To Be a Woman (5 page)

“It was easy. Standard fare. They never realized my nature, so I never had to lie.”

“Did they do anything I wouldn't do?”

“Plenty.” I told him in detail, and he evidently relished it, and I relished his relish. It seemed there was a voyeur part of his nature. He had never tried fellatio or anal sex with me. I suspected he would in future.

“Uh--”

I smiled. “Of course. We're engaged.” I hoisted my skirt as he drew down his trousers, fitted my bared backside to him as he sat on the car seat, took in his turgid member, flexed my buttocks, and felt him erupt. I did not bother faking passion for him; this was merely easing his urgency and required no other justification. Again: men are easy, and this was the one man I truly wanted to oblige. So I did feel a kind of passion, even without invoking the orgasm macro, that expressed itself in my immediate gratification of his need.

Then we got down to business. “We have enough money for the night, but will need more to travel,” he said. “Do you think--?”

“I am ready.”

We rented a unit, and kept an eye out for other travelers. Soon I joined another man in his room for quick sex followed by innocuous dialogue; it turned out he was lonely and wanted the company almost as much as the sex. All I had to do was nod understandingly and agree with his views on anything. My new awareness facilitated this; I had some empathy. He didn't mind that I was another man's girl; in fact that meant that there would be no further commitment, as he preferred. Again, he had no idea I was a machine.

There were others. I am a quite attractive figure of a woman, regardless of my hairdo, and men everywhere are chronically hungry for sex.

There was a knock on our door. It was a woman. Was she soliciting for her husband? No, it turned out that she was interested for herself. “I understand you need money,” she said to Banner. “Your girl has been accommodating men. Does that apply to you too? I'm awake alone tonight and horny.”

Banner, astonished, was silent. Obviously it had never occurred to him that there might be a demand for him too.

“Yes,” I said. “He will go with you for an hour, for the price.”

“Here will do. My husband's asleep.” The woman paid the money and stepped inside.

I sat quietly and watched them strip and clasp. The woman was older, her figure deteriorating, but Banner rose to the occasion, kissing her, fondling her heavy breasts, licking her vulva and, when she was thoroughly worked up, penetrating her and climaxing, doing his best to bring her off too. He was successful; she had a long, labored, but clearly satisfying orgasm. I found that I was not jealous, knowing that Banner was performing only because I had in effect asked him to. Sauce for the goose. Yet I felt a lack; I should have been at least a little disturbed to see him performing with another woman, however justified. I would have to work on that.

“Thank you,” the woman said as she cleaned up and dressed. “I wish you were my husband. He is never as thoughtful as you are. I seldom come, with him.”

“My fiance would never let me go,” Banner said, with a pretense of regret.

“Indeed.” She departed, not fooled about his feigned interest in her, but satisfied. So was I; not only was it more money, it was a kind of vindication of the way I had feigned interest in the men. I had done it right.

By morning we had plenty of money to travel on. We had breakfast at the nearby restaurant, I contenting myself only with water. I did not need to explain to anyone; it was obvious that with a figure like mine, I had to diet rigidly. Some of our nocturnal clients were there, including the woman and her husband. Naturally nobody said a word. That is part of the code. But there were some covert glances.

We got gasoline and still had cash to spare. So far there was no sign of pursuit. Probably Femdroid, Inc., did not want the publicity of an errant or lost unit. But the search was surely on.

“I need an aspirin,” Banner said as he drove. “Getting a headache.”

He was human; this abrupt change in his circumstance distressed him. I found aspirin in the car. “Here is one.”

“But I need a cup of water with it, so it won't burn a hole in my stomach.”

“Best not to stop,” I said. “We should continue driving randomly away from town.”

“But--”

“I have water.” I got the cup, lifted my skirt, drew aside my panties, and put the cup to my groin.

“What are you doing?”

“I am expelling some of the water I drank this morning.”

“You're urinating!”

“Yes, in my fashion. But it is quite clean.” I jetted into the cup, while he seemed to be in danger of losing control of the car. “Eyes on the road, for safety,” I said, and he obeyed. But his breath was fast and shallow, and I liked having that effect on him. I filled the container, dropped my skirt back into place, and handed the cup him.

“It's warm!”

“Yes. My body heated it.”

He shut up and took the aspirin, drinking the water. “It doesn't taste like pee,” he said.

“Real urine would be difficult for me to manage.”

He had to laugh. “Seeing you pissing into that cup like that--”

“Not here,” I said. I had of course known it would come to this from the moment he saw me pee. “There is too much traffic. Pull off onto a secluded street and park.”

He did so, and had at me again in the car. It confirmed that the sight of my urinating had fiercely turned him on. That was a sexual variant I had not encountered before, because my memory bank lacked it. There were of course more sexual forms than could be conveniently covered. That could be useful to know, but I would try not to do it again while he was driving.

“I just thought,” he said. “The car is traceable. They could have an APB out on it.”

“Then we must leave the car here,” I said. “But how can we travel? Walking will be slow.”

“We'll hitchhike,” he decided. “You should be able to attract a ride.”

We left the car and walked back to the highway. “Put out your thumb,” Banner said. “I will stand close behind so they know we're a pair.”

It did not take long for a car to stop. The driver was a single man. “Sit next to him,” Banner murmured. “Keep him interested.”

I got in first, sitting close to the man. “Thank you so much,” I said. “Our car stopped and we had to leave it.” This was not the whole truth, but he was a stranger, so it sufficed. “Are you going far?”

“That depends on how far you want to go.” The man could see into my open shirt, by no coincidence. The view of the partial curvature of the breasts is disproportionately evocative for the average man, sometimes more so than the sight of fully bared breasts, because it seems illicit. Sneak peeks are high on the standard list of attractions.

I smiled. “We would be very grateful for a ride to the state line.”

He was interested. “That's a bit out of my way.”

I took his right hand and set it on my thigh. “Extremely grateful.”

“But your man--”

“Will serve as lookout,” Banner said. “I appreciate the ride too.”

The man took us to the state line. He pulled onto an obscure side street. Banner got out and watched for intruders. I drew up my shirt and skirt, took the man's hands, and stroked myself with them. That gave him a burgeoning erection. Then I sat on him in the manner I had with Banner, set his hands on my breasts, got him into me, and in a moment had him eagerly spurting. The whole thing was accomplished in about three minutes. Did I mention that men are easy?

“We do appreciate the ride,” I said as he subsided.

“Yeah!” he agreed blissfully.

“We apologize for taking you out of your way.”

The man laughed. “Any time, lady.” Then we separated, put ourselves back together, and he drove back the way he had come, visibly satisfied.

“Time for the next ride,” Banner said. “But--”

“Of course.” I guided him into the shadowed alcove of a large tree trunk and had him do me standing up. He was evidently turned on when I had sex with another man in his presence, as many men in my memory banks are, and I was always glad to have his attention.

Then we resumed hitchhiking.

The next car that stopped was driven by a lone woman. Banner was clearly surprised. “Women don't usually pick up hitchhikers; some of them are rapists.”

But a ride was a ride, and we got in. “Now I'm not saying anything directly,” the woman said as she got into traffic. “But there was a notice on the police radio about two hitchhikers answering your description. Seem's one is a female robot the man has stolen, a valuable property. I remembered a news item about six weeks ago about a realistic humanoid robot. So I picked you up.”

We did not say anything. We didn't dare.

“Now I'm a feminist,” she continued. “I believe in women's rights. Including minority women. Including robot women. They all deserve their chance. In fact I argue law on their behalf. So I picked you up to make sure no one else did. I'll drop you off where they aren't looking. I hope that when you get where you're going, you'll remember that there are those who support you. Not that I'm implying anything.”

“Thank you,” I said faintly. Then: “I don't think he stole her. I think she went willingly. Because she loves him and wants to marry him.”

“A robot? That is surely an interesting philosophical question.”

“I think she's conscious,” I said. “That's why they want her. To take her apart. That would kill her.”

The woman glanced briefly at me. “I'll be damned.”

“Not that anyone knows,” Banner said.

“No one knows,” she agreed.

She brought us to at a busy intersection and came to a stop beside it. “Any direction from here should be okay, for now. No one else can know what road you take. Best luck.”

“Thank you,” I said. Then I leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

“I'll be damned,” she repeated. Then she had an afterthought. “Let me give you my card. Just in case I can ever be of service to you.” She gave it to me. Then she drove off, leaving us to our own devices. We knew she could have turned us in, but had chosen to help us instead.

I looked at the card. It said MAXINE STALWART—ATTORNEY.

“She's a lawyer!” Banner said. “That must be why she listens in on police broadcasts.”

“I like her,” I said.

Banner paused. “I wonder what her real interest is.”

“I doubt she's looking for sex,” I said, smiling.

“A lawyer. That gives me a crazy idea. You know we can't hide forever; they're bound to catch us sooner or later. Then we'll be finished.”

“Yes,” I agreed forlornly. I was discovering that not all the feelings of awareness were positive.

“Suppose you sue for personhood?”

“You have just stepped beyond my memory bank,” I said.

“To become a legal person. Corporations are legal persons; why not a conscious fembot?”

“Why should I want to do that?”

“Legal persons have rights. Such as marrying. Not being subject to slavery. Not being involuntarily taken apart.”

“I'm not a slave. I'm a machine!”

“You are a woman,” he said firmly. “Let's call her and ask.”

“Maybe we should,” I agreed. “Certainly if I sue, we'll need her advice.”

Banner took the card and called on his cell phone. “This is our official first contact,” he said, covering for our prior dialogue with Ms. Stalwart. “A company is after my fiancee. They want to take her apart, literally, to see what makes her tick. Can that be stopped?”

There was a brief silence. I imagined her saying “Are you serious? Of course a person can't be taken apart.”

“Even if she's a humanoid robot?”

Another pause. Then Banner described the intersection where we were, as if she didn't know. Soon her car reappeared, and we got in.

Then, before she resumed driving, I did my panel demonstration, eliminating all doubt. “I am a conscious femdroid,” I said. “They want to disassemble me to find out how I became aware. I know that will kill me, because they do not understand what happened to me and won't accept my explanation without verification. We hope that if I could be legally recognized as a person, they could not touch me, literally. Can you help?”

Maxine licked her lips, sensing that something truly newsworthy was offering. “I will be glad to try. For one thing, you will need personhood in order to marry him.”

“We were aware of that,” I said. “But thought we might fake it.”

“Not when they require a blood test or a background check.”

“You are way ahead of us,” Banner said ruefully.

We told her everything as she drove us to her small one-lawyer office. “I think it's worth the effort,” she said. “But there are fundamental issues here, and the opposition is likely to be formidable. I can't promise success, only an honest attempt. You will have to trust my judgment.”

“We do,” I said. I liked her because she had recognized us but not turned us in, earlier. Trust was vital.

Then she called Femdroid, Inc., and told them where we were. “There is, however, a complication,” she said to them. “You can not claim Elasa. Not until her lawsuit is settled.”

We were on our way.

Chapter 4:

Personhood

Things complicated amazingly quickly. Banner and Elasa were allowed to return to his home, but there was so much interest in the case that they had to hire a 24 hour guard and were under virtual house arrest. At first that didn't bother them too much, because their primary interest was in each other. They just wanted to talk, kiss, and make love. As a robot Elasa was, as they had put it, exponentially more than the ordinary machine; as a conscious woman she was exponentially more than she had been. Banner was thoroughly in love, and Elasa reveled in that love.

Maxine Stalwart did the legal preliminaries, but soon had to consult with them for guidance. “Interest in this case is burgeoning,” she said. “Femdroid Inc. plainly intends to wage a savage campaign to reclaim their property. We're going to need money, lots of it. And this gets interesting.”

Banner shook his head. “I don't have much money. I didn't even think of that when we hired you. We may not be able to afford your fee.”

“That's part of the interest,” Maxine said. “I was prepared to do it pro bono, because of my support of Elasa's right to establish her legal personhood. But the moment I started setting up, I realized that I'm already in over my head. Femdroids is ready to put millions into it. They'll be hiring lawyers of far greater caliber. We'll need equivalent legal persuasion on our side, lest we be quickly buried.”

“So we have to give up before we start?” Elasa asked.

“No. We are getting significant funding from special interest groups, like the feminists, and one I never expected: a corporate pac.”

“A what?” Banner asked.

“A group that can provide money from anonymous corporations. A lot of it. I actually wet my pants when they named a figure.”

“What interest would corporations have in this case?” Banner asked.

“They aren't saying. But my guess is that since a corporation is a legal person, and it would seriously affect their participation in the political arena if that changed, they want to maintain the status quo.”

“But Elasa isn't a corporation. She's a woman!”

“A person,” Maxine agreed. “A non-living person.”

Then he saw it. “Like a corporation.”

“Like a corporation, in that sense. If she can be confirmed as a person, that buttresses the case for corporations as persons. So they are quietly encouraging that confirmation.”

“But that's only an—an example. They shouldn't want to put a lot of money into it. They don't care about Elasa personally.”

“True. But they take the long view, and they have a great deal of money to spare. The deal is we don't question their motives, and we get all the money we need to pursue our suit, with no interference. It's a deal that puts us in serious business. Now we can hire the best attorneys, ones that can truly make Elasa's case. I will gladly yield my position to one of them.”

“No,” Elasa said.

“Elasa, I am like a popgun compared to the cannons Femdroid will hire. There are sharks in these waters. You need legal killer whales to handle them.”

“I need a lawyer I trust,” Elasa said firmly. “I need you.”

“When David meets Goliath, in real life, the smart money is on Goliath. They've got Goliath. I'm not even David. We need a seasoned warrior.”

“I want you,” Elasa said.

“I assure you, the attorney we engage can be trusted to pursue the case effectively. He will not betray your interest. I have a man in mind.”

“Hire him,” Elasa said. “To serve under your direction.”

Maxine paused. “This would be like putting a general under the command of a corporal. It's not done.”

Now Elasa considered. “Bring him here. Let me talk to him.”

“She's not much subject to mind changes,” Banner said fondly.

Maxine made just the hint of eyes rolling. “I will do that.”

Banner knew that she was doing it mainly as a ploy to get Elasa to listen to reason. But Elasa could be machine-like in her dedication to a principle. He stayed out of it.

Maxine made calls, and in due course Moncho Maverick arrived. He was a handsome middle-aged Hispanic man with a keen eye and a trim black mustache. “I am here with the expectation of taking on the case,” he announced. “But you said there was a caution.” His voice was mellow, with a subtle edge. He did have a bearing like that of a killer whale in a fishpond.

“I'll be blunt,” Maxine said. “We offer a fee matching your custom, and participation in what may be a groundbreaking case. But my client insists that I be her head lawyer, irregular as that may be.”

“Acknowledged,” he said smoothly. He looked at Elasa, who was decorously dressed, with her hair loose. She looked back at him. She smiled tremulously. She was just about as lovely and appealing as it was possible for a woman to be. “Agreed,” he said.

Maxine could not mask her surprise. “No bargaining? You didn't even talk with her.”

“We talked,” he said. “Just not in words. Your client is persuasive.”

Banner knew how that was.

“Do you want to see her demonstration?”

“Needless. I know her nature.” He crossed the room, took Elasa's hand, and kissed it. She blushed. “I will return after completing personal arrangements for my stay in this vicinity. You may settle terms with my office in the interim. We have a case to build, boss.” He departed.

“I think he's a lady killer also,” Banner said.

“He was verifying her semblance of humanity,” Maxine said. “To be sure there is a persuasive case. That's what he meant.”

“Of course,” Banner agreed, smiling.

“If it is possible to win this case, he will win it,” Maxine said. “If this were chess, he'd be a grandmaster. I am amazed and flattered to have him representing us. Not everything he does will make sense to us, but our best course is to cooperate completely. I expect to rubber stamp whatever he proposes.” She looked at Elasa. “Agreed?”

“As long as you trust him,” Elasa said.

“I trust him to chew up the sharks.” She frowned. “But understand: there are treacherous nuances, and the law is unclear. This case may not be winnable. We shall have to proceed largely on faith.”

“I just realized,” Banner said. “Maverick wants you to be a buffer between himself and Elasa. So he doesn't have to reason with her. You'll do that for him. He knew the score before he ever got here.”

“Yes. We have seen him being incidentally sociable. But he is a killer. The opposition lawyers will piss their pants when they learn he's on the case.”

“I like him,” Elasa said.

“You'll like him even better when you see him in action. Just be glad he's on our side. Now go home and relax; what will be will be.”

They went home. “I admit I am relieved,” Banner said. “I knew it would be a big case. Maxine's doing what she has to to give us our best chance.”

“I believe it,” Elasa said. “Now let's make love.”

That was of course an invitation he couldn't decline.

The next day's local newspaper's headline agreed: MONCHO MAVERICK DEFENDS FEMBOT. It went on to describe the manner in which one of the leading lawyers of the age came to town to represent the lady machine. Why? “She asked me,” Maverick was quoted. “How could I turn the lady down?”

“He refers to you as a lady,” Banner said. “Not as a machine.”

“He knows what he's doing,” she agreed.

Within hours the house was mobbed by more reporters. Elasa went out to meet them. “Yes, I asked him,” she said. “Any other details you will have to get from my attorney. Now please ignore me, or I won't be able to do my shopping.”

They got the message, and spread it. Thereafter Banner and Elasa were able to make routine excursions to town without getting mobbed. The local citizens liked having their town on the map for such a major case. They liked seeing how human Elasa looked. In fact they liked Elasa, whom many had seen around town. It was as if one of them had suddenly become famous.

There was a series of preliminary formalities leading to the trial. Maxine and Moncho spent seemingly endless time negotiating with the Femdroid lawyers on obscure matters like venue and framework, and finally hashed out a compromise: it would be phrased like a jury trial, with a judge, a jury, and direct confrontation by the opposing sides. It would be fully public, like a championship bowl game, so that the whole world could appreciate the nuances. They expected the world to be interested. There would be phenomenal publicity, whatever the decision. Both sides wanted that publicity, for their differing reasons. The feminists had taken Elasa to their heart as the ultimate symbol of their cause, and Femdroid would sell many units.

Privately, Moncho brought his daughter Mona to meet Elasa. She was a black-haired beauty with a sharp glance like that of her father and a statuesque figure. “I want you two to get to know each other,” he told them.

“There is a reason?” Banner asked. “I mean, this relates to the trial?”

“Yes.” He said no more.

“Trust him,” Maxine said. “I have no idea what he's up to, but it's bound to be devastatingly relevant.”

Mona turned out to be easy to know and to like. She had a mind like a steel trap, indeed was taking law courses so she could follow in the footsteps of her father, but was at the same time very warm spirited. She kissed Elasa when they met, and said freely that she hoped Elasa won the case, and that she, Mona, was here to help her accomplish that. But, like her father, she would not say more. Banner was impressed; if a woman like Mona had gone after him, before he got together with Elasa, she could readily have taken him. But how could she help Elasa win? It was a mystery.

“Trust Moncho,” Maxine repeated. “He thinks outside the box.”

Mona became a virtual member of the family, talking with Banner and Elasa, playing games with them, making herself useful around the house. This bothered Banner increasingly. It was not the lack of privacy; Mona was careful give the two of them necessary space. But he found himself trying to avoid her.

Elasa noticed. “Why?”

He had to tell her. “She's too attractive, physically and mentally. I'm getting drawn to her, and that's no good. I don't want my love for you impinged.”

She gazed at him, considering. “She has not flirted with you.”

“She has not,” he agreed. “She has behaved perfectly. It's all me, and I feel guilty, but it's like a gravitational pull. I need to get away from her.”

“I will talk with her.”

She did. “She likes you too,” she reported. “She wishes she had met you in some other context.”

“I'm a nobody!”

“A nobody with courage and conviction. She relates to that.”

“So she had better move out.”

“No. Not yet.”

“But--”

“There's a reason,” she said, and kissed him. Evidently she knew something. He had to be satisfied with that.

Then, seemingly suddenly, they were there. There was a judge behind his high desk. There was a twelve person jury in the jury box. Banner, Maxine, Moncho, and several other lawyers had a table in the court room across from the table for Femdroid, Inc. Video cameras were everywhere; this session was being broadcast for global consumption. This was theoretically a formal hearing, but it came across much like a trial for murder, as intended. Which, in a sense, it was, because if they lost, Elasa would perish.

Moncho led off the presentation. “We want the jury to know exactly what is at stake here,” he said with a deceptively winning smile. “My client, Elasa, is suing for personhood, that is, legal recognition that she is a person. If she loses, she will be turned over to the opposition, who will effectively demolish her. That light of consciousness and feeling that animates her will be extinguished. More bluntly, she will die.” He paused. “You may feel that a machine can't die. Technically that may be correct. But in the real sense, it is not; she possesses that same flicker of awareness that we all do, and she feels the same feelings. Yet she is adept; it's nearly impossible to know whether she is or is not a living woman; in every way that counts, she seems alive. First we want to impress upon you just how real she seems. For this purpose we have arranged a small demonstration. Are you familiar with the so-called Turing Test?”

Some jury members nodded. Other looked blank.

“Originally it was this,” Moncho said. “Two normal people were put into touch with two others, one a living person, the other a computer program. They did not see each other, but communicated only through a typing terminal. They had five minutes to determine which was which. If the computer program could fool the others into thinking it was the living person, it passed the test. They could not just blindly declare it to be the program, because they knew the other was a normal person. If they concluded the living person was the machine, that was a win for the program.”

He smiled. “It took a number of years for any program to pass that test. There are human nuances that can be difficult to fake. But machine animation has progressed considerably in the interim, and today any femdroid can pass it, even without a time limit. As you will soon see.”

He made a signal. Two lovely young women came from the audience to sit in two chairs in the center stage. Moncho gallantly held the chair for each, and each nodded appreciatively to him. Banner recognized them despite their modified appearances: they were Elasa and Mona. Now maybe he would learn how Mona related to the case.

“Who are you, if I may ask?” Moncho said.

“I am Elasa Femdroid,” Mona said.

“I am Elasa Femdroid,” Elasa said. They had been carefully coached for this. It was a kind of game, and Elasa did not have to confine herself to the truth for it. Indeed, her appearance was a lie: she was now a flaming redhead with hair to her waist, much like Mona with her black hair, and makeup that subtly changed her appearance.

“One of these women is the femdroid,” Moncho told the jury. “One is alive. This is a Turing Test, wherein you will question the subjects for an hour and come to a consensus which is which. That should not be difficult, should it? For the purpose of this interview, you may refer to them as Black and Red. Proceed.”

And Banner understood why Mona had stayed with them during the interim. She had been studying Elasa so as to be able to emulate her. She needed to fathom the little personal details that only a close friend would know.