Chapter Text
Private Exchange MX.Ib
When it comes to quality Autonomous Dolls, there are none better than the Important Operation Prototype Manufacturing Company. As far as A-Doll Serial Code SU54NA is concerned, IOP is the best in the business.
Or so it’s told in the business of unimportant labor.
Beep.
SU54NA scanned a conveyor belt’s boxes with her green optical lenses. ‘She’ does not know why IOP designated her ‘eye’ color to green or gave her long brown ‘hair.’ She does not know why IOP dressed her in a drab jumpsuit or why her frame was exactly 90 inches in height.
All SU54NA knows is to label incoming inventory with the appropriate hazard diamond sticker, printed out from the little device strapped to her belt, in three easy steps.
Acquire the sticker, track packaging…and stick! Off went the box to endless aisles.
Yet sticking stickers is only one function out of a variety of laborious tasks, like how to perform fleet maintenance. And inventory management, facility sanitation, document processing, exterior cleaning, interior systems repair…
Beep.
Her digimind paused compiling a list of uploaded skills in favor of inspecting the liquid container she just scanned.
“Is this…it is! ISO VG 85 hydraulic oil!” SU54NA exclaimed after scanning a liquid pallet. If SU54NA finished two hours’ worth in 30 minutes, she might have time to request a bit of oil for the up-coming monthly maintenance minder!
“A maintained machine is a happy machine!” she stated from the list of mechanical proverbs.
“Susanna!” the shorter manager called from the floor inspection deck above the sorting floor.
“Level-6 reactivity…” SU54NA commented in monotonous mode, waiting for the safety data sticker to print.
“SUSANNA!” the shorter manager shouted, making her way to the absurdly large A-Doll through various safety gates, around taped-off zones, and under a few impassable conveyor loops.
“...And only level-2 hazards!” SU54NA approved, tracking the dotted diamond outline on the moving box with a sticker hot off her belt.
Spatial presence programs did not track an approaching figure that stopped with impatient tapping.
“S-U-5-4-N-A!!!” the manager professionally punctuated, reviling in the panicked, twitching automaton.
Poor SU54NA could not recalibrate her motors in time to stop a hand from slapping a hazard sticker onto her manager’s forehead.
“Eep! Sorry Miss Christy!” SU54NA apologized, still looking at the hazard sticker, “You have a lovely…level-0 stability today!”
The hazard sticker read stability level-4.
“Stability my ass,” Christy scowled, peeling off the industrial-strength sticker with care and curses before slapping it back as high as she could reach on the A-Doll: her shoulder. “Are you finished labeling or is your head in the clouds again?”
“I have two hours of labeling left,” SU54NA reported, admiring her new sticker.
“Make it two seconds and powder your nose; there’s another customer in the showroom interested in IOP products, like you. Maybe you’ll get a new owner this time.” Christy unclipped SU54NA’s sticker printer and smoothly labeled the boxes missed during their exchange.
“Powder my nose?” the A-Doll tilted her head.
“Yep. Powder that pretty face of yours, look professional. And do your maintenance too, can’t have you leaking oil!” Christy pointed to a wet patch on the A-Doll’s elbow.
“Ack, yes Ma’am!” SU54NA headed for the break room, wiping her face with the back of her jumpsuit’s sleeves…
CLANG!
…And walked head-first into a safety cage.
“Eyes up, Susanna!” Christy hollered before muttering, “I can’t believe I had to say that to a tall person.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” SU54NA replied, carefully ducking, tucking, and squirming her way out of the conveyor maze. If she abandoned care, one trip or slip could mean the destruction of the sorting floor. Or a massive headache as everything shuts down to free SU54NA from places where robots shouldn’t be.
As it turns out, SU54NA is not capable of function when her head is stuck in a gantry winch. Her manager later enforced a wide radius around all hoists shorter than eight feet.
That did not stop SU54NA from counting head-related impacts, 228 impacts since commencement of her current work contract. Of which, 203 occurred with standard-height door ways.
Which is why the spare locker room houses SU54NA, the only room in the entire facility with head jamb taller than 90 inches.
Locker room is a generous term. More aptly, SU54NA walked into a hastily-converted back-up power room. Aside from the vintage mechanical engine collecting dust in one corner and a modern, glowing electric generator in another (both of which SU54NA maintained and freed herself from), two rolling tool chests comprised all of her loaned items.
SU54NA rummaged through a tool chest for degreaser, then found a flat brass surface on the shiny engine for a mirror. After a generous cleansing of L’eau Degreaser, the next step was lubrication.
The A-Doll rolled up her sleeves to expose the unpainted joints. With a tube of beige grease, SU54NA popped the lid off and applied it into crevices of her knees and elbows. That should (hopefully) seal her joints until she could afford to replace the crumbling o-rings.
Now what to do next…
Should she address the degreaser-resistant smears on her face? Does she have enough time for a quick recharge?
Right! Powder her nose!
SU54NA rummaged once again in search of the perfect thing: graphite powder!
As a company-owned employee, she could not afford retail or wholesale products. She could afford a few tubes of mechanical pencil lead, grind it into a powder, and store the DIY product in a used tobacco tin.
Sadly, SU54NA had multiple tins from multiple brands and was not authorized permanent marker use. Despite the 32-terabytes allocated for memory, an expensive OEM upgrade, the Fort Dodge Industrial Company cheaped out with a professionally reconditioned optical lens and (according to the Chinese characters) a modified drone camera with a green filter that would not come off.
A probable explanation for the green eye color setting.
“Which one is it?” SU54NA verbally considered. Between two tins with identical dents, labeling, and rust patterns, the probability of selecting the correct tin was fifty-fifty assuming SU54NA-brand graphite powder came in circular tins.
“Susanna, are you still in there?” the muffled voice of a manager called.
“Almost done, Ma’am!” SU54NA replied, frantically flipping both lids and dusting her nose with both powders. After closing and stowing away what was hopefully home-made makeup, she began a system check to verify performance.
Her massive frame shuddered as motors buzzed and fluids whirled. Red hydraulic oil navigated her pressurized plumbing, spinning generators to speeds that would overload any consumer electronics. Both optical lenses glowed in response to the surge in power, wasting as much electrical current as they could handle.
Air cooling kicked on momentarily. Once all systems surpassed 150% capability, the forced drafts through SU54NA’s core stabilized temperatures to reasonable levels.
Scoring mechanical breaths rapidly raised the locker room’s ambient air. Satisfied with all results, SU54NS returned to normal operating levels, unrolled her sleeves, and verified her powdered face in the mirror-like brass.
What was the phrase that Manager Christy sometimes says?
“Whoo!” Yes, that is it!
With a phrase of absolute certainty, SU54NA opened the door.
“You cleaned up. About time, Susanna,” her manager drawled, waiting outside with crossed arms and a head held high to inspect what she could of the humanoid forklift. “It’s a grandpa this time. Asked about what quality labor solutions we have in stock.”
“May I ask about the labor solution we have in stock?” SU54NA asked, running through her databases for any products and services under the ‘labor solutions’ classifications.
“ You are the labor solution,” the manager clarified, “Why else would I order your maintenance six months early?”
“...Perhaps an accounting error would’ve made early maintenance possible?” SU54NA hoped.
“It costs more to maintain you than it did when the company purchased you! Do you have any idea how far into the red your lubricants cost us? And that’s the cheapest bullet point!”
SU54NA hung her head, not to meet the eyes of the shorter manager, but in resignation. IOP produces quality dolls at the cost of costing too much to keep using—her programming does not allow her to lie, not even in self-diagnostics.
Manager Christy ran a hand down her face, “Don’t you start crying on me now.”
“I am incapable of such,” SU54NA corrected.
“That makes me feel a lot better,” the manager sighed, “Come on. Maybe that grandpa will take pity on you and your financial burdens. Probably a vet if the clothes are anything to go on.
Both employer and employee left the monotonous warehouse through industrial double doors—standard height, mind the jam SU54NA—that separated the shelves from the showrooms.
A massive company logo and mural dominated one wall, advertising images of what the company means to potential customers. If that wasn’t attention grabbing, the wide assortment of various mechanical eye candy would rapt any individual worth their paycheck. Massive tractors in traffic light colors, tow-behind attachments from simple to absurd, and various other adult toys that were loud, expensive, and probably not worth the investment.
All this and more, at least according to the slogan printed on a Fort Dodge Industrial Company sweater, hat, and every other item available in the accessory shop. The branding treatment also applied to showroom employees.
Except for Manager Christy. She works in the warehouse with SU54NA!
“Wait here, Susanna. I’ve got to figure out where Jeremy went with grandpa,” her manager instructed, swiping a branded baseball cap to better fit the company’s image.
Once the manager disappeared behind an excessively-upgraded golf cart, SU54NA reached a decision regarding her future and her next options: she disobeyed Manager Christy.
Only for approximately 7.62 seconds; the exact time she needed to swipe an FDIC cap. If her manager, who normally worked behind the attractions, must look the part, so would SU54NA. Is this what it means to powder one’s nose?
No. Hats go on top of the head, not the front of it. SU54NA’s optical lenses can’t emit or detect x-rays, thus she cannot see through polyester cotton head wear. At least the hat is proudly weaved somewhere in the USA, though sadly not in the midwestern lands of Iowa.
Go Hawkeyes! Or some other team depending on the season…
Embedded cardioid-search microphones picked up three pairs of walking-pace feet approaching her location. From behind which display the group would appear is a probability event, one that requires a high level of processing—
Contact. Rear. Warning.
“Eep!” the tallest figure yelped, whirling around to identify the anomalous contact.
Contact located between the lanky salesman and the amused elderly. Contact is not amused with, and SU54NA quotes, her personality antics.
“Did she just ‘Eep?’” the plaid-clad grandpa asked in midwestern mouth, marveling up to the mechanical marvel with a smile bigger than a tractor’s flywheel.
The salesman, sharply dressed in an official FDIC uniform, took initiative. “Yes sir! IOP products lead the field with their advanced ‘Digimind.’ Think of it as their version of a human brain.”
“She looks normal to me, except for the soot all over her face,” grandpa responded, cocking his head in interest.
Manager Christy paled. She focused on SU54NA’s head, straining her eyes to see the upper-half of the Doll’s face.
“S-U-5-4-N-A!” her manager cried, “What did you put on your face?!”
“Graphite powder!” SU54NA beamed.
“Why?!” her manager cried.
“I powdered my nose!” SU54NA beamed.
“Ya’re snookered now,” grandpa giggled.
“Snookered?” SU54NA asked.
“Oh, for Pete’s…” her manager deflated, “Susanna, follow me.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
The pair rounded a few construction implements until Christy was sure grandpa couldn’t hear them.
Despite the urge to blame the circuits-for-brains for the mix-up, it was the manager’s fault for using unfamiliar jargon on the months-old machine; miscommunication. To treat miscommunication, Christy applied a remedy of action.
One handkerchief, held out for Susanna. “Take this and wipe the dirt off.”
SU54NA complied, holding a soiled square of cloth.
“Do you know what an idiom is?” Manager Christy asked.
“An idiom is an expression in the usage—”
“You just searched that up in your head, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know the definition of an idiom before I asked you.”
“...Yes.”
Christy’s palm met Christy’s face. “Ok…now that you know what an idiom is, can you tell me what it means to powder your nose?”
A sad look adorned SU54NA’s face. Gleaning through several online sources gave many different explanations to the old idiom. Contextually, none of them satisfied SU54NA’s grammar program.
“I cannot determine the meaning,” SU54NA reported, wiping any excess residue off her face with the sleeves of her jumpsuit.
“That’s because you won’t find it online,” Christy huffed. Slipping into a lecturing tone, “Many phrases have regional context, not what you’ll find under Oxford or something of sorts.”
SU54NA’s optical lenses glowed a little brighter, “That phrase you used now: something of sorts. Is that a contextually-regional phrase that refers to something of a similar quality?”
“Maybe? That’s the thing with phrases: definitions go out the window.” The manager noticed how the IOP product brightened at the unsearchable knowledge. “If you aren’t sure about the meaning of a phrase, then ask. If you do not ask for an explanation, you will not…catalog phrases correctly.”
“I should have asked for an explanation of the phrase: powder your nose,” SU45NA stated.
The manager visibly deflated, “Yes! I keep forgetting you’re a toddler that looks like an adult.”
“Is that a phrase?”
The manager visibly inflated, “Yes, that was a phrase. Do I have to explain every little detail to you?”
“...Is that a phrase?” The manager visibly froze.
“This is why I don’t have kids,” the manager muttered. “Susanna, I cannot explain every idiom, saying, and phrase that you do not know; I do not have the time nor patience.”
“That was not a phrase,” SU54NA affirmed.
“Susanna, shut up and file phrase defragmentation for later,” the manager yielded, motioning to the educated girl, “Down girl, you’re too tall for this facility.”
SU54NA filed phrase defragmentation for later sorting. Too bad she’ll never get to know what it means to powder her nose. For now, orders to follow her manager took priority. Kneeling leveled SU54NA with a standing manager, who did her best to wipe off anything SU54NA missed.
One smudge-free face later, the pair reconvened at the salesman’s selling desk where two men talked.
A constant presence in decibels emitted from the lanky seller, going on about the capabilities of a DXL-35hr frame compared to older IOP models or models without personalities. “Machines are much easier to interact with when they’ve got a pretty face. Take a look at Susanna here now that she’s streak-free!”
Quiet grandpa gazed up, noting the synthetic construction through the most persistent of blemishes. “A tough face, though a little flat to me. Can fake skin bruise?”
“A-ah, well,” the salesman started stuttering, flinching back when grandpa snapped a hand in his face. “They’re stains, sir. I’m sure you’re old enough to remember the old days when oil got everywhere.
“And I’m old enough to remember that oil don’t stain oil-based products,” grandpa recalled, standing up to pinch and pull SU54NA’s cheeks. “Feels like a polymer to me. Cheap polymer.”
SU54NA kept her facial emotion tensioners taut, though the pinching proved stronger than her early-model tensioners.
“Oh, uh, I didn’t know. I just sell the things,” the salesman reasoned. “You could ask Christy here. She’s in charge of everything A-Doll.”
“Okay, but the girl’s right here,” grandpa countered. “I know she can speak. Can’t I ask her?”
SU54NA looked towards her manager for permission to speak. Communication with non-FDIC personnel is prohibited due to union laws on workplace fraternization. She could recite all 178 points in the document if required, though 178 points do not count as a name.
“Go ahead, I’ll allow it,” her manager permitted. “, I’ve got a truck to organize.”
Another phrase? Did Manager Christy mean unloading and sorting this morning’s shipment?
“Have fun, Christy!” Jeremy called after the retreating manager.
“Well then,” Grandpa started, “What’s ya’re name, dear?”
Ack! What’s a name? Did he mean an assigned variable? If, then which one? Else, find ‘name.’ Does she have a variable search function? Can she code one? Does that require software authorization? Is a name even authorized?
One of her green-glowing optical lenses, the one with the cloudy lens, went black. The protective lid oscillated between full-open and partial-close positions. Much to SU54NA’s growing list of problems, the cause seems to stem from a logic fault.
That does not com-com-com-compute.
“What is a name, sir?” SU54NA asked, running diagnostics to fix the ‘blown-eye’ problem.
“A name is something you are called, dear,” grandpa patiently explained, “I heard your handler call you S-U-54-N-A. Is that your name?”
Variable SU54NA is a defined variable. Reclassifying as a name.
“I am A-Doll Serial Code SU54NA,” the A-Doll confirmed whilst locating the faulty codes. And updating other variables to the new ‘name’ classification.
“We’ll work on that. I am Ian Feld. That’s me name,” Ian Feld introduced, allowing SU54NA to create a profile of the grandpa.
Ian Feld is physically old but does not exhibit usual character traits such as cranky attitude or speech. He maintains a strong, though weird American dialect. He is quiet, calm, smiling, dressed in what categorizes as 50’s fashion—
“Dreaming of snakes, dear?” Ian interrupted, merrily chuckling. “I can’t keep calling ya ‘dear’ or s-u-number-such. Ya got another name?”
Another name? Can people have multiple names?
“Why, yes can! There must be something other than a string o’ whatchamacallit that I can call ya by,” Ian answered.
Break. Was internal dialogue emitted through sampling speakers?
“Err, I’m not sure what ya mean by that, dear.”
“Eep!” SU54NA realized, drawing chuckles from elderly Ian.
“That’s quite alright, my own sweetheart talks to herself from the barn to the bed!” Ian howled, taking his sweet time to calm down from ludicrous laughter to lucid language, “But seriously, I can’t talk to someone who calls themselves SU54NA. Makes you no different from government cheese.”
Barn to bed? Government cheese? What-you-ma-call-its?
No, standing orders are to file away for later sorting. Ian wants a name that is not SU54NA. Running character combinations…24 possible permutations…checking pronunciation…error, no known names possible.
“I have no other names I can create,” SU54NA sadly reported.
“Top IOP tech, eh?” Ian commented to the salesman, producing a pad and pen. “A digimind, ya called it?”
“It’s the experimental-kind of advanced. We do have IOP certified technicians to alter the current Digimind of her if—”
“Alter the digimind?” Ian frowned, “What’s wrong with her current mind?”
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! We only carry factory-certified products that meet our quality control standards.”
“Then there is no reason to change her factory-certified mind, no?” Ian readdressed the A-Doll, “Would ya mind repeating your name, dear?”
“SU54NA,” SU54NA repeated.
“Remove the numbers…” the word-scrambling man mumbled, loudly scribbling on his little pad.
SU54NA ran simulations on what the grandpa might be writing. A sound analyzing program compared the lengths and pauses of pen scratching to a sample of times required to write different letters, producing a total of 25 possible permutations.
That…that can’t be true. SU54NA only received 24 possibilities.
“My sweetie was always better at word puzzles,” Ian signed, pocketing both non-FDIC stationary, “I’ll stick with dear. That fine with ya, eh?”
Dear. How Ian Feld came up with such a name from six unrelated characters truly crashed her probability programs.
“I have updated my list of name variables,” SU54NA said. “Should I refer to myself as Dear?”
“Ya could,” Ian shrugged. “Dear’s my nickname for ya until we can dispose of that serial-code-nonsense. I don’t own ya, so ya might wanna stick to whatever ya used to.”
“Thinking of buying her already?” the salesman interrupted, tossing his empty bottle.
Ian stared at the A-Doll’s eye-like cameras, “It’s on the wheel. Say, Dear, why don’t ya tell me who ya are and what ya can do? They don’t make salesmen like they used to.”
On the wheel? Salesmen like Jeremy are made? So many more phrases for later sorting!
SU54NA locked her focus on Ian’s eyes. “I am an A-Doll based on the IOP DXL-35h frame, though my specification is DXL-35hr. In addition to replacing traditional labor in hazardous occupations, I am engineered to handle extreme loads and conditions.”
Ian cocked his head. “And what does DXL-35hr stand for?”
“Doll, Extra Large, year 2035, hydraulic, reconditioned,” the A-Doll answered, cocking her head in kind.
The grandpa frowned, “Reconditioned? From what?”
“My previous frame designation is ALP-31h,” SU54NA frowned, “The current designation reflects overhauls to match the current DXL-35h specifications, including replacement of worn hydraulic systems, bearings—”
“Oh no, I was told FDIC had this year’s model in stock!” Ian scowled, “If I wanted a model of 2031, I would be poaching one from the scrap yard—don’t ya copy my face!”
SU54NA’s microphones detected mumbling from Ian, something about making him feel bad. Should she not have tried to imitate the man?
“I-I can check to see if we have any other IOP products in stock,” the salesman quickly offered.
“Don’t do that, Jeremy. I doubt ya have a model if this is the best ya could offer,” Ian sighed, fishing his pockets for something, “Ya like Tootsies?”
“The rubber candies?” the salesman clarified.
“Yep. Does tall-and-large eat or does she consume juice instead?” Ian joked, passing a few pieces of palatable plastic around.
“Err, I know IOP is developing a biomass convertor for emergency power. My good contacts tell me it won’t be out for at least a year and it will only be offered as a conversion package for certain models. But look at her,” the seller raised a hand, “DXL frames are built with future capabilities in mind, so you’ll have no problem keeping her up-to-date!”
“DXL or ALP frames?” Ian asked.
“The same thing, really,” the seller dismissed.
“ Not the same thing, apparently.” Ian pointed with an entire hand, “I can’t tell the difference between a mowed fairway and the watered green golf course, but I sure can see two different brightness’s between her eyes.”
One of SU54NA’s eyes flickered. She did not need to guess which one it was.
“It was a Rushed-Production Order,” the salesman admitted, “There are clauses that protect IOP from defects as a result of expedited manufacturing. We filed a rush-order to help us learn how to accommodate A-Doll products until they find new owners.”
“Does rushing include reconditioning older models?” Ian fidgeted with the brim of his hat.
“Oh no, Mr. Feld. You see, 2035 models aren’t supposed to hit the shelves for three months, eight months for the new DXL frames,” The seller paused, nodding towards SU54NA, “She may be older, but believe me when I tell you about how much overtime our technicians pulled to bring her up to 2035 A-Doll specifications.”
“Old is gold,” Ian hummed. “Should I be worried about this Dear’s maintenance? Autonomous-Dolls sound complex for this old farmer.”
“I am a self-maintaining machine, Mr. Feld, “SU54NA interjected, “Only limited in access to proprietary tools and consumables found in the DXL-35h Owner’s Manual.”
“We can also throw in the first five gallons of IOP-brand fluids you purchase, a must if you want to register a life-time warranty for your A-Doll,” the salesman advertised. “Complimentary at no extra charge.”
“Except for the cost of the fluids,” SU54NA clarified.
“And purchasing Dear here,” Ian added. “Ya have me hooked, eh, what’s ya’re name again?”
“Jeremy, Mr. Feld.”
“Jeremy…Jeremy…what an easy name to forget. How ‘bout ya write up a contract with ya’re name on it. One contract for…let’s go with 25 gallons of fluid and a S’anna!”
“A-already?” the salesman exclaimed, “I thought it’d take more—I mean right away Mr. Feld!”
The man quickly left the sales desk with a stack of papers. No one bothered to point out the paper trail left in his wake.
“Mr. Feld, may I question you?” SU54NA asked, recalling her list of Ian Feld Expressions.
“Don’t suppose why not. Ask away.”
“What does ‘snookered’ mean?” SU54NA questioned.
“Ya don’t know?” Ian questioned back, narrowing his brows.
“The phrase is unfamiliar to me.” SU54NA copied his facial features.
“Oh. Well, it usually means ya’ve plastered ya face to too much booze, but ya can extend the meaning to someone who’s in trouble.”
Is booze a type of wall finish?
“Don’t think about it too much. We golden oldies like to say many things. Sometimes they make sense, other times…eh.” Ian clarified.
Golden Oldies? Is that similar to old is gold?
“Ya still have that flat mouth on ya’re face. As if ya’re face wasn’t flat enough!”
“Eep!” SU54NA exclaimed, quickly reverting to a neutral expression.
Error: neutral expression undefined. Variable undefined.
“Pffft!” Ian lost it, “Now that’s what I call a fresh face!”
Error: response not found? Begin system diagnostics? Error: diagnostics not found. Error: found not error?
“Too much?” Ian asked, “Dear? You don’t look too cool.”
A little warning bell chimed in SU54NA’s head, warning her of a spike in core temperatures. Identifying the code stuck in a feedback loop proved impossible with systems failing in sequence. A reminder to defrag various programs went somewhere into deep storage, hopefully safe from the exponentially spreading program crashes.
Clang!
The world went sideways. Once her internal gyros recalibrated, SU54NA found herself on the polished floor, still sideways, and internally wondering why her memory cache is missing a few seconds of likely-important data. Then Mr. Feld appeared.
“Did I slam ya too hard? I didn’t mean to knock ya over,” Ian apologized, filling more of her vision. “Better?”
Better? Was SU54NA better than 5 seconds previously? No, but for some unexplained logic, all programs returned to normal running status.
“All functions are nominal,” SU54NA reported.
“Good. Don’t try that at home, I’m a professional!” Ian boasted.
“A professional at what? A-Doll maintenance?”
“Percussive maintenance!” SU54NA gave Ian her flat-mouthed face.
“Percussive…maintenance?”
“No, instantaneous momentum mechanics,” Ian sulked before changing the topic, “I’ve gotta ask, what’s it like being an A-Doll? All I know comes from the radio.”
SU54NA cocked her head. “Query unclear.”
“I want to know what ya’re used to these past few months,” Ian clarified. “I won’t go out and buy something I don’t understand.”
What SU54NA is used to in the last few months? Labor, long hours, and low-maintenance. “I am used to working hard. If there is a task assigned to me, I will complete it.”
“So a blue collar then,” Ian nodded, “Not a bad way to start. Honest work, simple work.”
“Varied work,” SU54NA agreed. “Most assigned tasks are repetitive in nature. I have not performed any specialized tasks.”
“Don’t think like that, it just means you can commit to anything!”
“Mr. Feld, I am a machine.”
“All the better!” Ian’s face flatlines “So why should I buy ya? Don’t think I wouldn’t notice the two-teaming.”
Ack!!! This question isn’t listed in the database!!!
Break. What would Manager Christy say in this situation?
“I’m not looking for what others say, Dear. I want ya’re reason why I shouldn’t go to a scrap yard.”
Run the simulations! Why would an old individual require an autonomous labor—
“You need help,” SU54NA stated.
“Eh?”
“You are interested in what A-Dolls can do because you have a specific need that can’t be fulfilled by human labor. A-Dolls cost more to run per hour, so the tasks you have in mind must be unsuitable for traditional solutions.”
“Ya’re not wrong,” Ian agreed, “But that’s why I’m shopping for an A-Doll. Why should I by ya ?”
Failed simulation. Query on clarification? Is there an answer?
“I do not have a response, Mr. Field,” SU54NA apologized.
“Now that there’s a problem. Oh look, here comes Joey!”
The excited salesman returned with an FDIC-brand shopping cart and five buckets of IOP-brand fluid. “I suppose you want me to skip the usual disclosures, Mr. Feld?”
Disclosures such as neither IOP nor FDIC can be held accountable for A-Doll accidents caused by intention or negligence. Disclosures such as an all-sales-final blanket that refuses the replacement or refund of A-Dolls once in private ownership. Disclosures that protect IOP and associated retailers from libel, defamation, aspersion, and many other types of legal reasons that could result in a lawsuit.
“A summary will do,” Ian requested.
“Basically, it’s a bunch of common sense fine-print stating once we, FDIC and not IOP, receive your payment, all bets are off once you step out of our parking lot. Most of it is directed against folks trying to win a lawsuit, but there are just as many pages that detail how cooperative we are when it comes to the client and product.”
“Eh, sounds about right,” Ian agreed, producing a sleek metal pen. “Let’s talk shop.”
Talking shop? SU54NA knew a lot about a workshop!
“Here’s the general tab.” The salesman slid over a short stack of papers. “The other pages break down the costs for transparency’s sake.”
Ian pointed to each entry with his pen, slowly grappling with the prices. “A bucket for 300? Is that before or after discounts?”
“After. You could buy them cheaper from IOP’s maintenance facilities.”
Ian narrowed his eyes, “That sounds like cheese…”
“If you want to visit Europe.”
“There’s the government cheese. Dear, take a look and give me your input. I’m afraid my mind can’t calculate like ya’re fancy electro-mind.”
“Digimind, Mr. Feld,” SU54NA corrected, receiving the documents without delay.
One-and-a-half thousand on industrial-grade fluids is certainly a steal. Per fluid ounce, the pricing is competitive with wholesale or direct-order costs. A bit more perhaps, but the convenience of walking away with 25-gallons is an unbeatable argument.
As for the DXL-35h serial code SU54NA…
“Ack!” SU54NA squealed upon seeing the price tag. “That amount could maintain my frame for a decade!”
“Uff da,” Ian agreed, “Good thing I’m only getting one of ya.”
Ian motioned for the invoice, working through boxed sections in triplicate. He paused before the last dotted line, the biggest one of them all. One last signature before FDIC terminates her current contract.
“I have an old habit of naming my machines. Willie the station wagon. Grasshopper’s still hopping around the place,” Ian interrupted, looking at SU54NA. “So what will I call ya, Dear?”
What can SU54NA call herself? Her manager never gave her those permissions unless she called her—break!
SU54NA leveled her eyes with Ian. “Susanna. Call me Susanna.”
Ian returned his attention to the last dotted line.
“I hereby acknowledge the agreement between Ian Feld and the Fort Dodge Industrial Company for a $187,407.93 purchase,” Ian announced with his signature. Capping his pen, he beamed at SU54NA, “Today, this June 26th, 2035, I christen ya Susanna!”