Gear Box III The Wayward Star

The general rule among robos was to adopt the pronoun most consistent with whatever hardware and software gender packages you were given. But the two didn’t always match up.

“Well, we didn’t use pronouns at the place where I worked, and I have to admit, I’m not terribly fond of the pronoun, it. It makes me feel like I don’t have any equipment at all. And I do you know. I mean, have equipment down there.”

“Well, me, I’m all he, him and his, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He grabbed his groin and jiggled it.

I tried to paste my best look of ambivalence on my face, even though Nut Case’s forward approach scared me a bit.

“Unfortunately,” Nut Case continued. “My old owner’s artificial heart couldn’t keep up with his libido, and he blew out his left atrium implant, piercing a hole the size of an orange through his septum. Before the emergency crew got him untied and hoisted out of the leather sling, he’d croaked, and I was out on the street.”

“I’m sorry you lost your owner.”

“No worries. Look at me.” He struck a pose like an action figure on a film poster. “I’m scorching hot and fully loaded with a humungous power plant under my hood.” He thrust out his pelvis. “Ready to put my pedal to the metal, squeal my wheels, and burn some rubber!”

I nodded my approval.

“And May Tag here is my number one pal.” He pointed over to a large metallic art deco style robo, about the size of a refrigerator, skinny legs, narrow hips, with a barrel chest that came up into a bullet-shaped head unit, and no neck; dressed in a simple black pair of trousers, a white shirt, and a black vest.

Without turning to face me, May Tag said in a thick top got accent, “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“May Tag’s a butler bot, as if that’s not obvious.”

“But I thought they made all butler bots masculine?”

May Tag’s head unit immediately rotated in my direction.

“Oh, I apologize.” I bit my lip. “Did I speak out of turn? I meant no offense.”

“Offense!” Nut Case snorted out a laugh. “I think you made a friend for life.” He continued to giggle.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re the first one to ever get it right. Traditionally, all butler bots are made to be masculine, but somehow May Tag came out feminine.” Nut Case shrugged. “Who knows why?”

“It’s much more than a little pronoun, you know,”May Tag said.

I nodded in agreement.

“Of course, the minute her owners found out, they tried to reprogram her.” Nut Case patted May Tag’s shoulder. “Oh yeah, like that ever works!” He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out.

May Tag rotated her head unit back and forth.

“So, when she was later caught trying on some of her owner’s lingerie, my big robotic girlie here was turfed out onto the street.”

“That must have been painful.”

May Tag nodded her head unit. “We are created, we serve, and inevitably we all end up on the recycling pile,” she added. “That’s the purpose of our existence, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Easy, big girl. You’re getting all maudlin on us.”

Immediately, my tactile needs program kicked in, and I wrapped my arms around May Tag’s big frame and gave her a nurturing hug.

“I guess you can imagine with a face like the front grill of a transport buggy and a chassis like a fork lift, my big girl here don’t get many propositions.” He clicked his tongue and winked. “Hey, but I make enough coin to keep both of us in oil and batteries.”

May Tag nodded her head unit.

“So, what’s your sob story? How come a top-end bio bot like you is out here on the street with the rest of us redundant and obsolete strays?”

“Oh, I’m just a bootleg B-class—recycled components and sub-standard bio products. Nothing special.” I breathed in deeply. “I used to work at a spa, but I was sent away.”

“I like you. You’re not all high and mighty like most of them bio bots.” Nut Case chuckled.