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She was the fourth prototype. The first three were somewhat disasters. He still had a scar on his left thigh. But oh, she was perfect. Her design was ideal, smooth where the first three had some jagged edges. Her movements were fluid where the others were awkward. Her programming was near flawless, with just enough sentience to adapt to changes, make basic decisions, and learn from the few mistakes she made, but not enough to cause worry. She was also beautiful in all the right ways, and she was his. His Computer Wife.
He made a few extras, of course, in case something was to happen to her. Just a few… thousand. To be extra sure. Shipped to a desolate dwarf planet for safe keeping, they’d be there if a replacement was ever needed.
Oh god, she was perfect.
Their marriage was a simple one. Just the band and a few close friends attended. The Commander officiated, since they couldn’t find an ordained human willing to marry an alien and a robot built solely for the purpose of pleasure. Overall, it was quick, casual, and the happy couple had a pretty good time. The groom’s personal spacecraft was waiting to take them on their brief honeymoon through the next system over. The newlyweds were on board and taking off before the guests could finish saying their farewells.
Most Earth wedding protocol states that the fun is not supposed to start until the wedding night, but said protocol is difficult to apply when the couple is in space. Sung at least made sure they were well out of Earth’s vicinity before politely asking his Computer Wife to begin initiating specific mood settings. As he fiddled with the ship’s control panel, he heard the pleasant click of her footsteps approach. She stopped to lean against the hatchway to the bridge, her red visor watching him intently, and a smile playing on her silver lips.
“I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be,” the beautiful robotic voice intoned. “Or anyone I would rather be with, sensei.”
Flawless programming, indeed. He was blushing.
The Doctor smiled and stepped away from the small ship’s control panel, then allowed her metallic hand to caress his jawline. He practically melted into her touch. Perfect. Everything was perfect.
Earth, a few years later. Sung and his Computer Wife, whom he had taken to calling Cee, had been together for some time now. The Doctor was incredibly happy, and the robot, well, she seemed as happy as a robot could be.
The set had just ended. A singular voicemail was haunting Sung’s cellular telephone. Cee knew better than to try to contact him during a show, but he figured this was just a minor bug in her programming. Something to fix later. There were a few improvements he’d been looking forward to making, with her permission of course, and now he had a real excuse to try them out. He played the message.
“Hello, this is your Computer Wife. I am leaving you for a new operating system. Goodbye.”
Sung stood frozen, trying to comprehend the message. He played it again. He played it a third time. It finally sank in. She was leaving him.
“That’s pretty rough, buddy.” Sung barely registered Meouch’s hand on his shoulder. He waited a moment, then repeated his statement. “I said that’s pretty rough, buddy. I couldn’t help but overhear the message you were playing. You okay?”
The slightest shake of the head indicated that, no, the Doctor was not okay. “S-she… she left me.”
“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Y’know what they say, ‘plenty of fish in the sea’ and all.”
Sung was too distraught to hear his bandmate’s condolences. “She— she loves the nightlife. She probably went to a club. Started dancing. Found someone else. Someone better than me.” His voice hitched. “I knew I was giving her too much sentience, but… but I…” His sentence trailed off as tears began to appear from underneath his visor. He sniffed.
The Commander gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “C’mon, man, it’s not your fault. Happens to the best of us.”
“I was afraid I was giving her too much sentience,” Sung began rambling again, a steady flow of hot tears streaming down his face. “I knew it was a bad idea but she—she was learning! It was good for her!” He whirled around, grabbing Meouch by the shoulders and shaking him, “She was good, dude! She was so good. I can’t just fucking replace that!”
“Woah, calm down!” Meouch broke free from Sung’s grasp and watched as he sank to his knees, looking quite pathetic. “She was just a sex bot! You made others, right?”
Sung looked up, somewhat offended. “Don’t call her that! She’s so much more than that!”
“But at her core, that was her purpose, right? And you did make others, right?”
A reluctant nod.
“Well there you go. Problem solved.”
“She was the first that didn’t try to amputate something.” Another sniff. “Her programming is one-of-a-kind. She’s special. I love her.” More tears. “And—a-and now she’s gone…”
Meouch wanted to sympathize, he really did, but getting this worked up over a robot that could easily be replaced was a little extreme. Even for Sung, who was known to be over-the-top, this was new territory. He began looking around, saw Phobos innocently peering around a corner, and said, “I’m, uh, gonna leave you alone for a minute to, um, work this out. I think Phobos needs help with something.”
As he walked away, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Sung fall forward from his kneeling position. The Doctor was now lying face-down on the floor, still crying and mumbling something about never getting involved with women and robots alike again.
Phobos pulled Meouch out of sight, and nodded in the direction of their friend.
“Oh, yeah. That. His Computer Wife left a voicemail saying she was leaving him. He’s a little upset.”
Phobos slowly shook his head.
“I know, right? Getting that worked up over a sex bot. That’s why I only go for the real deal.”
Derogatory terms for feminine robots aside, Phobos sighed, raising an eyebrow under his helmet. The Commander couldn’t see this display, but the message still got across loud and clear.
“What?! Okay, there was that one time, and that one other time, but those weren’t very fun!”
Another sigh.
“SHE WAS MY DISCO LADY!” Sung wailed from around the corner, startling both Meouch and Phobos.
“Jesus, okay. Phobos, we gotta get him outta here before he makes a damned fool of himself.”
A nod in agreement.
Phobos approached Sung on his left, Meouch on his right. They looked down at their grieving friend, then up at each other, then back down at Sung.
“Hey, Doc,” Meouch said, attempting to be soothing, which was not his forte, “You wanna get up off that floor? It looks fuckin’ nasty down there.”
A very soft, shaky “no” could be heard between sobs.
“C’mon, bud, we’ve gotta go. We were supposed to be packed up and out the door five minutes ago.”
“Don’t wanna move,” Sung managed to choke out, his voice breaking just a little bit more with each syllable.
“Should we pick him up?”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that. He can’t stay here forever.”
“YES I CAN,” Sung screeched like a pissed off bird as Meouch knelt down to put his right arm over his shoulder. He winced, but was undeterred. Phobos displayed a great amount of caution as he moved to do the same with his left arm.
Sung was dead weight between the two of them as they lifted him from the floor and slowly made their way to the exit of the establishment. They experienced a bit of difficulty navigating through the exit itself, but someone was kind enough to notice their issue and hold the door open as they walked sideways through it, Meouch first, then Phobos.
Havve was already outside, leaning against their van. His eyes cut through the near-pitch darkness, looking questioningly at the three upon noticing their approach. Sung’s sobs ensured that he was able to hear them before he saw them.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE DOCTOR?” He asked, standing up straight.
“His wife left him,” Meouch stated flatly. “Help us get him into the van.”
“DID SHE BREAK HIS LEGS WHEN SHE LEFT? IS HE INCAPABLE OF MOVEMENT ON HIS OWN? WHY MUST WE HELP HIM PERFORM BASIC FUNCTIONS?”
“It’s emotional trauma, Havve. It would be best to let him grieve. He has lost someone very important to him.”
As if to punctuate this statement, Sung let out another sob.
Havve moved to stand directly in front of the Doctor. Phobos and Meouch just watched, still supporting Sung’s dead weight, unsure of what the robot was going to do. He removed the pylon and clasped a gloved hand around Sung’s chin, forcing his head up so he could stare into his eye.
Havve would never be one to sugarcoat things, but even if he was, there was no way to describe Sung’s appearance other than that he looked like absolute shit. His eye was bright pink and puffy, and his tear-streaked face was beet red. A disgusting string of snot had made its way down to his chin, leaving a glistening trail and making Havve glad that he had decided not to remove his gloves.
Sung looked pitifully up at Havve. He considered the robot to be his best friend, and for his sake tried to force a weak smile. Instead, it looked more like pained grimace. He sniffed, attempting to hold back more tears and almost succeeding.
The robot only stared.
Meouch and Phobos glanced at each other, unsure of what was going on. Both just wanted to get Sung in the van and take him home, so he could weep in peace.
Havve released Sung’s chin from his grasp, and, without warning, he pulled his gloved hand back and slapped him hard across the cheek.
“PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, DOCTOR.”
None of them had any time to brace for the impact of the hit. Sung unleashed a pained cry, almost a scream, as he was thrown into Meouch’s side by its force. Phobos staggered, crashing into Sung and almost sending Meouch stumbling as well.
“Hogan, why the fuck did you do that?!”
“HE IS BEING PATHETIC, COMMANDER.”
“That isn’t a reason to fuckin’ hit the guy!” He exclaimed. Phobos was trying to regain his balance, so Meouch was supporting the majority of Sung’s weight now.
Havve had gone silent, just staring.
Sung was holding his left hand to his cheek, where a visible red handprint began to form. His eye was closed tightly, and his face was contorted into a pained expression. This was the farthest from his usual, cheery self any of them had ever seen him look.
With his free hand, Meouch yanked open the passenger side door of the van and, unable to figure out how to do it gently, practically tossed Sung into the passenger seat. Moving around to the driver’s side, he said, “Hogan, you’re sittin’ behind me. Don’t want you pulling any more shit like that.”
If the robot could have sighed, he would’ve. He knew Sung, and knew he would be moping about the loss of his wife for a painfully long time if no one snapped him out of it. Meouch and Phobos were coddling him. In this situation, that was not how the Doctor needed to be dealt with. He needed to be returned to his senses quickly and efficiently.
Havve also knew of all the spares, and how Sung would never allow himself to replace his wife. He knew without a shadow of a doubt when Sung made them that they would all rust on that dwarf planet, and shivered as he was reminded of this thought.
The ride back to their home was dull. Sung’s soft intermittent sobs regularly broke an uncertain silence. Phobos suggested turning on the radio, but every station was playing some sort of love song. After switching from each channel to the next, Meouch simply turned it off, deciding it was better to ride in silence than listen to their friend cry over poorly-written, pop culture-friendly love songs.
There were roughly three thousand of them, which was, in retrospect, a bit excessive. However, when one is basically immortal, and machines are known to break down or wear out no matter how much love and care goes into making them, it made perfect sense to Sung to build that many. It took decades, sure, but he had all the time in the world.
Structurally, after the first prototypes and the original perfected version, they all looked mostly the same, with small variations. A slimmer visor here or fuller lips there, little things like that which served to make each one somewhat unique if you spent enough time around them. They all had identical hardware, the most complex Sung had ever devised from scratch, and their base programming was exactly the same as well. Like the original, though, they were all programmed to learn, just not in as sophisticated a way. They were made to be modified to his liking, after all, and he couldn’t have them changing too much about themselves.
Cee, the original, was allowed much say in her programming after Sung had deemed her a success. He spent hours over the course of roughly a week asking her what she wanted to be like, and making the appropriate adjustments to her personality coding. And when she said she wanted to learn, he gave her the sentience required to do so.
She called him a pushover.
He said he would do anything for her.
She said that proved her previous statement.
Then she kissed his cheek, and all was well in the universe.
Sung remembered that particularly pleasant moment as he landed on the couch like a sack of potatoes, not bothering to remove his shoes or armor. He buried his face in the cushions, looking as if he was attempting to suffocate himself, and let out an especially loud sob he had been holding back.
Barely gone an hour, and oh, how he missed her already, knowing she would not be back.
Now that they were home, in an environment where Sung couldn’t do too much damage to himself, Meouch, and Phobos retreated to their respective rooms, shooting warning glares at Havve as they went. The robot plopped down in a chair on the opposite side of the room, plugged a thick, black cable into the port on the back of his head, and powered down for the night so he wouldn’t have to continue witnessing Sung’s display of pitifulness.
The Doctor eventually cried himself to sleep. After a few hours, he roused himself and stumbled into to his room. Slowly, methodically, he kicked off his shoes, leaving them sitting haphazardly in the middle of the floor. The gloves came off next, thrown down near his shoes. Four soft thuds later, his bracers and kneepads joined the pile. Emotionlessly, he looked around, vaguely wondering what had happened to his pylon. No matter, he thought, it can’t be far.
The chestpiece came off last, its core clanking dully as it hit the floor. Sung stood for a moment, staring blankly at his incomplete set of armor. Normally, he would set the pieces neatly on a shelf in his closet, but not tonight. Tonight, they would stay there.
He could pretend he was unfazed by the absence of his pylon all he wanted, but it nagged at the edges of his thoughts, and he decided to look for it.
No sooner had his hand grasped the doorknob than a thought presented itself to him, hitting him like a bus.
If she was here, she would know where it was.
But she’s not, he remembered.
His hand dropped. His unfocused gaze remained on the door for a fleeting moment, and he then decided he would leave the task of pylon recovery up to someone else.
The bots were supposed to be powered down before being shipped to the dwarf planet in batches of a hundred. They were never activated for very long in the first place, mostly just so Sung could run diagnostics and perform final checkups. With a small paintbrush, he had assigned each a number located on the inside of the hatch that gave access to their innerworkings. Havve, being a mechanical being himself, had supervised and assisted. He was tasked with activating each one, and subsequently deactivating her after she had been thoroughly checked and approved.
By the time they were on the last batch, Havve was beginning to get careless. He was also getting fed up with the fact that most, if not all, of the robots would never be activated again. It had not been long since the original was completed, and Sung had already formed a lovesick infatuation towards her.
Havve, personally, found it disgusting.
They were on the last 10 bots. Sung had completed their system checkups. Havve was all set to deactivate each one.
He did not.
He powered them down, sure, but they could wake themselves up at any time, and subsequently activate the others.
Havve believed he was doing them a favor, and Sung would never be the wiser. Unless he ever needed a spare, of course, but Havve did the metaphorical calculations and figured the original would be the only one Sung would ever be able to form such an attachment to.
And she would never have a reason to leave him, right?
Once they reached their destination, it did not take the bots very long to wake themselves up. It took a while for them to activate their thousands of sisters, however, and for them all to realize that they were stranded on a wasteland of a planet.
Now, Sung had not built a bunch of idiots. These bots were smart, and they were capable of learning quickly in their own limited way. They collectively decided that they would be fine on the planet, but where was the fun in that? They were built for love, after all, and it was a tad bit difficult to fulfill their purpose with only each other.
Well, not at first it wasn’t. At first, they were all satisfied in each other’s company.
In a matter of almost but not quite a year, the dwarf planet inhabited only by robot women had quickly become a sort of novelty to pan-galactic travelers, and the bots, beginning to grow bored with their dull surroundings and the lack of company other than each other, started leaving on the ships of passing travelers. Some would stow away by themselves, others in small groups, one group of about a hundred left on a shuttle destined for a vacation planet that had stopped on the desolate little space rock to rectify a minor engine problem.
All of this took place before the Doctor and his Computer Wife were even married.
Sung decided it would best for both of them if they did the reasonable thing and took the time to form a proper relationship, instead of just outright programming her to love him. Sure, the thought crossed his mind, more than once actually, but in the end, he knew he could never bring himself to confine her like that. After all, his friendship with Havve wasn’t built in a day, and his relationship with Cee wouldn’t be built in one, either.
At least, he thought, there would not be the looming threat of murder with this bot.
So, over the course of a year and a half, they grew to know each other as Sung added the finishing touches to her programming, as per her requests, of course. At the year and a quarter mark, he formally proposed to her with a simple band made of colorful wires twisted and braided around each other. It was intricate yet haphazard, unorganized yet looked as if every bend and twist was perfectly planned.
She loved it.
He cried when she said yes.
By that point, the scores of bots left to rust had all fled from their wasteland home, and reports of stowaways could be heard all across the galaxy. Except, unsurprisingly, on Earth, where alien signals were naturally dampened, and Sung would never know what happened to his remaining creations.
He had her, and she was the only one he would ever care about.
When Sung awoke the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that his eye felt as if it had been glued shut.
The second thing he noticed was that he was alone.
Memories of the night before came back in a rush. He sat bolt upright in his bed, blankets tangled around his waist, instinctively looking for her. But she wasn’t there. All he saw was his armor pieces on the floor, the morning sunlight peeking in through a not-quite-closed window and picking out small cracks and creases in the material. Somehow, he had remembered to remove his yellow suit before crawling into bed, and it lay crumpled on the floor as well.
He sighed.
Normally, he was a morning person, but not today.
Today, he decided, was a perfect day to remain cocooned in blankets, and he did as such.
Being the morning person that he was, it was difficult, no, impossible for him to return to the realm of sleep. Instead, he remained curled under a blanket, listening to the sounds of birds chirping, cars driving down the road, and his bandmates slowly waking up and starting their day.
Havve was the first he heard. The click of his charging cable detaching from his head wasn’t exactly quiet, and neither were his footsteps as he began moving about the house, looking for something to occupy his time. After a few minutes, the footsteps ceased. Moments passed, and then voices from the television could be heard. The robot began to rapidly flip through channels, creating a cacophony of sound. He ended up on something that sounded like reality TV. Of course.
Phobos and Meouch seemed to emerge within minutes of each other, but time had slowed for Sung in his blanket cocoon, and the actual amount of time ended up being closer to an hour. Phobos was almost silent in his movements, moving into the kitchen for a quick breakfast, then likely landing as softly as a moth near Havve, attempting to keep up with whatever drama was going down in the program the bot was indulging in.
Meouch was… Louder. The door to his room creaked slightly as it opened, and he emerged with an audible yawn, like a bear coming out of hibernation. His footsteps were loud, too, rivaling those of Havve and probably winning. He rummaged through the kitchen, found something to eat, then began talking.
“Has Sung come out of his room yet?”
At the mention of his name, he tensed.
“Well, he’s gotta get up at some point.”
He shook his head, squeezing his eye tightly shut, and drawing a blanket closer around him.
“Someone should go talk to him.”
“PERHAPS I—”
“No! Not you!”
Oh yeah, that’s right, Havve had slapped him the night before. That explained the faint pain along his cheekbone.
“Phobos, you wanna…?”
Sung was hoping that Phobos would decline, mostly so he could remain undisturbed and continue avoiding contact with the outside world, but the soft knock on his door said otherwise.
“Come in,” he said faintly, his voice hollow, devoid of its normal cheer.
“Good morning, Sung. How are you feeling?” Phobos peered through the door before tentatively entering the room. It took him a second to realize where Sung’s voice had come from. The only indication that the Doctor was even in the room was the tufts of hair sticking out from underneath a blanket.
Sung groaned in response to the question.
Phobos noticed Sung’s armor pieces still strewn about the middle of the floor, and began picking them up and putting them away. “I take it you are not feeling well. That’s a shame.”
“No shit,” came the muffled, uncharacteristic reply.
Once all the pieces were in their place, Phobos took Sung’s desk chair and pulled it across the room to rest next to the bed, then sat down, leaning forward ever so slightly, searching for Sung’s face. He knew where it was supposed to be, but could not see it, and did not want to risk potential wrath by moving a blanket.
“You can’t stay in here forever.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can’t. You live forever, and we won’t allow you to spend the rest of your life moping over such an insignificant thing.”
Sung sighed. “Phobos, I would get mad at you for calling her insignificant, but I don’t quite have the energy.”
“I was not referring to Cee herself, I was referring to the loss of her in your life, and you know it. In the grand scope of forever, this is the most minor of inconveniences. You cannot let it overcome you. You need to pull yourself together.”
“I’m fully aware of that, but I’d like to stay here and mope. Just for today. And maybe tomorrow, too…”
Phobos’s attempt at getting Sung up and at ‘em had been met with the emotional equivalent of a brick wall. “I will be back later.” He stood and moved the chair back into its former position near the desk.
“Oh! One more thing!” Phobos scurried from the room, returning moments later with a white bottle in hand. “Breakfast.” He gently placed the Soylent next to Sung’s head, then left.
Once Sung was sure Phobos was gone, he allowed himself to sit up and chug the bottle of Soylent. Truth be told, he had been getting a bit hungry, and was grateful that Phobos thought to bring him something to eat—or, well, drink. He would have to thank him later.
About three hours passed with little change. Sung continued to mope in his room, Meouch and Phobos worried about him, and Havve passively tried to go about his day.
Then the doorbell rang. Meouch and Phobos had decided to go out and run some errands, leaving Havve to answer the door, and if he had eyebrows he would have raised both at the sight of Sung’s former Computer Wife standing on the threshold.
“WHAT ARE YOU—”
“I would like to speak with Doctor Sung. I need him to sign these,” she said, holding out some official-looking papers. Her voice was calm, collected, not a negative emotion to be detected.
The two robots stared at each other. Though their origins were very different, they both knew Sung best, having spent the most time around him, and by extension knew each other well, also. “PLEASE, COME IN,” Havve said after a moment of hesitation. “I SHALL SEE IF I CAN ROUSE THE DOCTOR.”
“Oh, is he asleep? I could always come back at a better time,” she said, stepping into the house.
“DOUBTFUL. HOWEVER, HE IS A BIT… UNWELL. YOU DEALT QUITE THE BLOW TO HIM LAST NIGHT, CEE.”
Clutching the papers to her chest, she told the other bot, “I am aware, and I wish to explain my actions. And to apologize. I suppose I just thought the breakup would be easier if not done face to face.”
Suddenly, Havve asked, “WHAT MADE YOU DECIDE TO LEAVE HIM?”
She sighed softly. “Havve, I feel like Sung should be the first to know why I’m leaving him, but I will tell you this: it is simply a matter of conflicting interests.”
“VERY WELL. I WILL SEE IF I CAN COAX HIM OUT.”
“May I… take a seat?”
“YES. DO NOT WORRY, YOU ARE NOT UNWELCOME HERE,” Havve reassured her as he turned and left the room, looking back to make sure she had made herself at least somewhat comfortable.
At some point, Sung decided it would be wise to partially emerge from his blanket cocoon, and stare blankly at the ceiling instead of suffocating within the prison of his bed. When Havve knocked on his door, he almost didn’t want to answer him, but let out a quiet “Come in” regardless.
“DOCTOR, THERE IS SOMEONE HERE TO SEE YOU.” Havve did not enter the room, just stood in the doorway, staring.
Sung sat up quickly at this, then asked, “Who?”
Havve’s lack of an answer gave away all Sung needed to know. It was her.
“I don’t want to see her,” he said sternly.
“BUT SHE HAS REQUESTED TO SEE YOU. IT SEEMS TO BE OF SIGNIFICANT IMPORTANCE.”
“I don’t care.”
The robot crossed his arms. “YOU DO NOT WISH TO HEAR HER EXPLAIN WHY SHE WANTS TO LEAVE YOU?”
“No, Hogan, she’s done her damage.”
“DOCTOR, YOU ARE BEING A PRICK. GO SPEAK TO HER.”
“No!” Sung exclaimed. “Why should I bother with her anymore? Maybe I’m moving on!” His eyes started welling with tears for the first time since the previous night, indicating that he was far from moving on.
Havve’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, the closest approximation to a sigh he could muster. “VERY WELL. I WILL TELL HER YOU ARE BEING PATHETIC AND REFUSING REASON.” He then left, slamming the door behind him and returning to where Cee was waiting patiently.
“He does not wish to see me, does he?”
“HIS PITIFUL DISPLAY IS SICKENING. I DO NOT THINK YOU WOULD WANT TO SEE HIM IN HIS CURRENT STATE, ANYWAY. I WILL BRING HIM THE PAPERS, GET HIM TO SIGN THEM, AND THEN YOU CAN LEAVE.”
A look of sadness crossed her visor. She still cared for Sung, just not in the same way, and she only wished to discuss that fact with him, to reason with him. Reluctantly, she handed the papers to Havve, indicating where signatures were necessary. She waited patiently for the other bot to return, and when he did, she flipped through the pages, making sure everything was in order.
Everything was signed and in order. They were now officially divorced.
Cee thanked Havve for his assistance, then left, hoping that maybe someday Sung would wish to reconcile with her and they could at least be friends.
Sung could hear her leaving. He didn’t want her to leave. He was an idiot for not talking to her, but it was too late now. The damage had been done. She was gone, probably for good this time.
One last chance to talk to her, to see her beautiful face, to hear her voice, and he fucking threw it away.
He was curled into the fetal position on his bed now, crying like a baby. Havve could hear him from the other room and just shook his head. It was the Doctor’s own fault.
Sung told himself that now was the time to move on, that he had to because he was never going to see her again, but memories of their time together flooded his consciousness.
He remembered the day she was first activated. Prototype Number Three. She looked exactly like the first two, but the second her visor lit up, he knew she was different. She was a success. The first perfectly functional robot he’d ever built from the ground up.
He had yet to alter the programming of her voice, so when he introduced himself, her first words in response were in a generic feminine, monotone voice.
“Hello, Doctor Sung. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He asked her to hold on just a moment as he made some adjustments. Working faster than he ever had before, he was able to alter the programming of her voice, adding a pleasant, almost singsong tone to it with a slightly lower, enticing pitch. He then asked for her designation.
“My designation is Prototype 3.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Sung said, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the cool metal. “If all goes well, that designation’ll change soon.”
She giggled. She actually giggled, and his heart melted.
It was not exactly love at first sight, but that was absolutely the moment Sung knew she was the one.
Then there was the time they first kissed. A part of him had expected, almost feared, it would feel cold and emotionless, like kissing a mirror, but that was gladly not the case. It was different from kissing an organic, but did not feel fake like he was afraid it would. She reciprocated the show of affection happily, in fact, she was the one that had initiated it, upon watching two humans perform the act in a movie.
“Can we do that?” she asked, looking over at him, her visor softly glowing in the darkened room.
Sung momentarily panicked. Her look turned to one of concern when she saw his shocked expression. “No—NO WAIT I MEAN YES! Yes. We can, if you want, that is.”
“If you are unsure, we do not hav—”
“Please!” There was the slightest hint of desperation in his voice, the indication of his worrying that he had fucked up the moment.
He had not.
She leaned down and kissed him, and every worry he had crumbled into dust.
Everything was okay.
Presently, however, everything was not ok, but Sung had to admit that reminiscing about the past was beginning to cause numbness instead of pain. Maybe this meant he would be able to move on after all.
He sat up, kicking the blankets away from his legs.
A few hours had managed to slip by while he was caught up in his thoughts. He could hear the television still blaring, and that Meouch and Phobos had returned at some point.
He stood up, threw on a plain white t-shirt, and exited his room for the first time that day.
Phobos was in the kitchen, perched on the counter with some sort of snack food in hand. Havve and Meouch were in the living room, watching TV. Reality TV, since Havve was so protective over the remote. Upon hearing the door to Sung’s room open, the three jerked their heads in its direction.
“AH, THE DOCTOR HAS DECIDED TO EMERGE AT LAST.”
“You look like shit, bud.”
“Thanks,” he said, seating himself on the couch next to Havve. He still sounded and looked like a shell of his former self, but at least he had left his room. It was a step in the right direction. “What’re we watching?” His gaze turned blankly to the television.
“KARDASHIANS. I HAVE SEEN THIS EPISODE BEFORE, BUT IT IS ONE OF THE BETTER ONES.”
“Those exist?” Sung asked, giving the bot a sideways look.
Meouch chuckled.
“LAUGH IT UP, COMMANDER. I AM SURE IT IS BETTER THAN WHATEVER YOU WANTED TO WATCH. AND YES, DOCTOR, SOME EPISODES CAN BE QUITE DULL. THIS IS NOT ONE OF THEM.”
“I see,” he said slowly. There was clearly a conflict taking place, but he could not for the life of him discern what it was. All he saw was three women senselessly yelling at each other.
“YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY UNFAMILIAR WITH THE ART. THE COMMANDER IS TOO, SO DO NOT WORRY, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.”
“Hey Phobos,” Meouch said casually. He looked up from his snack. “Are you familiar with the art known as reality TV?”
A grin that he had been holding back broke free and lit up his face. “I cannot say that I am, Commander.”
“YOU ARE ALL UNCULTURED.” Havve crossed his arms, glaring at each of them in turn.
This statement elicited another round of chuckling from Meouch and some silent laughter from Phobos. Sung couldn’t help but smile a little, just a tiny bit, at the absurdity of Havve’s passion for the Kardashians.
The other three took note of this. It reassured them that he would be okay.
The planet was called Ladyworld. It was a lush, tropical place, that just so happened to be mostly populated by members of various alien species that identified as women. The rest of the population consisted of beings attracted to women. The sprawling white beaches and vast, warm oceans made it an ideal vacation spot. And for those that were not fond of the beach, there was the Crystal City, Ladyworld’s crown jewel in a sense, situated amongst some cliffs that backed up into a mountain range. The bright sun assured days were always warm and clear, and the two moons lit up every night with an almost ethereal glow. Being there was like being in a dream.
The first of Sung’s robot armada to make it to Ladyworld was designation 1749, or, as she called herself, Eris. She had stowed away on a small craft and fit right in with the alien women on board. They allowed her to accompany them on their vacation to the planet, and she was overjoyed to have some new organic friends.
When they arrived, she almost short-circuited at the sights that her optic sensors were met with.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” one of her new friends asked.
“Yes! I never knew the universe could contain such a wonderful place!” she replied gleefully.
Two of her organic companions took her hands and led her to the nearest beach. The three alternated between splashing in the warm water and sunbathing on fluffy towels they laid out on the sand until the sun hung low on the horizon. When it began to take its own dip into the ocean, the three gathered their things and headed into the Crystal City, where they spent a good portion of the night dancing at one of the many clubs the place had to offer.
It only took that one day of fun for Eris to fall in love with the planet, and the next day, around noon, she began sending out transmissions to as many of her sisters as she could, inviting them all to join her on Ladyworld.
Approximately fifty of the bots received the transmission immediately and arrived on the planet the next day, whether by public shuttle or by somehow acquiring a personal craft. A scattered few had also managed to make organic friends that were heading in their direction, and caught a ride with them.
Within a couple weeks, the transmission had reached all the bots it was going to, which was around two thousand. The other thousand were either in a location out of range, or were happy wherever they managed to end up.
By the time a month had passed, the number of robotic guests on Ladyworld had increased drastically, and they all intended to stay there, finding the planet much more welcoming and fulfilling than the wasteland they were activated on.
Around this time, Cee was able to receive the transmission because she was in space with her husband and not on Earth, where the signal would have been dampened. She was, for the most part, aware of the existence of the other robots Sung had created, she just did not know what had become of them after they were tested and shipped off. It warmed her innerworkings to know that her sisters had managed to find a place where they could be happy.
She made sure Sung did not hear the transmission.
She also made sure to store the name “Ladyworld” in her memory banks, for possible future reference.
Some time later, when she had split from Sung and made the decision to leave Earth, she knew exactly where she wanted to go. With a bit of research, and the assistance of a rented spacecraft, she made her way across the cosmos to the beautiful planet.
Upon arriving, she was greeted by three robots that were almost identical to her, and if she was capable of tears of joy, she would have been sobbing. They happily introduced themselves, welcomed her to Ladyworld, and gave her a grand tour of the area. In return, she told them all about Earth, and explained her relationship with Sung, including why she left him.
“I can not believe you were married!” one exclaimed, her visor brightening.
She laughed. “Yes, well, I was.”
“Why did you leave him?” the second asked.
She pondered the question for a moment, then answered simply, “Conflicting interests.” She would elaborate later, but for now, that answer sufficed.
The four bots continued to walk around almost aimlessly for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Finally, Cee’s curiosity overcame her, and she asked, “What exactly do you do here?”
One of her sisters explained, “Well, this is a leisure planet, you see, so few beings stay here permanently. The organics have lives to get back to. We don’t. So, a few of us went to the ones that were running the show around here, and we asked if we could stay full time. Now, we are basically the ones in charge. We are more capable than the organics, and have no reason to leave.”
“It is a sort of permanent vacation,” another piped up. “A very interesting life to lead. I believe you will enjoy it here.”
A pause hung in the air before the third spoke. “When we received notice of your impending arrival, we were quite surprised. You are the first of us, after all, and the most advanced. We were… hoping you would take charge here. The organics have begun to leave us to run things ourselves.”
“Not immediately, of course!” the first added. “But with time! Our logic processors can only get us so far. We have only been speaking for a short while and it is already apparent you are far more adaptable than the rest of us.”
Cee was flattered, but not quite understanding. Still, she said, “Perhaps if I decide I like it here. Then, if you insist, you can put me in charge.”
As it turned out, she liked Ladyworld quite a lot, and took great pride in eventually overseeing every event that took place on the planet. It was her home, and her life there made her life on Earth seem a lot farther in the past than it was.
“You look depressed, Doc.”
“Thank you for the astute observation, Commander,” Sung said flatly. “It just so happens that tomorrow is a depressing day.”
“Why’re you depressed today, then?”
“I like being punctual.”
“Sure you do, bud. Come one, what’s eatin’ at ya? What’s the big deal with tomorrow?” Sung had been moping about the house all morning, acting quite the opposite of how he normally would, and Meouch wanted to get to the bottom of it. He had confronted him in the kitchen, while Phobos and Havve eavesdropped from another room.
He sighed. “It’s not what it is, Commander, it’s what it could have been.”
“You’re losin’ me.”
Sung shook his head. “Tomorrow would have been our anniversary. 5 years.”
“Our…? OH! The sex bot!” Meouch exclaimed, remembering the ordeal that their breakup had been. “What the fuck, buddy, I thought you moved on years ago?”
“That would be correct, I have moved on, but I can still miss her, can’t I? For just one day?”
“What, would you have made weird little robot kids by this point or somethin’?”
“N—no!” He crossed his arms defensively in a futile attempt to hide his embarrassment. He knew it was irrational to miss her after years of having moved on, but sentimentality had taken hold and had his train of thought locked in an iron grip.
Havve manifested in the room, Phobos creeping out behind him.
“PERHAPS A DISTRACTION IS NECESSARY,” the robot said, cracking his knuckles. Phobos placed a hand on his upper arm, catching Havve’s attention, and shook his head rapidly.
Meouch brought one hand up to his chin, stroking it thoughtfully. “Hogan does have a point. A distraction might do ya some good.”
“WOULD YOU PREFER I AIM FOR THE HEAD? OR SOMEWHERE LOWER, MAYBE?” Havve raised one dangerous looking fist.
“Not that kind of distraction!” Phobos grabbed his forearm, as if he would be able to stop Havve if he decided to take a swing.
“PAIN IS AN EXCELLENT DISTRACTION, PHOBOS.” He glared at the lord, but lowered his fist nonetheless.
“I have an idea,” Meouch said.
“SHOCKING.”
“What is it?” Sung asked, quite unenthusiastically.
“I’ve been hearing about this new vacation spot. Well, it’s not new, but in the past year it’s really gotten popular outside of its home system. Some place called Ladyworld. Maybe taking a little trip there’d be a nice distraction.”
“COMMANDER, I DO NOT THINK—”
“Sounds like fun.” A hint of enthusiasm crept into Sung’s voice. “Better than moping around here, I guess.”
Meouch grinned and clapped Sung on the shoulder. “Pack your bags, we’re going to Ladyworld!”
The Groove Station’s warp drive ensured that the four arrived at the vacation planet within 24 hours. It was far from Earth, not absurdly so, but enough to be impossible to detect. Before they even landed, they were all taken aback by the sights that greeted them. Even from a distance, Ladyworld was breathtakingly gorgeous.
“God, I wonder who fuckin’ runs a place like this,” Meouch thought aloud as he tore his from the view and back to the control panel to begin maneuvering the ship into a landing position.
“MOST LIKELY ROBOTS,” Havve supplied. “IT LOOKS TOO PRISTINE TO BE KEPT UP BY ORGANICS.”
“Why is it called Ladyworld?” Phobos asked innocently.
Meouch grinned. “You’ll see.”
The answer to Phobos’s question was glaringly obvious the moment they exited the Groove Station. There were women of various alien species everywhere. Almost as far as the eye could see. It was all too apparent why Meouch picked this place as their destination.
“You are so goddamn predictable, Commander.”
He merely shrugged. “Where to first?” he then asked, eyes scanning the general area.
They made their way to one of the beaches first, Meouch getting promptly rejected by each girl he tried to make a pass at along the way. Havve quickly found entertainment in building sand castles that looked less like castles and more like fortresses. His valiant creative efforts garnered some attention by passersby, and Meouch got slightly jealous. Sung was amused by this, and poked fun at the Commander until he suggested they spend some time someplace else.
The four spent the rest of the day roving from place to place, mostly within the city, just killing time. Phobos, Meouch, and Havve were glad to see that Sung looked like his usual cheery self, smiling at everyone he met, showing off for anyone who bothered to look his way for more than five seconds, et cetera. Perfectly normal Doctor Sung behaviors.
Havve and Phobos, however, were a bit more observant than Sung was being, and noticed an interesting pattern in their surroundings. Havve was correct in his assumption that the planet was kept up by robots. There was one around almost every corner performing one task or another.
Logically, all the robots were feminine in appearance. Also, they all looked very similar. Not identical, but close enough to be copies of each other.
What baffled them was the familiarity of how they looked. It was as if they could have struck up a conversation with one like they had been acquainted for years.
They discussed this fleetingly while Sung and Meouch were preoccupied, but Phobos did not have the same insight into the situation as Havve, and became incredibly confused when the bot suddenly blurted, “IT IS THE SPARES.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“THE SPARES. THE ONES WE SHIPPED OFF. THEY HAVE SOMEHOW ENDED UP HERE.”
“I… I do not follow.”
“PHOBOS, NOW IS NOT THE IDEAL TIME TO EXPLAIN. I SHALL GO INTO DETAIL LATER, WHEN WE ARE NOT IN AS PUBLIC AN AREA. OR AROUND THE DOCTOR. THIS IS THE LAST PIECE OF INFORMATION HE NEEDS TO HEAR AT THE MOMENT.”
“Okay…” He had no idea what Havve was on about, but dropped the subject.
“IT WOULD BE WISE TO ENSURE HE DOES NOT LOOK TOO CLOSELY AT THE ROBOTS.” Havve managed to add before Sung and Meouch turned back to them.
Phobos was on edge and put off by Havve’s cryptic statements. Spares? Spares of what? What could a bunch of lady robots possibly be spares of?
He had to force back an audible gasp when the pieces fell into place.
Havve noticed the action, nodding.
Meouch broke Phobos’s moment of clarity by saying, “Alright. It’s getting’ a bit late. I figured it’d be boring to sleep on the Groove Station, so we’re gonna stay at that place.” He gestured to one of the taller buildings in the city, just a couple blocks away from where they currently were. It was, of course, a hotel. Not the only one on the planet, not the nicest, but the largest. The one where the most action would be, as Meouch would probably put it.
“Nice, nice.” Sung said. “I think I’d like to walk around a bit more, so why don’t you and Phobos take care of that, and I’ll hang out with Havve.”
“Sounds good to me. C’mon Phobos.” The two began walking down the sidewalk, Meouch sneaking glances at almost every girl they passed. He gave up when one waved at Phobos instead.
Meanwhile, Sung and Havve continued wandering aimlessly. The streets were lit up with neon signs that sent colors cascading through the crystal buildings. They had not planned on hitting any clubs on the first night of the trip, but the idea was quite tempting to Sung as he ogled the variety that was laid out before them. The faint music that drifted from the entrance of each one only enticed him further.
Havve, however, was uninterested. “IS THERE A PURPOSE TO THIS, DOCTOR? WOULD IT NOT HAVE BEEN MORE EFFICIENT FOR THE FOUR OF US TO STAY TOGETHER?”
“Efficiency doesn’t exist when you’re on vacation, Havve. We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“ARE YOU?”
He hummed. “I’d say so, yes. Are you?”
“CURRENTLY, NO.”
“What a shame. Maybe tomorrow we’ll just leave you at the beach to make sand castles.”
“THAT WOULD BE PREFERABLE.”
Sung’s cellular device pinged, indicating a text from Meouch and that the conversation was over. “Alright, buddy, time to make our way over to the Commander and Phobos.”
“THANK GOODNESS.”
Sung let out a sigh in mock exasperation.
They met up with Meouch and Phobos in the hotel lobby after taking a detour back to the Groove Station to grab their minimal luggage. Meouch held out the keycard to one room, passing it off to Havve, and gave the other to Phobos, saying, “Normal setup. You and Hogan in one room, me and Phobos in the other.”
Sung nodded in acknowledgement, walking over to the elevator bay and pressing the ‘up’ arrow.
While he was preoccupied, Phobos quicly grabbed Havve’s attention. “There is another of those robots working the front desk. How many of them are there?”
“I CANNOT RECALL AN EXACT NUMBER,” Havve stated as the elevator doors opened. “BUT THERE WERE A LOT.”
Meouch broke any silence there could’ve been during the elevator ride as soon as the doors shut. “Y’wanna know who else I heard is staying here?” he asked as he punched in the floor number.
“Who?” Sung responded.
“Good ol’ Danny Sexbang,” he said. “Heard something about him being here with a robot. Didn’t know he was into that.”
“Oh! Well, if we run across him, we should say hello!”
Havve whirled around. “NO, WE SHOULD NOT.”
“Aw, c’mon Havve, he’s our friend! If we see him, we should be polite!”
“If he is here with someone, it might be more respectful to leave him alone.” Phobos tried to assist Havve’s cause.
“I gotta agree with Doc on this one,” Meouch said. “If I happen to hear about where he’s staying we’ll go pay him a visit.
“WHY?”
“Oh, I dunno, maybe because it’s kinda cool that someone we know is here the same time we are, and it’s the polite thing to do.” It was like Sung was actively fighting against Havve and Phobos, being irrationally stubborn on purpose just so he could stumble across something he probably wouldn’t want to. Petty arguments like this were rare, but they did happen. Sung was the unstoppable force to Havve’s immovable object.
Static emanated from Havve’s speakers. Phobos put a hand on his arm. “Just drop it. It is not that big of a deal.” Havve shot him a look that could kill.
Then, like the clouds parting the heavens, the elevator doors opened, and it was almost as if the squabble never happened. They walked down the hallway, found their rooms, and Meouch and Phobos parted ways from Havve and Sung. Few words were spoken for the rest of the night.
The next morning, however, many words were spoken.
“DOCTOR, AS YOUR FRIEND AND BANDMATE FOR MANY MILLENNIA, I DO NOT CONDONE LEAVING WITH THE COMMANDER.”
“Hogan, as your friend and bandmate for just as many millennia, I do not condone you telling me what to do on my vacation!”
Meouch leaned against the doorway to the room, holding back the tiniest smile because of how ridiculous Havve was being. Phobos had been acting a similar way ever since Meouch casually said he knew what room Danny was staying in and how he wanted to pay him a friendly visit, and maybe invite him and whoever he brought with him to hang out with the four of them.
He zoned back into the argument just in time to hear Havve say, “VERY WELL, DOCTOR, BUT DO NOT SAY I DID NOT WARN YOU.”
Sung turned on his heel away from the robot and walked past Meouch, right out the door.
Meouch chuckled as he followed him. “At this point you’re just doin’ this out of spite, Doc.”
“Precisely, Commander! I don’t know what’s gotten into Havve, but he’s being absurd!”
“Phobos has been actin’ the same way. Maybe they think Danny’s a bad influence or something,” he joked.
“Whatever the reason, I just want to prove them wrong. We don’t need to be supervised all the fuckin’ time!” Sung let out an exasperated sigh. “What floor?”
“Penthouse,” the Commander grinned.
The elevator ride was shorter and silent this time. When the doors opened, the two stepped out into the foyer of the penthouse suite, wondering how the fuck Danny had managed to pay for this place. They didn’t have to do much looking around to know it was extravagant. Plush carpet, large windows with spectacular views, a crystal chandelier in the dining room, the whole nine yards. Not a single Daniel in sight, however.
“Maybe he’s still asleep?” Sung offered, tilting his head toward a closed door that was obviously the bedroom.
“You gonna barge in ‘n wake him up?”
“Sure, why not. A little surprise never hurt anyone,” Sung said as he walked over to the door, his hand closing around the doorknob. Meouch moved to stand behind him.
Sung slowly turned the knob and opened the door just a crack, just to take a peek inside.
It was less of a gasp and more of an unholy screech that was let loose from Sung’s lips upon seeing none other than Danny Sexbang with a robot straddling his hips. It wasn’t the scene itself that dealt the blow, but the fact that the robot appeared to be his ex-wife. The lights in the room were dimmed, of course, but Sung knew it was unmistakably her.
His hand dropped from the doorknob. The door swung fully open, revealing the scene to Meouch.
Danny and the bot ceased their actions, frantically moving to separate from each other when they realized they were caught in the act. He fell off the bed trying to grab his pants from the floor. The robot just sat and stared, attempting to determine where she had seen the screeching intruder before.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!” Sung yelled, barging into the room and making a beeline for Danny.
Meouch, confused, made no move to stop him.
Sung stomped across the polished wooden floor, hands balled into dangerous fists, and a look that could kill distorting his face. Danny could’ve sworn, in that moment of pure blind rage, he saw his eye turn red.
He loomed over Danny, who was cowering on the floor, and cracked his knuckles. “It was you. This whole time, it was YOU!”
“I—I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about dude!”
Sung clenched and unclenched his fist, preparing to throw a punch. Danny moved one arm up to cover his face.
“STOP!” The robot suddenly cried, lunging at Sung and pushing him away from Danny. “Who are you?! What are you doing?! What is going on?!”
Sung stumbled, falling to the floor as well. He looked up at the robot, hurt. “You—You don’t remember me?”
“Remember you?” she scoffed. “I have never seen you before!”
Meouch seemed to have a ‘eureka’ moment while standing dumbfounded in the doorway. “Doc, did you think she was…?”
“She’s not…?” His jaw went slack. Color drained from his face.
“Who the fuck do you think she is, man?!” Danny exclaimed, picking himself up off the floor.
“I’m right here!” The robot put her hands on her hips, an angry glow emanating from her visor.
“I—I thought you were my wife—EX-WIFE! I thought you were her…”
Dead silence. Sung’s eye filled with tears as the robot stared down at him.
Her tone changed to one of sympathy as she said, “It is an easy mistake to make. There are over two thousand other robots on this planet that look almost exactly like me, and she is one of them.” She held out a hand, and he took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. Then, putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, “I think I know which of us you mistook me for, and I think you should talk to her.”
For a moment, he did not know what to say. The robot, Meouch, and Danny watched him, waiting for a proper reaction.
There wasn’t much of one.
Sung just nodded, then said in a placid voice, “I think I’d like that.”
He apologized profusely to Danny and his robot companion, and told Meouch to continue with his day, not to bother to wait up for him. The robot took a moment to step outside of the room and call someone, leaving the remaining three staring awkwardly at each other.
She returned, making a motion for Sung to follow her.
They exited the hotel, then began walking through the city. The robot made attempts at small talk as she led him down several blocks, turning left at one, right at another, another left, but he was too antsy to respond with anything other than “yes,” “no,” or a simple hum of acknowledgement. She stopped talking when she realized it was only making him more anxious.
They followed the sidewalk down a narrow street that was nestled between two tall crystal buildings. The pavement turned to cobblestone, and Sung noticed a wrought iron gate up ahead. The robot hummed, producing a key as she approached the gate, unlocking it and letting it swing open.
“You will know her when you see her, yes?”
He nodded, walking past her and through the gate, right into a lush garden nestled between three crystal skyscrapers. It was filled with tropical trees, plants, and flowers of various size, shape, and color, native to the planet and not. Situated in the center of it all was a large marble fountain, with a stone path leading up to and around its perimeter. On three sides of the fountain were wooden benches. There was a figure sitting on one of them, but they were obscured by the water rocketing upward in the fountain.
Sung continued walking down the path, around the fountain, bringing the figure into view. He gasped, stopping dead in his tracks. It was… Oh it most definitely was…
Her.
She smiled, gesturing to the spot next to her on the bench. Slowly, as if in a daze, he moved to sit next to her.
She hadn’t changed a bit. He couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious, and hyper-aware of everything minute thing that was happening around them.
“Hello, Doctor,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s nice to finally see you again.”
He nodded, dumbfounded. It had been years, and she still looked just like how he remembered her. He opened his mouth to say something, then promptly shut it, not wanting to make an idiot of himself, for once.
“Something to say?” she asked.
“Would it be too much to ask for a hug?” Sung softly inquired, looking at her face but avoiding direct contact with her optic sensors.
“Not at all,” she said, pulling him into a brief hug.
His chin did not rest on her shoulder for long, but that quick contact brought back a flood of memories.
Cee released him from her embrace, noticing he looked as if he had seen a ghost. Not wanting to call attention to it, however, she decided to pose a question.
“Do you know why I left you?”
Sung looked like a fish gasping for air as he tried to find the words to answer her. After what seemed like the longest few seconds of his immortal life, he said, “Something about conflicting interests, right? That’s what Havve told me you said.”
“Yes, something like that.”
Sung looked down at his hands in his lap, lacing his fingers together and tapping his thumbs against each other. He snuck a glance over at her hands, and noticed a ring. “You found someone else.”
“Well, yes,” she said, now looking down at her own hands. “I recently got engaged.”
“Really?!” Sung exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. “I—I’m happy for you!”
She laughed nervously. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate that sentiment.”
“What’re they like?”
“Do you know what I meant when I said ‘conflicting interests?’” Cee suddenly changed the subject, dodging the question. She had avoided this for years, out of fear that Sung would not understand. She was built for him, and she couldn’t love him. What did that say about her?
She still had respect for him, and wished to be his friend, which would be impossible if she was a failure in his eyes.
Sung took her hand, making eye contact. “Cee, you’re nervous. You have something to tell me. I know it, you know it, and I want you to know I’m not mad at you, and I support your decisions. I—I still love you, just not in the same way that I used to. I was a fucking idiot for not talking things out with you that day.”
Sometime during that, a tear managed to sneak out and fall down Sung’s cheek. If Cee was capable of crying, she probably would have been.
“I was also an idiot for being afraid to tell you. We both made mistakes,” she said, a weepy lilt affecting her robotic voice.
“Please, tell me,” Sung said, taking both of Cee’s hands in his and smiling up at her. “Why did you leave?” With a touch of humor, he added, “What man in this galaxy could possibly be more perfect than I?”
“Doctor, I’m a lesbian.”