweat descended from the back of its neck, down its shoulders and dissolved into the top of the tube-shirt. When my eyes moved back to its face, the bot hastened to look away from me, as though it had been caught.
It was too real. Much too real. My eyes narrowed.
“Lights, high.”
The bot flinched as light flooded the room, and up close, I could see its pupils contracting to block out the sudden burst of brightness.
I leaned down and unsheathed the utility knife from my boot, letting the worn handle settle into my palm. For a split second, I thought I saw the bot flinch, but it was so fleeting that I could’ve imagined it.
“Hold out your arm.”
It hesitated, so I repeated the command.
An unwilling arm was presented to me, palm upward.
“I can’t convince myself that you’re not real,” I said, watching its eyes to track any flicker of movement. “The only way to tell would be to make an incision in your skin to see if you bleed red, like me.”
I paused, waiting for a telling twitch or a shocked shudder.
“If, for some reason, you’re a real person, tell me now so that I don’t hurt you.”
