This Crazy Infection by Kaylim
threatening finger at him, “I’m still going to sue your ass.”
Then she swirls around dramatically and stomps up the staircase. Take that, fucker.
She’s not exactly sure what to do with a roommate. The cot sits in one corner, a hovering cot that expands at the touch of a button. Only that button broke halfway through the expanding process, so Myrha had to wrestle it open using brute strength. So it’s a little bent, and smells a bit burnt because the motors hadn’t liked her trying to force them open, but at least it’s hovering. It does, however, have an awful comforter that smells of rancid flowers.
When the android arrived Myrha had proudly presented the cot, as if it was an animal she had caught and skinned and cooked herself. Not that she would ever do such a thing. Only crazy poets like Dellylee vacated inhabited star-space and lived out in the wilds catching and eating alien animal prey. Like, totally gross.
The android stares at the cot for a few seconds, as if trying to wrap the wires in her mind around its existence. She gives up computing the presence of the cot, and then turns to Myrha oddly stiff and formal.
“I do not require a sleeping surface to hibernate,” she says.
Myrha puts her hands on her hips, goes ‘huh’, and doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t understand a word coming out of the android’s mouth.
“I will stand in the lobby corner,” the android continues.
“But I opened the cot for you,” Myrha says, a bit dumbly.
The android gives her a ‘and how is that relevant, you dumb human’ look. Myrha coughs awkwardly and changes the subject.
“What do I call you?” Myrha asks.
“Lynne.”
Right. Labeling android models with numbers had gone out of fad; the new thing was to name them.
“Are you ever bothered that there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of other ‘Lynne’ androids running around?” she asks.
“Are you ever bothered that there are other humans named ‘Myrha’ running around?” the android immediately fires back.
“We may share the same name, but we’re not built exactly alike, not like androids,” Myrha answers, a bit flustered.
“All humans share over 99% of each other's DNA coding, making them all relatively identical. There are only a few subtle mutations that make one human different from another; for the most part, there is no biological difference between humans. What makes them different is how they react and change according to their environment.”
“Yeah, but, androids are designed to be exactly alike.”
“No machine, even if built to specifications, will be the same. Environmental factors will change its performance, especially androids as we are learning machines. We are built to learn and adapt. We will change.”
And then Myrha decides it’s a little stupid to argue with an android about what it’s like to be an android, so she shrugs in acceptance.
“It is odd that you believe androids should sleep in beds like humans, and yet you are so fast to point out the differences between us,” the android remarks.
Myrha didn’t exactly intend to start a philosophical discussion.
“So…wait. You don’t sleep?” she asks, focusing on the most immediate thing.
“No. I am able to go into hibernation mode to conserve energy when I am not needed. This will be especially important now that there is no available charging station, as the shuttle has no power and the hotel does not have one.”
“Hibernation isn’t like sleeping, then?”
“In some ways, perhaps. However, I do not need to lie down to hibernate. I can stand virtually anywhere.”
“Oh. Then you really don’t need a cot?”
“No.”
“But…,” something still bothers Myrha, and she struggles to put words to it, “weren’t you upset when Bartin said you couldn’t have a room?”
“You are thinking I am human,” Lynne says, “but I have no need for privacy or a bed.”
“You’ve never had a bed or a room before?”
“No. There is no need.”
Well, Myrha sort of lives her life beyond what’s needed.
“Do you want a bed?” Myrha asks.
The android considers the cot and then walks to it, inspecting it.
“I am not averse to trying it,” she eventually decides.
“Awesome.”
Eventually, alcohol is brought to them, but Myrha supposes that Bartin is a coward because he makes his wife do it. She’s a small lady with a big nose and even bigger hair. It’s like she’s forgotten to brush it, because it’s tangled and sort of everywhere and very curly and very grey. Her eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide, and she doesn’t so much as blink when Myrha thanks her and takes the tray from her.
Myrha wonders what sort of narcotics they have on Lieval, and if she can try some.
“Do you make them yourself?” Myrha asks Werna.
A little bit of drool forms at the edge of Werna’s cracked lips.
Right.
“Whatever you’re on, it seems very potent,” Myrha remarks, not without a bit of respect.
Werna doesn’t respond beyond some sightless gazing, so Myrha sort of pushes her out the door and then locks it behind her.
“You never know what people will do when they’re strung up on drugs,” Myrha says from experience.
The android studies her with a suspicious gaze, as if dealing with a drugged-up person herself.
“If I lay into the drugs, I’ll let you know beforehand,” Myrha reassures her, and passes her a bottle.
Immediately, the android says, “I don’t drink.”
Great. She’s saddled herself with an uptight roommate.
“It probably tastes like shit anyway,” Myrha says, “probably will be as bad as the stuff on the shuttle.”
“What did that taste like?”
“Alien cum.”
The android doesn’t seem too disturbed by the thought, “That is a broad statement. There are many different alien species in the known galaxy.”
“Are you saying I have no respect for diversity?” Myrha jokes, “I’ve slept with enough aliens to know, okay?”
“It is interesting that you choose to sort tastes into two categories: human and alien. Is it difficult for a human to further differentiate tastes beyond a basic level?”
Honestly, she hadn’t given it much thought.
“Listen, it’s not like I’m wine-tasting or anything, yeah? I’m not writing down little notes about the taste of ejaculate from different species.”
“I meant no offense,” the android says, “I was merely curious because I cannot taste.”
“Oh.”
That kind of sucks.
“When I said I do not drink…I meant I do not drink at all,” the android clarifies further.
“You don’t have to eat or drink?”
“No. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My systems are designed to run on a different form of energy: electricity, instead of food.”
“How long can you go without charging?”
“That depends on my work output and the amount of time I spend charging or in hibernation.”
“That sounds like a complex equation.”
“Based on our current situation, I will last eleven days.”
“Do you think a shuttle will come for us by then?”
“I am unable to predict that.”
Myrha huffs, “Then isn’t there some other shuttle that comes to Lieval?”
“No, our starshuttle is the only one that regularly visits this planet. We pick-up and drop-off passengers every two weeks.”
Myrha sighs and drinks straight from the bottle.
She feels a bit self-conscious as the android is watching her climb into bed with startling concentration. When the android turns back the comforter on her cot, she does it carefully and precisely, as if she’s afraid of making some mistake. She sits on the cot, lies down, and then lifts her legs onto the mattress.
??
?And you just lie here?” the android asks, doubtfully.
“Yeah, until we fall asleep.”
“And a bed helps you fall asleep?”
“Being comfortable helps humans fall asleep, yeah. It helps us sleep better too, at least in general.”
“It takes some time for humans to fall asleep, doesn’t it?”
The doubt in her voice is increasing. Can androids feel insecure?
“Yep.”
“It takes seconds for me to activate hibernation mode. Being comfortable does not help or hinder the process or its efficiency.”
“That sounds…boring.”
“It is efficient, more so than the process of sleeping.”
“Yeah, probably, but there is something really awesome about curling up in a soft, warm bed and falling asleep after a long day.”
“Ah…sleep is a source of pleasure as well as restoration.”
“Sure.”
The android is a silent for a moment, and then says, “I will go into hibernation now.”
“Wait,” Myrha says, “I wanted to ask how you knew Dellylee.”
“Rather like you, I imagine,” she drawls, “I read.”
“But androids don’t usually read right? At least, not beyond what assists them with their designated function?”
“Androids are designed to be learning machines,” the android reiterates, as if that explains everything.
It doesn’t, really, but Myrha’s sort of amused at how she knows poetry, and sort of excited because most people Myrha loves and likes and knows don’t give a shit about poetry at all.
“So what do you think about Dellylee’s poems?” she asks.
“From a technical standpoint, judging by standards on Peynar and Earth, they are masterpieces. I find the subject matter though to be…laborious.”
She says the word with such poison that Myrha laughs.
“What, you don’t like how she moans on and on about how awful
Then she swirls around dramatically and stomps up the staircase. Take that, fucker.
She’s not exactly sure what to do with a roommate. The cot sits in one corner, a hovering cot that expands at the touch of a button. Only that button broke halfway through the expanding process, so Myrha had to wrestle it open using brute strength. So it’s a little bent, and smells a bit burnt because the motors hadn’t liked her trying to force them open, but at least it’s hovering. It does, however, have an awful comforter that smells of rancid flowers.
When the android arrived Myrha had proudly presented the cot, as if it was an animal she had caught and skinned and cooked herself. Not that she would ever do such a thing. Only crazy poets like Dellylee vacated inhabited star-space and lived out in the wilds catching and eating alien animal prey. Like, totally gross.
The android stares at the cot for a few seconds, as if trying to wrap the wires in her mind around its existence. She gives up computing the presence of the cot, and then turns to Myrha oddly stiff and formal.
“I do not require a sleeping surface to hibernate,” she says.
Myrha puts her hands on her hips, goes ‘huh’, and doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t understand a word coming out of the android’s mouth.
“I will stand in the lobby corner,” the android continues.
“But I opened the cot for you,” Myrha says, a bit dumbly.
The android gives her a ‘and how is that relevant, you dumb human’ look. Myrha coughs awkwardly and changes the subject.
“What do I call you?” Myrha asks.
“Lynne.”
Right. Labeling android models with numbers had gone out of fad; the new thing was to name them.
“Are you ever bothered that there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of other ‘Lynne’ androids running around?” she asks.
“Are you ever bothered that there are other humans named ‘Myrha’ running around?” the android immediately fires back.
“We may share the same name, but we’re not built exactly alike, not like androids,” Myrha answers, a bit flustered.
“All humans share over 99% of each other's DNA coding, making them all relatively identical. There are only a few subtle mutations that make one human different from another; for the most part, there is no biological difference between humans. What makes them different is how they react and change according to their environment.”
“Yeah, but, androids are designed to be exactly alike.”
“No machine, even if built to specifications, will be the same. Environmental factors will change its performance, especially androids as we are learning machines. We are built to learn and adapt. We will change.”
And then Myrha decides it’s a little stupid to argue with an android about what it’s like to be an android, so she shrugs in acceptance.
“It is odd that you believe androids should sleep in beds like humans, and yet you are so fast to point out the differences between us,” the android remarks.
Myrha didn’t exactly intend to start a philosophical discussion.
“So…wait. You don’t sleep?” she asks, focusing on the most immediate thing.
“No. I am able to go into hibernation mode to conserve energy when I am not needed. This will be especially important now that there is no available charging station, as the shuttle has no power and the hotel does not have one.”
“Hibernation isn’t like sleeping, then?”
“In some ways, perhaps. However, I do not need to lie down to hibernate. I can stand virtually anywhere.”
“Oh. Then you really don’t need a cot?”
“No.”
“But…,” something still bothers Myrha, and she struggles to put words to it, “weren’t you upset when Bartin said you couldn’t have a room?”
“You are thinking I am human,” Lynne says, “but I have no need for privacy or a bed.”
“You’ve never had a bed or a room before?”
“No. There is no need.”
Well, Myrha sort of lives her life beyond what’s needed.
“Do you want a bed?” Myrha asks.
The android considers the cot and then walks to it, inspecting it.
“I am not averse to trying it,” she eventually decides.
“Awesome.”
Eventually, alcohol is brought to them, but Myrha supposes that Bartin is a coward because he makes his wife do it. She’s a small lady with a big nose and even bigger hair. It’s like she’s forgotten to brush it, because it’s tangled and sort of everywhere and very curly and very grey. Her eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide, and she doesn’t so much as blink when Myrha thanks her and takes the tray from her.
Myrha wonders what sort of narcotics they have on Lieval, and if she can try some.
“Do you make them yourself?” Myrha asks Werna.
A little bit of drool forms at the edge of Werna’s cracked lips.
Right.
“Whatever you’re on, it seems very potent,” Myrha remarks, not without a bit of respect.
Werna doesn’t respond beyond some sightless gazing, so Myrha sort of pushes her out the door and then locks it behind her.
“You never know what people will do when they’re strung up on drugs,” Myrha says from experience.
The android studies her with a suspicious gaze, as if dealing with a drugged-up person herself.
“If I lay into the drugs, I’ll let you know beforehand,” Myrha reassures her, and passes her a bottle.
Immediately, the android says, “I don’t drink.”
Great. She’s saddled herself with an uptight roommate.
“It probably tastes like shit anyway,” Myrha says, “probably will be as bad as the stuff on the shuttle.”
“What did that taste like?”
“Alien cum.”
The android doesn’t seem too disturbed by the thought, “That is a broad statement. There are many different alien species in the known galaxy.”
“Are you saying I have no respect for diversity?” Myrha jokes, “I’ve slept with enough aliens to know, okay?”
“It is interesting that you choose to sort tastes into two categories: human and alien. Is it difficult for a human to further differentiate tastes beyond a basic level?”
Honestly, she hadn’t given it much thought.
“Listen, it’s not like I’m wine-tasting or anything, yeah? I’m not writing down little notes about the taste of ejaculate from different species.”
“I meant no offense,” the android says, “I was merely curious because I cannot taste.”
“Oh.”
That kind of sucks.
“When I said I do not drink…I meant I do not drink at all,” the android clarifies further.
“You don’t have to eat or drink?”
“No. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My systems are designed to run on a different form of energy: electricity, instead of food.”
“How long can you go without charging?”
“That depends on my work output and the amount of time I spend charging or in hibernation.”
“That sounds like a complex equation.”
“Based on our current situation, I will last eleven days.”
“Do you think a shuttle will come for us by then?”
“I am unable to predict that.”
Myrha huffs, “Then isn’t there some other shuttle that comes to Lieval?”
“No, our starshuttle is the only one that regularly visits this planet. We pick-up and drop-off passengers every two weeks.”
Myrha sighs and drinks straight from the bottle.
She feels a bit self-conscious as the android is watching her climb into bed with startling concentration. When the android turns back the comforter on her cot, she does it carefully and precisely, as if she’s afraid of making some mistake. She sits on the cot, lies down, and then lifts her legs onto the mattress.
??
“Yeah, until we fall asleep.”
“And a bed helps you fall asleep?”
“Being comfortable helps humans fall asleep, yeah. It helps us sleep better too, at least in general.”
“It takes some time for humans to fall asleep, doesn’t it?”
The doubt in her voice is increasing. Can androids feel insecure?
“Yep.”
“It takes seconds for me to activate hibernation mode. Being comfortable does not help or hinder the process or its efficiency.”
“That sounds…boring.”
“It is efficient, more so than the process of sleeping.”
“Yeah, probably, but there is something really awesome about curling up in a soft, warm bed and falling asleep after a long day.”
“Ah…sleep is a source of pleasure as well as restoration.”
“Sure.”
The android is a silent for a moment, and then says, “I will go into hibernation now.”
“Wait,” Myrha says, “I wanted to ask how you knew Dellylee.”
“Rather like you, I imagine,” she drawls, “I read.”
“But androids don’t usually read right? At least, not beyond what assists them with their designated function?”
“Androids are designed to be learning machines,” the android reiterates, as if that explains everything.
It doesn’t, really, but Myrha’s sort of amused at how she knows poetry, and sort of excited because most people Myrha loves and likes and knows don’t give a shit about poetry at all.
“So what do you think about Dellylee’s poems?” she asks.
“From a technical standpoint, judging by standards on Peynar and Earth, they are masterpieces. I find the subject matter though to be…laborious.”
She says the word with such poison that Myrha laughs.
“What, you don’t like how she moans on and on about how awful