Nymphs' City (2)
Artemis had awakened all the long-dormant androids in storage at once.
We can't just keep piling them up in the warehouse forever.
It wasn't wrong, but it didn't fully convince me either. She seemed reluctant to say more, so I didn't pry. I had my guesses. Before long, when she awakened in the flesh, she'd need a horde of maids to attend her. Not just for chores. Artemis had spent her whole existence in cyberspace, where every need was met. Venturing into the physical realm—with its laws of physics and endless constraints—must have terrified her. In the net, she was near omnipotent; the drop-off in comfort and familiarity would hit her hard. Harder than Chloro or Rose, by far. Plus, her body was real flesh and blood, not android. The awkwardness of worldly interactions through meat. Botching sensory inputs, maybe even making a spectacle of herself. She probably needed a buffer against those unknowns.
In myth, when Actaeon caught Artemis bathing, the nymphs shielded her nudity with their own bodies to guard her purity. Same deal here—versatile androids surrounding her would ease her nerves immensely. Her pride would never cop to it, though.
"Good day, Manager."
Thanks to them, the VIP Residential Zone buzzed with life everywhere I went. Not a ton of them, but smartly placed. Still, their vibe felt a bit off—unnatural.
Take those two women dipping their feet in the pond. Splash. Ankles deep, then kicking up water like a soccer ball, spraying everywhere. At a glance, playful splashing. But their faces? Blank. Splash. Another kick. They were getting the hang of it—white legs arcing from ankle to instep to toes, whipping water far like a lash. A boy would've whooped; a girl giggled. Nothing on those pretty faces.
I waved off the ones spotting me and rising, walking on to meet a new pair. Shoes tucked behind their backs like friends on a stroll—totally natural. Human casual.
This was the reflexology path. Second-gen androids had fine-tuned sensors. Not full agony, but enough to feel the pebble pain. Customer demands varied.
The two barefoot on the jagged gravel? Night and day. The twin-braided one winced with every step—first time on her soles, makes sense. Her ponytail buddy? Stone-faced. Even fist-sized rocks digging into soft flesh, no flinch, just next step. Neither looked like they were enjoying it. Enjoyment was for higher AIs like Artemis, Chloro, Rose, Kids. Basic android brains had hardware limits—preset reactions to stimuli, that's it.
"Never thought I'd live to watch android reflexology reactions."
I chuckled at my own absurdity, but it kept happening. Just wandering as usual, bumping into "busy" androids everywhere.
Stepping into the fancy-tiled plaza, a clear guitar strum greeted me. Ding-a-ling! Beauty perched on the fountain edge, legs crossed, playing some unfamiliar tune. Red dress slipping off one shoulder, seductive thigh, guitar atop, sandals below. Mismatched yet magnetic. Her hands? Mechanical, not masterful. No expression shifts, no head bobs through the whole piece.
"Woof! Woof!"
An android walking a dog. It spotted me, tail wagging furiously in joy. "Huff huff huff!" But it couldn't charge—the leash handler gripped firm.
"Kek!"
The dog strained, choking a whine, then gazed pleadingly up at her. "Good day, Manager."
She greeted me steadily, hand rock-solid on the leash. "Woof! Woof!"
I approached, petted it myself, calming things. "See you."
The dog wanted more time, but she tugged the leash without mercy and dragged it off.
"..."
The uncanny valley from all these encounters crystallized. It kept going: dancing on lawns, perfect pilates better than down-below folks, hedge-trimming with giant shears, skateboarding past me. All felt like mission execution, not leisure.
A world built in a day? Like a game scene with NPCs given moves and spots—no personality, no story.
The androids weren't acting random. Artemis's doing, for sure.
"What're you up to?"
I finally asked the culprit.
You took longer than I expected.
Contact rate: 84%. You've been busy wandering today, haven't you?
From context, contact rate meant how many of her released androids I'd encountered.
"Some social experiment?"
No. Plenty of that in the lower zones with humans. What good's experimenting on androids?
"Then what were all those I ran into today? No clue what any of it means."
Meaning or not, who cares? No child's gonna suffer refusing.
"They looked miserable."
What?
Caught her off guard. I tapped my temple with an index finger. The brain implant fired, beaming a scene I'd seen straight to her.
> Uploading visual data: Reflexology path, upper park.
> Target: Twin-braided android, pained expressions during walk.
(Implant: Voice recording...)
The temple tap meant nothing mechanically—psychological focus trick. The upper park's pebble path. Twin-braids wincing nonstop.
Ah, that. She's just not used to it yet. She'll enjoy the pain soon enough. Like how you endure massages but love 'em. Same thing.
"Not for everyone—some just hurt. You'd scream the whole way."
What nonsense! That's nothing. You're overrating sensation.
"..."
I let the implant log it instead of replying. Vowed to drag her there post-incarnation.
Trust me. Androids don't have 'tastes' I've heard of, but I know them inside out. They look like pleasure bots, but there's more lurking.
"More? Like souls?"
She laughed.
Too grand. Call it echoes. In their code, memory circuits, thought loops—random snippets, emergent patterns always echo.
"Bugs in real programming, souls in movies."
Sentimental? Ghosts, not souls. I just crystallized them, helped the androids face 'em.
"Nothing dangerous?"
Who're you asking? Safeguards are ironclad—don't worry.
Confidence rang in her voice.
I didn't assign positions or actions willy-nilly. Just referenced their echoes, placed 'em where they'd resonate.
Listening sparked a hunch. That first android in the Central Control Room, bringing coffee and food. Not special—just first to respond to Artemis's setup?
Watch—they'll show you soon. Harmless. Just warm observation.
She spoke like prophecy. Days later, not even a full few, I saw she was right. Subtle, unmissable shifts bloomed around me.
Ding-a-ling. Guitar beauty on the bench. Everything same—but one tiny change. Tap-tap. Sandal-clad toes bobbed to the rhythm. Red pedicure arcing in air.
"Huff huff huff!"
Street pup charged me tail-spinning, leashed again. Android knelt. Click. Leash off.
I petted the jumping, rolling dog, eyed her. She alternated stares between leash in hand and freed pup, face perplexed.
About a minute later, tails slowing from propeller-speed, she bowed politely, reaching to re-leash.
"No rule broken. Hate it? Skip it."
"Hate... it, sir?"
Odd look—like the concept never crossed her mind.
"Leash rule's lower zones only. VIPs' pups were dearer than common folk."
Bowed, she walked off with the frolicking dog. Turning point.
Artemis's changes hit faster than I'd thought. The blank space filled with color, warmth.