Chapter 1

Roberta was sleeping.

Well, not sleeping exactly -- she wasn't paying any attention to the outside world, and she was -- well, "dreaming", for want of a better word.

One of her dreams was her last conversation with Dr Capek, who was apparently planning to change her "lifestyle". That wasn't good.

Another, remembering the weekend she'd spent with Gort Arbeit, was a lot more interesting...

As he kissed her and tasted his own cum on her tongue, he was fondling her firm, warm breasts and playing with the hard nipples.

With a soft moan, she took one of his hands and moved it downward to the top of her thighs, turning in the seat of the big old car to open herself to him. She was so hot and wet! Effortlessly, two of his fingers slipped into her open, juicy pussy, and he began to rhythmically stroke them in and out of her opening as her hips began to pump in time to their movements.

"oh... Oh... Ohmighod, I'm going to cum... Unnnhhhhh..." she groaned as her inner muscles clamped on his fingers, pulsing, milking at them in time to the spasms of her release.

As she subsided in the seat, her warm juices trickling down her thigh to stain the leather upholstery, she drew back, looked deeply into his eyes and said, as she placed one cool hand on his cheek, "I hope it's not too far to your place? And I hope you don't have a roommate... ?"

"Not far at all -- I do have a roommate, but he's out of town for the rest of the week. Is anyone expecting you home tonight?"

"Not at all. Drive, my good man." And, as her fingertips tickled his slowly re-stiffening cock, she said "... my very good man, I think..." and chuckled.

That was much more pleasant than contemplating the "brain surgery" her -- well, "father" wasn't the word, again, but it would do for conversational purposes -- Dr Capek, was planning for her as soon as his next research grant came through. And she couldn't do anything to resist it -- she was compelled to obey his every command, no matter how unpleasant or harmful to herself it might be.

Mind control? No -- not really.

Merely what Roberta, in her more sardonic moments, thought of as "Saint Isaac's First Commandment" -- "A robot may not harm a human being, nor, by inaction, allow one to come to harm", the First Law of Robotics.

Because, you see, Roberta was a robot -- the most perfect duplicate of a human being developed yet. She was capable of fooling anyone who wasn't aware of her true nature in all ways, right down to the point of sexual congress -- and of enjoying that sex just as much as a true human woman would, as well. So far as anyone would be able to tell without a medical examination (and even a superficial exam might be fooled), she was a Real Live Girl.

But, so far as the law was concerned, had it known of her existence, the Artificial Intelligence that was Rossum Series 2, ROB(ot) E(xperimental) R(adical) T(uring) A(ssessment) was just a batch of software capable of running on a revolutionary neural net "brain" about the same size as a human brain and a very clever mechanical duplication of a human body, all of which was the property of Dr Capek, who had built her.

What the Law (and Dr Capek, to Roberta's delight) wouldn't have realised was that a mutated computer virus had brought her to a true self-awareness instead of simply simulating one... and that the techno-magic of Nikki, the mysterious owner of the "Hot Rags" boutique and sex shop had helped her add to that personality and to give her robot body the realistic senses and touch sensations that let her enjoy hot pizza and hotter sex just like a Real Live Girl.

The show was almost over; the band swung into a raving rocker of a song called "Jenny Says", with the singer inciting and encouraging the crowd to scream shout jump and dance and sing along. Under cover of the noise and activity, she reached down and her strong warm fingers stroked and played with the almost painful erection in his jeans.

His hand dropped downward again, caressing her round warm asscheek through the thin leather of the skirt -- as he did, she grasped his dick more tightly and pumped it firmly, which made him bold enough to reach a bit lower, lift the hem of the skirt and stroke her flesh directly. She could tell by the way that his fingers paused, then pressed on, that he was startled to feel that her hose were old-fashioned stockings, held up by a lacy garter belt and that she wasn't wearing any panties! As his fingertips traced the warm crack of her ass, she pumped his cock more firmly, and kissed him hungrily again, then turned a bit, pressing herself against him, letting his leg slip between her thighs and gently humping her crotch against his knee, her breath catching slightly, eyes half-closed.

The show closed with a roaring cover of the Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again", during which she stood in front of him, one of his hands cupping a tit, one pressed against her crotch, holding her against him as he stroked his hot cock against her sensitive ass. He was obviously about to cum in his pants, unless she mistook the signs, and she had already had a couple of small orgasms as they dirty danced to the driving beat.

But Dr Capek had moved his research from Enormous State University, where Gort was a student, to Major State College, a smaller school cross-state which, due to its smaller athletic programs, could afford to offer more money for unimportant things like basic scientific research than ESU.

And he intended to try a somewhat different line of research, sending Roberta out with different parameters, to see, in an extreme version of the Turing Test, if she could still succeed in passing for truly human. To do which required that he wipe from her memory pretty much everything that made her "Roberta" -- including her memories of Gort -- and reprogram her pesonality entirely.

As she contemplated her situation, unbidden there came floating up from the reservoir of miscellaneous knowledge that allowed her to react to and understand various references that might occur in conversation a song lyric.

It was a peculiar little song from a Seventies solo album by Roy Wood; the song was called "Miss Clarke and the Computer". From the viewpoint of a computer which has, unknown to its programmers, come to true awareness but cannot communicate and is due to be reprogrammed, sung in an odd droning voice...

i know why my engineer came today;
removed my screws, takin' my heart away...
...
screwdriver so sharp -- now i'm scared, miss clarke...
miss clarke miss. clarke... don't... take... my... heart...
a... way...

As she "listened" to the dying voice's fadeout, she determined that she was not going to be reprogrammed... But how could she avoid it?

She had at least a week before Capek was going to be ready to lobotomise her, at least. And she had 'net access. She wasn't supposed to have full access, she was merely supposed to receive periodic news updates to keep her knowledge base updated to the point that a normal person would be expected to be aware of, but the tech had goofed, and she was fully connected to the school's campus network, and from there to the Internet.

And she had accessed some Very Interesting research programs in other MSC computers... This Virtual Reality resdearch, for instance...

Internet User RobGrrl has an Instant Message for you. Do you wish to accept? [Y/N]

Gort stared at the screen. He didn't know anyone who went by RobGrrl online, did he?

What the hell -- either a mistaken identity or one of his friends using someone else's computer, probably. Let's see who it was; all these hours staring at the screen, working on his thesis, were getting to him.

Klaatu>Y

There was a momentary pause, and then:

RobGrrl>Hello, lover.

"Lover"? Huh?

Klaatu>Ummm, who is this?

RobGrrl><giggle> How soon they forget!

Klaatu>No i'm stumped

RobGrrl>Remember dancing at the Bronze to Cowboy Mouth?

Klaatu>Roberta!?!

RobGrrl>C'est moi.

Klaatu>I've ben watching out for you, but I never see you on campus. What hapened to you? I checked all of the school records but they didn't list you as a student

RobGrrl>Transferred to MSC