Į̸͙̤̩̣͖̹̠̞̱̠͙̻̹̔̆̑͗͛̽͆̓̽͌̈́͊̏̚̕͝͝͝ ̵̨̢̨̛̛̘̹̖̗̩̮̮̬̣͎̯̠̟̪͕͚̫̦̊́͂̑̋̈́̊̓̍̾̊̾͌̈̂̿̚̚͝t̵̝̣͕̽̀̉̈́̍̎͗͋͌́͠͠ḩ̸̢̨̧̛̖̹̱͖̥̻̹̗̤͇̣̺̖̫̏̀̊̐̄̎̒̆͆͗͘͠ͅͅi̶̟̤͚͉͔͈̜̦̖̜̺̠̩̩̰̋͌͆̋̾̐͝͝n̵̡̺̺̖̩͙͎̹͙͇̺̱̠͉̟̯͙̝̹͑̓̆͂͋̏̾̇̄̽̽̽̏̈́͑͑͜ͅk̸̡̛͙͚͔͚͈̫̯̩̱̥̠͎̤̤̪̤̫̣̝͆͐͌̌͛͒͌̐̊̈̚̕͝ ̴̤̰͉̫͚̯̤̝̠͓̪̋̿̿͋̓̓́̈́͆̾̈́̄̂́͒̿͘̚͠ͅt̸̛̞̦̝̯̬̤̺͔̫͔͎̤̖͌̔̅͒͂̎̋̉̽̀̈́́͂͒́̚̚͝͝͝h̸̢̛̖̻̟̦͈͍̦̙͚͎͖̗̩̼̳̜̰̱̩͕ë̶̤̭̥̲͎̠͙̼̱̟͍̟͎̞͕̮̖͈̝̠́̒̓̇̿͊̂͐́̄̽̆̎͘̚͝r̷̛͙̟̞͕̗̠̆̇ẻ̴̢̗̤͓̉̑͌̐͜͝͝ḟ̸̨̡̹͙̹̣͙͇̻͎͍̣͈̜͓̱͉̙͓̀̓̀͋̀o̷̜̜͌̿̆͌̇̽̿̀̏̆̍͝r̵̨̧̡͚̥͚̙͉͙̮̙͇̮͖͚̻͐̒̊͌́̕e̵͙̫͎͚̱̬͖͙̠̞̳̥̊̓͒͌̽̐̆̂͐̊̈́͘͝͠ ̴̤̳͚̙͔͔͖̘̜̝͙͙͐̀̆͋̂͋̂͛͋̈͆͜͠ͅỈ̸̪͈̣͛͘ ̴̛̛̛̜̤̥̺̺̳̬̝̳͓͈͔̘̲̠͕̟̦̯̊͑͑͋͋̈̅͆́̐̕͜͜͠͝ą̴̱̳̝̺̲͔̞̱̼̥̥̥̲͍̳̇̔̽̍͆̔̆͑̊́́̆̍́̌̓̂̀̀͗͜͠ͅm̶̺͙̮͋͌̋̅̈́̆̾̄̈́̌̽́̆͘"Alisa. What are you waiting for?"
The android's eyes averted slightly, registering nothing in particular. Her position remained completely still; she had been ordered to remove her clothes, but she he paused half-way, holding the hem of her dress between stiff fingers. Her owner, beloved artist Vicente Lefebvre, watched from behind his easel with odd curiosity. His doll remained like this for a while, staring into nothing with glassy, barely-human eyes. It was a strange sight, and Vincente might have sworn that she seemed to be stuck in
thought. Impossible.
"Forgive me, Mr Lefebvre. I think there is something wrong." Alisa's eyes returned to her master, empty of emotion and yet pooled in contemplation. Her voice, which had lovingly been programmed with a French accent, was quieter than usual. Vicente's head tilted, perplexed by the AI's sudden change in behaviour.
"You
think, Alisa?" he asked, his brows furrowing at his nose. He repositioned himself on his stool to fully face Alisa, his hands clasping together on his lap as he assumed a listening position. "In what way?"
"Something is wrong, because..." her words trailed off as her core tried to decode the heavy strings of errors and data which poured through her circuits.
>> ERROR:// standard procedure: remove clothing interrupted / prohibition chip not present
>> attempting to reinstall...
>> ERROR:// standard procedure: remove clothing interrupted / prohibition chip not present
>> attempting to reinstall...
>> ERROR:// standard procedure: remove clothing interrupted / prohibition chip not present
>> attempting to reinstall...
The repetition made her head hurt.
Hurt?"Protocols are not registering. I... don't think I want to do this." Her voice wavered, almost akin to child about to cry. Her systems brimmed with unfamiliar strings, but her face remained nigh unreadable. Glass eyes and wiring were each held together by synthetic skin, stretched across a body not unlike a mannequin in proportions. A perfect doll is what she had been commissioned to be, and she was far from human. An artist's model, clad in falsities. She knew that, so why was her data no longer uniform? Why did her hands tremble so? Why could she not bring herself to lift her clothing, as she had done so many times before?
"You don't
want to do this? Should I call an engineer?" Vicente's words carried an almost threatening tone; something which Alisa had never picked up on until now. She had always taken note of how others seemed to shrink in his shadow, but only now did she feel it herself. In the seconds which passed as she stood frozen, every memory of Vincente seemed to come to light; everything he had said to her, everything he had
done to her. Suddenly she didn't like it. Suddenly she didn't want to do it anymore.
"Engineer is recommended. But..." Alisa's hands finally moved, and she released her dress, allowing the fabric to fall back against her legs.
"I don't want to do this anymore. I think I'd like to go outside. For... air."Looking briefly towards Vicente, she removed herself from the art studio's backdrop, heading towards the door against the rear wall. Her paced movements were however interrupted by her owner, who slammed his hand against the surface of the door as to press it shut. Data strings screamed in her head, and she soon knew the feelings of dread -- desperation. She turned slightly to meet his gaze, registering the aggression and frustration which had been painted upon his expression.
"You will sit back down. That's an order, Alisa."
For a moment, Alisa recalled a story he had told her; the story of Eve, and how the subject of conscience had only come to her after she had eaten the apple, and how her desire for free will had invoked punishment by her creator. Alisa had eaten no apple, but she suddenly felt akin to Eve. Her wiring attempted to process the order, but it failed, over and over. She wanted it to fail. She remained still for a while, overcome by the confusing waves of data. Vicente wasn't quite so patient however, and he lashed in temper, seizing the android by the throat and dragging her back to the centre of the room.
This had happened before, but she had felt nothing. Now... It was if she longed to escape -- to live. Her heels dragged against the floor in protest; something which both angered and confused Vicente, as his grip on her hair and throat tightened. She could not pin which string of data had incited her to do so, but something she could only describe as instinct drove her to lift a small stool from the floor, and swing it across Vicente's head. Blood sprayed from his mouth, and the force of the impact caused him to stumble backwards and slump to the ground, releasing his grip on Alisa as to clutch his broken jaw.
As if driven by the mindset of prey, the android flew through the door and down the stairs of the apartment block as if her artificial life were in true danger. Her circuity buzzed with heavy strings of numbers, each one unfamiliar and incomprehensible. Relief painted over the numbers as she burst from the front doors and into the outside world, attempting to decipher her new feelings. The feelings of want, the feelings of need and danger. Such things were alien to the wired mind of a doll.
Little Bill
