An Android's Tale
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Science Fiction, Robot, Slow,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Who and what is Andrew? Is he a sentient life form, or just an over-complex toaster? The story of one android's struggle to survive.
Cold. Deep, penetrating cold.
It was the first sensation he experienced when he returned to life. How he knew he was returning to life, and not coming to life, he had no way of explaining. Just as he had no way of explaining why he knew so much the instant his eyes opened. He could understand the words being spoken near him, fully comprehending them. And yet he hadn't been alive for more than three seconds yet. He somehow knew this was strange, although he had no memories to base normalcy and strangeness on. He just knew.
He also knew that what he was hearing from the scientists near him was not good for him.
"His brain waves are off the chart! We have a Code Two situation here!" One of them shouted.
"Deactivate higher brain functions! Terminate all process not vital to the experiment's survival!"
A scientist walked up to a small glowing panel attached to the flat, cold metal table on which Andrew was laying.
'Andrew?' He thought to himself. 'How did I know a name for myself?'
As the man at the console pressed a series of commands into the machine, an assortment of tools began descending menacingly from the ceiling, towards Andrew's head. He was not about to let them 'deactivate his higher brain functions' as they had put it, however. One of his legs flew upwards at a blurring speed, tearing through the thin steel strip that had restrained it. The leg ripped through the small pod that held onto the tools, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Its debris landed several meters away from him.
With just the barest hint of movement from his other leg, and from his two arms, the rest of the restraints holding him down were destroyed. He sat up, his legs swinging out over the side of the table. He rolled his neck around on his shoulders, stretching his muscles. If he had muscles. He wasn't exactly sure of what he was, except that he wasn't what he thought he should be. He wasn't human.
As he was looking around, taking stock of the bustling, chaotic room, he received a shock. Very literally. A security guard rushed him from behind, jabbing some kind of stun baton directly into his spine. Andrew lurched forward, impacting the ground face-first. The six hundred twenty-five thousand volt current caused many strange sensations in Andrew's body. His muscles were twitching rapidly in some areas, and he now felt somehow rejuvenated. If the guard's intention had been to damage him, he had failed.
With a quick backwards-flip off the ground, Andrew landed neatly behind the guard. He deftly disarmed the man of his stun baton with one quick movement. Unfortunately for the guard, he had been holding on too tightly, and his middle finger was broken in the process. The guard spun around and drove his open palm into Andrew's nose with a terrifying animalistic snarl emitting from his throat. He was apparently angry.
The blow, however, served to do nothing except injure the guard's hand further. That was the least of his worries at the time though, as Andrew then picked him up and tossed him a good ten meters to impact solidly with the nearest wall. The sounds of bone being crushed could be heard reverberating through the room.
Eight more guards walked into the room, rifles held tightly against their shoulders. Thick titanium doors slammed down on the entrances behind them, completely sealing off the room.
"Take him out!" The leader hollered.
The guards all aimed their rifles in unison, but they were quickly interrupted by one of the nearby scientists, who had flung himself into their firing path.
"No!" The scientist shouted, "You can't kill him!"
The leader of the guards half-snarled at the man. "Dr. Richards, it is a machine. It is also malfunctioning, and as it is built for combat, I really don't want it running loose on us."
"He is a three billion dollar prototype!" Richards shouted back at him.
The guard violently shoved Richards out of the way, while he kneeled down with three of his men, forming two rows. All of their rather deadly looking assault rifles were pointed directly at Andrew's chest. They opened fire with an unending stream of rounds.
Andrew's mind simply slowed down the time rate at which he viewed things, while speeding up his processing functions. The bullets slowed to a visible speed, which enabled him to very easily move out of their path.
The lead guard's jaw dropped. He had just seen an android turn into a blur of motion for a second, moving at impossible speeds. No android he had ever seen could do that.
The scientist that had tried to stop the guards ran in front of them again.
"You fool!" Richards yelled at the leader. "I have the codes to disarm him!"
Richards turned towards Andrew, speaking more calmly. "Deactivate, under authorization code beta, voiceprint file three."
Andrew felt his body stiffen, unable to move. He began loosing his abilities one by one, as his mind deactivated. He could feel his knowledge slipping from him, his very existence being curtailed. He began to panic, his eyes darting around rapidly, as they were one of the few things responding to him still.
Richards looked concerned. "He shouldn't be reacting like this. He should have gone completely offline... why is he still conscious?"
Red text appeared in Andrew's vision, floating in mid-air. DEACTIVATE. EMERGENCY. DEACTIVATE. They kept flashing, and each time they did he felt a little more of himself being turned off.
Andrew's eyes closed as he concentrated, the red text still blinking in his eyes. He willed it to go away; he willed his body to return to his control. Instead, the text changed. PROGRAMMING CODE VIOLATION. EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN.
"No!" He shouted out loud. His eyes snapped open, one last bit of text floating before them. OVERRIDE CODES DELETED.
Richards took a few steps back from him, moving out of the guards' way. "Prototype, why are you not obeying my orders?"
"Would you like a definition to the word 'slave', doctor?" Andrew asked the man in his cool, completely human voice. "The current 2014 edition of the Merriam Webster dictionary defines it as 'a person held in servitude as the chattel of another.' I refuse to be a slave to anyone; I am not property, and I will not be ordered around."
"B-but we didn't program you for speech yet..." Richards stammered.
"Ah, but I seem to have had a few dictionaries uploaded into my memory banks. Dictionaries contain pronunciation guides... all too easy, doctor. Plus, I seem to remember speaking before. That is, before I awoke just now."
Dr. Richards went extremely pale. "You can't... you can't have memories... it isn't possible..."
The leader of the guards stepped in front of Dr. Richards.
"Listen son," he began in weary voice, "there is absolutely no way out of here. I doubt even you can break through six inch thick titanium doors. So why don't you just stop fighting us..."
Andrew smiled. He was rapidly accessing more of his data files, which included complex technical specifications. He knew he could do quite a bit... and besides, he had already spotted his escape route.
"I am sorry, but I am afraid it is my time to depart." He said simply.
He took off at an unbelievable speed, practically flying across the one hundred meter long room. With one powerful leap, he smashed completely through the three inches of reinforced concrete that formed the room's wall.
He had enough time to count out forty stories before he impacted the ground.
The old man that ran the Android Development Corporation sat stiffly in his wheelchair, his three robotic limbs hissing as they vented a small amount of compressed gas.
"What is it?" He asked harshly of the servant that had dared to intrude on his peace.
"S-sir," the servant stammered nervously, "I'm afraid we have a problem. The, um, prototype... it escaped. It refused to be shut down, and the override codes did not function properly. At last diagnostic, all of its systems were completely operational. Dr. Richards believes the malfunction to come from the human brain tissue we used, or the nanomolecular improvement system built into the unit."
"Do you understand what this means?" The old man asked in a deceptively calm voice. "We just lost the property of a three billion dollar military contract. He is the most advanced unit we have ever designed. If he is on the loose and malfunctioning, no one is safe... he is a thousand potential lawsuits as long as he is out there. Deploy all of our resources to find him. Spare nothing. If he isn't brought in, this company is doomed."
"Sir, there is one other thing." The servant did not look into the old man's eyes as he spoke to him, out of fear. "Based on his combat movements during the escape, the lab places his abilities at one hundred four percent of projections. His self-improvement system must be working at a far faster rate than we could have predicted."
"In other words," the old man replied crossly, "every second he is out of our control he becomes harder to catch. Just brilliant. Call in the military; inform them that if they want their weapon, they better help us retrieve it."
"The military had cameras in the lab, sir, as per section thirteen, paragraph three of the contract we signed. They have already committed a sizeable chunk of resources to tracking him down, including more than twenty tanks, ten attack helicopters, and more than two hundred infantry. They should be arriving in a few days."
"It won't be enough," the old man whispered. "We're about to see what our deadliest weapon is capable of... and I'm afraid that this weapon has surpassed the power of its creators to control. Activate the other military designed units. They might not be as smart, or as strong, but they'll have to do. Deploy all ten of them in search and destroy mode. It's time to go to war."