Pretty Electric

Disclaimer: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing is copyrighted to Bandai, Sunrise, and The Sotsu Agency.

Pretty Electric
by Raletha

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Chapter 1: Delivery
Where Quatre first makes the acquaintance of his Personal Android.

Three weeks, that was how long I had to wait for the completion of my Personal Android. I was surprised that they could build something so complex so quickly, but as Catherine had explained to me it was one of the advantages of using AI\'s to design an AI.

I couldn\'t help but be amused by this: humans had created intelligent machines, which were in turn, capable of creating even more intelligent machines—with architectures and algorithms beyond our explicit capability to design ourselves. It was like the blind leading the blind; only I wasn\'t certain who was leading whom.

Three weeks, it certainly wasn\'t a long time, but it dragged by at a most glacial pace. All of the routine activities of my life became slow drudgery, and long meetings at the office left me feeling as if my head would explode were I forced to endure them for another minute. Of course my head stayed intact, but I would divert myself from such proceedings by imagining the panic an unexpected head explosion would provoke. However, I was certain that Martin Gallagher, my Vice President of Marketing, would merely sneer at the mess my brain matter left on his suit.

The best diversions during this time were the progress reports I received from ARI. My Personal Android was on schedule; its neural net was responding well to initial training algorithms; and its language skills were integrating well with its knowledge base. Along with each progress report would come an invitation to visit the lab and see the PA under development. I was tempted, but I never went.

Despite my daily frustrations, something new was in my life: something fragile and glorious that I hadn\'t experienced for a very long while. As I lay in bed each night over the course of my three-week wait, I would toss and turn and get little sleep. But this wasn\'t an unpleasant insomnia. The thoughts that filled my mind were the thoughts of curious anticipation. What would it be like? How would it look? My mind would wander back to my meeting with Catherine Bloom, all the pictures she had shown me, and my responses to them.

I remembered her sketches and the things she had seemed to take note of, and in my head I began to construct my PA in the full knowledge that it probably would little resemble my imaginings. In fact, I counted on it. Lying in the darkness every night I imagined, and I tried to predict.

During the day, I would chase such ridiculous thoughts from my head. The PA was nothing more than a curiosity—and a perverse one at that. I doubted that I would have much use for it unless it was also programmed to do household chores. Perhaps it would be able to cook? That would save me the hassle of finding a new personal chef.

And now it had been twenty-two days since Duo had given me the envelope; the delivery was scheduled for one o\'clock. In the hope of distracting myself from the imminent arrival of my PA, I had invited my friend around for brunch.

He arrived twelve minutes past 10:30 brandishing a grin and a bottle of champagne. \"Is that for brunch?\" I asked Duo, ushering him inside. \"Or am I meant to christen the PA with it?\"

\"Have you written your speech yet?\"

I put the champagne in the fridge and made us espresso.

\"So what is for brunch?\" Duo asked.

\"Guess,\" I said passing him his coffee from the kitchen as he seated himself at the bar.

\"Hmm, based on past experience, there can be only one answer.\"

I laughed as I whisked the eggs.

Duo watched me silently for a time as I chopped up leftover potatoes, sautéed spinach with garlic, and crumbled the feta cheese. \"I can still remember the first time you made me an omelet,\" he said.

\"I wish you wouldn\'t,\" I said.

\"Well, calling what you made an omelet is being generous, but it wasn\'t that bad.\"

I rolled my eyes. \"It was bad enough that I didn\'t try again for years.\"

\"You always were the worst cook of the three of us. I\'m surprised we didn\'t suffer from malnutrition while we were flatting together.\"

\"At least I cooked.\"

\"You didn\'t cook, you ordered delivery Chinese.\"

\"That counts.\" I poured half of the egg mixture into the pan, tilting it so that the entire base of the pan was covered. \"Have you heard from Hilde recently? How\'s she doing?\"

\"Yeah, I got vid-mail from her last week. She\'s doing well—seems happy enough on Luna 2, and enjoys the work. She\'s thrilled to be off planet finally.\"

\"Oh, I\'m glad,\" I said. \"She\'s worked hard enough for it.\"

\"She said she likes working in zero-G. Makes her monstrosity easier to handle.\"

\"I can imagine.\" I smiled at the thought of Hilde, petite and fearless, piloting one of the huge colony construction drones.

\"Yeah,\" Duo said and sighed. I glanced at my friend to catch the remnants of a nostalgic smile melting from his face.

\"So,\" I began anew. \"How\'s... um, Heero?\"

\"Oh, he\'s fine. Odd, but fine. He\'s developed an extremely sarcastic sense of humour recently, can you believe?\"

\"It has a sense of humour?\"

\"Yes, he does.\"

\"Sorry, yes, he,\" I corrected myself. \"That\'s surprising, isn\'t it? A sense of humour?\"

\"I don\'t know. I was surprised, but then the PA\'s do learn a lot and change accordingly.\"

\"Do you, um....\" With a flip of my wrist I turned Duo\'s omelet. \"What else do you do with him aside from...\"

\"Sex?\" Duo cut into my pause. \"I talk to him, you know. He\'s a good listener, I\'m a good talker. I\'m teaching him how to build models too.\" Duo fidgeted with his empty demitasse cup, turning it in slow circles upon its saucer. \"I figured all the hundreds of unbuilt ones lurking in my spare room could keep him occupied. He\'s very thorough. Great attention to detail.\"

\"He\'s building your models?\"

\"Yeah, I know, I know—I never let anyone touch my models, but I just...\" Duo sighed, abandoning his toying with the cup. \"I never have time for all the fun stuff I want to do anymore. Being the boss sucks.\"

\"I did warn you about that.\" I plated the second omelet. \"It\'s ready, shall we move to the dining room?\"

\"Sure.\" Duo followed me to the table. \"I know you warned me. But what about you? Any more thoughts or plans for an early retirement?\"

I shook my head, and we sat. \"I haven\'t been able to fit it into my schedule yet. Ironic, isn\'t it? Since these days I feel like more of a figurehead than a CEO...\"

\"You\'re still the boss, don\'t sell yourself short. WE wouldn\'t be half of what it is if not for your efforts.\"

\"Maybe.\" I shrugged as I ground a generous scattering of pepper over my meal. \"Even so I\'m not feeling that challenged any longer. Winner Enterprises practically runs itself nowadays.\"

\"No, you\'re just good at delegating. Your father never mastered that, just because you have doesn\'t mean your role is dispensable.\"

\"It\'s not just that, Duo. I\'m bored.\"

\"I know you\'re bored. God, you\'ve been moping around enough lately.\" Duo lifted a fork-full of omelet to his nose and sniffed cautiously before deeming it edible. \"Why don\'t you diversify your holdings more? New acquisitions always seem to excite you.\"

\"Not so much anymore.\" With a sigh, I let my right wrist fall to the edge of the table and stared at my knife before looking back up at my friend. \"Anyway, you\'re the one with the penchant for new toys. I\'m not feeling very playful or ambitious these days.\"

\"Time for a new risk?\"

\"I\'m bored with business risks, Duo. I\'ve gotten too good at this game. The risks I take now don\'t feel that risky any longer. The excitement, the adrenaline is gone.\"

\"I wasn\'t talking about a business risk.\"

Our conversation waned after that; it was territory we\'d covered many times before. Duo felt I was too conservative, too staid in the way I lived my life. Conversely, I felt he was—at times—too intrusive into my personal space.

However, our camaraderie did not remain stilted for long. After we\'d cleared away the dishes from our meal, we retired to the living room to engage in a favourite pastime: heckling the talking heads of the weekend political shows.


One o\'clock came and went.

Despite my continuing insistence to the contrary, I was now agitated. I paced; I fidgeted; I drove Duo to herbal tea. Not for himself—he hates the stuff—but for me.

\"Do you actually drink this crap, or do you just collect it for the pretty boxes?\" he asked from where he was arse up in the kitchen rummaging through the tea shelf of my pantry.

\"I like the pretty boxes,\" I said, flopping down on my loveseat and glaring at the wall clock. \"They\'re over half an hour late.\"

\"They\'ll be here. It\'s Saturday, Q. Relax. It\'s not like you have anything better to do.\"

\"I hate waiting. It\'s the most inefficient and useless way to spend time imaginable.\"

\"For the head of such a successful corporation, you haven\'t cultivated much patience, you know.\"

\"I am not impatient. I hate waiting. It\'s not the same thing.\"

\"Whatever you say,\" he said in his most placating tone before standing up and addressing me over the breakfast bar. \"What in God\'s name are rosehips and why would anyone drink such things?\"

\"Just make some more coffee.\"

\"Yeah, sure, you need more caffeine like a hole in the head.\"

I opened my mouth to retort, but stopped as my door chime rang. I leapt to my feet and fairly pounced on the intercom, \"Hello?\"

Catherine Bloom\'s voice came through the light static, distinctive and cheerful, \"Mister Winner, we have a delivery for you!\"

\"Miss Bloom?\" I\'d not expected her to accompany the arrival of my PA. She had led me to believe that her role ended with the surface detailing of my android. The surprise was a pleasant one. \"Please, come up.\" I buzzed her in.

I turned to Duo who stood with a box of chamomile tea in one hand, ginseng in the other. \"It\'s here,\" I said. Presently, Catherine, accompanied by a burly fellow wheeling a large plastic crate, breezed into my home.

Catherine greeted me with a fleeting hug, and waved away my attempt to introduce her to Duo. \"Oh, I know Mr. Maxwell,\" she said with a wink aimed at Duo. \"I designed Heero as well.\"

\"Hey, Cathy,\" Duo said, embracing her and kissing her cheek.

Turning away from them, I fidgeted and watched the man maneuvering the crate to a clear area of my living room. Whether I was more nervous about him dislodging a fragile objet d\'art, the possibility of his hand-truck scratching the hardwood floor, or of my imminent encounter with my Personal Android, I did not know. One of these anxieties prompted me to leave Duo and Catherine chatting in the foyer while I offered assistance to the man with the crate.

\"Nah, I\'m all right,\" he said after a quick evaluation of my slim frame and fine clothes.

\"Now, Mr. Winner.\" Catherine\'s voice drew near. \"I have some delivery forms for you to sign, and some information to give you about how to care for Trowa.\"

\"Trowa?\"

\"Yes,\" she said with a nod of her head that sent her red curls dancing. \"Your Personal Android, that\'s his name.\"

Caught between listening to Catherine and watching the delivery man begin taking apart the PA\'s, no, Trowa\'s crate, I settled on Catherine, with surreptitious glances in the direction of the soon to be unveiled PA.

\"He doesn\'t require that much physical care, he can take care of his own hygiene and energy levels,\" she said as I signed the delivery papers. \"Right now the most important thing for you to know is that, while Trowa has a lot of knowledge, he has no experience, and so for the first two weeks, his learning algorithms are set at a much higher rate than what he\'ll usually operate at.\"

\"You mean it\'s very impressionable right now?\"

\"Yes, he\'ll be very curious, and you\'ll need to be patient with him for best results. He\'ll be learning how to respond to you and your needs.\"

\"It\'s... he\'s not already programmed with those sort of behavioural elements?\"

\"Well, yes, he has initial biases for determining his core behaviours and a preset knowledge base drawn from the data we collected from you, but that\'s all very static. To interact with you well and develop his personality, he has to learn.\"

\"So what do I do?\" The crate had come apart into several sections and the android, which was facing away from me, was seated on a strange cubic sort of chair. All I could see was the top of the back of its head. It didn\'t move.

\"Be yourself, and be patient. He might make mistakes, and you\'ll need to let him know when he does.\" Catherine laid a neatly manicured hand on my forearm. \"Also be sure to tell him when he\'s doing well—to reinforce those behaviours. It\'s very important for him to get feedback and evaluation from you.\"

\"It sounds like training a dog.\" I grimaced. I preferred cats.

\"No, it\'s not like that at all.\" Catherine grinned. \"Think of his mental state as more childlike—like a very smart and knowledgeable child. He has very complex thought mechanisms and communication skills, but little wisdom for processing his world. You have to help him develop that wisdom.\"

\"I think I understand.\"

\"It\'s not so tough, Q,\" Duo said, breaking into the conversation. \"In fact it\'s a real rush watching them learn and adapt. I bet you won\'t get much sleep this weekend.\"

I blinked at Duo; he winked, and I cleared my throat before returning my attention to Catherine.

\"Now, to activate him, you say \'Hello\' and then his name.\" Catherine took me by the elbow, drawing me toward the android. My feet resisted following and we stopped short. \"If you want to turn him off—put him into stand-by mode, you say \'Standby\' and then his name. Those are the only voice commands associated with him, and only your voice will trigger either activation or shut down.\"

\"All right,\" I said.

\"Aren\'t you curious to see him?\" she asked, observing my sudden reluctance.

\"I am. But I...\" I shrugged. It seemed ridiculous to suddenly want to kick my guests out of my home so I could get my first look at the PA alone, but I found myself feeling a sharp stab of selfish desire to do just that.

\"You\'d prefer privacy?\" Catherine asked cautiously.

\"Yes, I would, my apologies for being a poor host.\"

\"No need to apologise, Mr. Winner. Many people prefer to take their time, do these things at their own pace.\" We turned and made our way back to the foyer where the deliveryman waited by the door. Duo hung back casting curious looks over his shoulder.

Catherine continued with a rueful smile, \"You\'ll have to excuse my impatience. Trowa is, I believe, my best work to date. I hope that you\'ll find him pleasing enough.\"

\"I\'m sure I will, and please, Miss Bloom, call me Quatre.\" We reached the door.

\"Then call me Cathy, Quatre,\" she said. The deliveryman opened the door and carried the leftover packaging to the elevator.

\"Thank you, Cathy. I appreciate your coming.\"

\"I don\'t usually, but this time, I really did want to. You still have my contact information, don\'t you?\"

\"Yes, of course.\"

\"Oh, here, before I forget.\" She rummaged in her shoulder bag for a moment, pulled out a data disc, and handed it to me. \"Here\'s Trowa\'s... I\'d guess you\'d call it a manual. If you have any problems, or questions, don\'t hesitate to call me directly,\" she said. \"Nice to see you again, Duo.\"

\"You too, Cathy.\" He glanced between Catherine and me, and then stepped to the door himself. \"Why don\'t I walk you to your car? I can tell you about Heero\'s latest developments.\"

\"I\'d like that!\" she replied with an enthusiastic bob of her head.

\"Okay, well, Q, I\'ll catch up with you later.\" Duo gave me a loose hug. \"Don\'t do anything I wouldn\'t do.\"

\"Don\'t worry.\" I said, and they exited to the hall.

\"I don\'t,\" Duo called back with a parting wave.


And so I was alone—at least for the moment. My stomach trembled as I turned away from the door and moved back into my living room. Halting steps took me closer to the android. Slowly, I circled it reminding myself that oxygen was a necessary thing and therefore to keep breathing. Despite my best intentions, not only had my curiosity morphed into apprehension, but I was also feeling the beginnings of sexual arousal. A pleasant, giddy warmth had blossomed in my loins, one which I was at pains to ignore. It was a peculiar sensation resulting from my anticipation, I was sure, but the android, as my path revealed it to me, was certainly beautiful.

My eyes devoured its form, not knowing where to linger, or where to look first. Even though it was seated, my first impression was that of height. Long slender limbs draped over the plastic chair-cube suggesting, not just height, but also grace in their arrangement. Its shoulders were broad—but not hulking—and its waist and hips were slim, giving the appearance of fine-boned strength.

The PA had been dressed in a deftly tailored black suit with a Nehru style jacket. It provided a pleasant contrast with the pale caramel colour of its skin, skin which appeared smooth as satin, with a nearly imperceptible sheen to it, distinctly dissimilar from human skin. I bent closer wondering if they\'d given the android either body hair or pores. Neither was visible on its face (except for the fine, arched eyebrows, of course). And, oh, that face—what a masterpiece of refinement it was with its high cheekbones, aristocratic nose, and strong tapered jaw. Its lips had a delicate seductive curve to them, as if begging to be put to use in the most decadent fashion.

I stopped that thought immediately, and turned my attention to its hair. It was arranged in an odd asymmetric style that resembled nothing for which I had expressed a preference: short in the back with longish, gravity defying bangs partially veiling its face. I wondered what colour its eyes would be when they opened. Its hair color was a rich brunet that reflected copper where the light hit it. Tentatively I reached out and brushed the edge of its fringe with my fingertips. Soft and flexible, the strands bent under my touch but sprang back into their improbable style when I withdrew my hand.

Suddenly I was consumed with the desire—no need—to touch, to explore. My fingers moved from its hair to its cheek. The skin was even softer, smoother than it had appeared, and delightfully pliable, giving the feel of actual flesh over bone. It was warm too, as if blood flowed beneath its surface. My curiosity prompted my fingers to journey to the collar of its jacket. Unbuttoning the top few buttons, I slid my fingers along the side of its throat, seeking a pulse. There was none.

I frowned in dismay. The illusion was so powerful otherwise. Hastily, I unbuttoned the rest of the jacket so I could lay my palm over where a heart would be. Nothing. I stepped back, pulling open its jacket to reveal the sculpted contours of the android\'s chest and abdomen. The PA\'s torso was hairless and smooth, its silky skin called to my touch, but I resisted. My eyes slid to the buckle of its belt.

And abruptly I felt excruciatingly self-conscious—as if a dozen pairs of judging eyes were watching me. What was I thinking? I hadn\'t even activated the damned thing. At any rate, I wasn\'t intending to indulge myself with a machine. Feeling the burn of shame in my cheeks I refastened the buttons of its jacket, smoothing the fabric so that it lay flat and neat across its chest.

I backed away from the android and turned. A few steps took me away from it and closer to my study. But something halted my next step. Duo\'s earlier words returned to me: I wasn\'t talking about a business risk.

I turned back, feeling as if my heart would burst from my chest. I approached the android and fell to one knee before it. I cleared my throat, and I spoke.

\"Hello, Trowa.\"


...