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Summary
“I wish you had a mouth,” you say, nuzzling your face into his throat, and when he chuckles, it’s not just audio, you can feel it in his stomach.
“Science has yet to crack the Uncanny Valley problem,” he says, reaching for your face to cup your jaw in his hand and run his smooth-jointed thumb over your cheek. “Trust me, it’s better this way. Imagine, some kind of silicone-wrapped servo contraption, it’d be like making out with a fuckin’ laundry wringer.”
Not much to see here. Just two lonely, messed-up people -- one of whom happens to be a robotic AI with inscrutable sex issues and a limited lease on life -- trying to make the best of the apocalypse.
Series
- Part 6 of Automatic Transmission