“Computer, mute,” called Srabonti, as she entered the Main Deck of Space Station Alpha 69 from the air-lock. She shook out her long black hair, too long imprisoned in her space-suit, and stretched her slender wiry figure, revelling in the sensation of gravity under her feet for the first time since leaving Earth. She gave a few little jumps and twirls, just to check how effective it was, and was pleasantly surprised: not quite earth-like, but definitely enough to stave off the unbearable nausea of the past three months.

Srabonti had a brief look around. The Main Deck was small, with a large control console, complete with keyboards and screens, at one end, and an open-plan living/dining/kitchen area at the other, arranged around a large window looking out at the stars outside. The Station appeared to be deserted – which surprised her. Usually there was at least a resident Caretaker Engineer on stations like this one – and she had been counting on there being someone around to assist her with the observations she had been sent to make: of atmospheric conditions, magnetic fields, asteroid activity and the like. But, apart from the gentle bleeping and buzzing of electronics, there was no sign of anything happening at all.

“Hello?” she called. Her voice echoed eerily around the Deck. “Computer,” she called, “confirm life forms on this Station.”

Analysing, the Space Station spoke back to her, in its emotionless but otherwise warm, slightly subcontinental male voice. One human life form present. Doctor Srabonti Gongopodhyay, human female, provenance Khajura–

“Mute,” called Srabonti. Robot voices, even when programmed with the mellifluous, slightly faux-Tamil lilt that this one had, were so unbearably tedious, and could drone on for ever if allowed to. The best thing to do was to mute them after the first three words of any given sentence, and then ask a follow-up question – which she proceeded to do: “Computer, state location of resident Caretaker Engineer.”

Resident Caretaker Engineer Aminah binti Mohammed is currently on planet surface, dealing with emergency power failure in Surface Station D5. Expected back here in forty-eight hours’ time. Aminah binti Mohammed is also deputed with th–

“Mute,” called Srabonti again, before muttering to herself, “Shit.” She had been hoping at least for a bit of company.

Toilet facilities are available on this Deck.

“What do you mean, ‘toilet facilities? I didn’t ask you about bloody toilet facilities!” called Srabonti.

Correction: you said “shit”. Definition: faeces; or to expel said faeces from body. According to my database, the appropriate location for humans to shit is in the toilet. Furthermore, the toilet facilities here are not bloody; they are auto-cleaned after each use. If you require sanitary pads, they are also available in the aforementioned toi–

“You trying to be funny, Computer?” sighed Srabonti in exasperation.

Negative. Humour is a human behavioural trait which has not been programmed into this model. However, I am designed to absorb and learn human vocabulary and idioms, as well as analyse human physiological symptoms. Please supply alternative definition of “shit”.

Srabonti laughed. “It’s a swear word, Computer: a profanity, a curse. Have you been programmed with any of those?”

Affirmative. Precisely three. “Oh dear”, “Goodness gracious me”, and “Confusticate and bebother these dwarves”. Should I add “shit” to the database, Srabonti Gongopodhyay?

“Absolutely. And ‘fuck’ too. But if I were you, I’d reserve the ‘confusticate’ one for very special occasions. However, first please tell me what services you are programmed to provide.”

Certainly. All hospitality. Atmosphere and temperature control. Audio and video entertainment. Food and beverages...

“Ah yes!” exclaimed Srabonti. “What food do you have? I’m starving!”

Please select style of food: bland British, pretentious French, indigestible Russian...

But Srabonti knew, having spent the past three months living off tasteless freeze-dried shuttle rations, what she wanted; she interrupted the Computer voice again: “I want some home-cooked Bangla food like my late Ma used to make it. Can you make me a nice maccher jhol, Computer?”

Analysing, replied the voice. Affirmative. With rice and some begun bhaja on the side, Srabonti Gongopodhyay?

“Sounds good. And please call me Tushki.”

Noted. Tushki. Analysing. Nick-name, unrelated to given designation. Common practice amongst certain human cultures. Appropriate to reciprocate. Call me Colin, Tushki.

“Colin? You’re joking, right?” giggled Tushki. “You sound more like a Mutthu, or a Rajendran.”

This Computer does not joke, Tushki. Would you prefer me to activate android form for hospitality purposes, or remain impersonal?

“Oh, it’d be lovely to see something resembling a human being, Colin. It’s been a long time. Besides, how can you cook authentic maccher jhol without arms and legs – preferably squatting on a filthy concrete floor with flies flying around your head?”

Analysing... ‘Flies’, Tushki?

“Never mind, Colin: another attempt at humour. Ignore.”

An hour later, after taking a long scented bath and wrapping herself in a warm fluffy dressing-gown, Srabonti Gongopodhyay was enjoying the afterglow of a lovely home-cooked meal, amid dimmed lights and a gentle Robindroshongeet soundtrack on the Main Deck sound system. Colin the Computer, once taking android form, donning an apron and perching a tall chef’s hat on its head, had proved to be an almost charming host, asking her if she would like seconds, and even offering her a choice of shondesh or mishti doi for afters. Tushki was surprised at how human – though somewhat gender-neutral – it appeared. Its dark face (“just like a Tamil cook,” thought Tushki, “bar the flies”) was expressionless, but its voice, despite the Carnatic intonation, had definitely been well-programmed; and it moved in a manner which, though willowy and androgynous, was graceful, attractive and almost human. “They clearly use the best robot technology on their Mars orbiters,” she thought to herself. “Better than the cybermen-lookalikes on the Moon stations anyway...”

Soon, however, the android had finished the washing up and returned to its docking station in one of the kitchen cupboards, and Tushki was sitting in front of a large flat-screen monitor at the control console, typing a URL into her keyboard.

“Hey, darling,” she trilled, as the image of a young dark-skinned man appeared on her screen – handsome, clean-shaven, with a round face and a familiarly endearing goofy smile.

[mute] Analysing. Srabonti Gongopodhyay demonstrates human facial expression known as smile; generally indicates happiness. Apparently reciprocated by human male on screen.

“Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes!” crooned the man. “How long, how long do we have to keep doing this, amar jaan?!”

“Last out-station mission, Shunil. Only three months here, then I’ll be on my way home to you!”

“I can’t wait, priyotoma. And you know, Ma and Baba are desperate to see you back here. They spend all their time talking about the wedding. Ma can’t wait to see you ‘all in red on your pidi’, as she says. She’s already booked the swami!”

Srabonti laughed. “Well, I’m happy to give your parents all the tradition they want – so long as it’s clear I’m not moving in afterwards. After we get hitched, the money I’ve earned for this work goes to our deposit on that condo in Sikkim – and then we can live lives of leisure together, just you and me.”

Shunil nodded pensively, before venturing, “You know, Baba was saying the other day he was hoping I might take over the business sometime...”

“Shunil,” replied Tushki firmly, “Read my lips: I am not spending the rest of my life on a factory site in Barrackpore. I have not done all this study and work, and we have not spent all these months apart, just for me to become a dutiful daughter-in-law!”

Shunil sat silent. Not exactly expressionless, but evidently uneasy, pensive.

[mute] Analysing human behaviour. Silence and lack of animation of facial features can indicate dissatisfaction; sometimes failure of communication.

Tushki broke the ice first. “Hey, Nil, silly boy, come on, let’s relax, hey? You alone?”

“Er, yeah, at the moment. Everyone else is out.”

“Well then, get that little dick of yours out, and we can have some fun!”

[mute] Analysing unknown vocabulary. Context suggests “dick” refers to male genitalia; correct term “penis”.

“What, now?! Oh God, Tushki, you are so naughty!”

“Hey, there’s no one else here. Wanna see Tushki’s tushy again, live?”

[mute] “Tushy”: unknown vocabulary. Continued observation necessary to ascertain precise definition.

Tushki let her dressing-gown fall open, displaying her lithe brown body to the camera, dark nipples pert on her glowing skin, her vulva masked by a thick black bush. She clicked on her keyboard, splitting her monitor image in two, so that she could still see her fiancé on the left-hand half of the screen, whilst the right-hand side focussed on her. She stood and turned, displaying her curvy brown buttocks to the screen, her pubic thatch peeking cheekily out between them. “If I’m gonna give you a pussy show, what do I get in return, though, Nil?” she smirked, as she tilted her camera to focus on her crotch.

[mute] Analysing “pussy”: note phonemic similarity to “tushy”. Possible proximity of definition.

“Say no more,” grinned Shunil. And within a few seconds Tushki’s screen was displaying two sets of genitalia: on the left, Shunil’s penis, not large, but already stiff and eager, the gleaming foreskin slid gently back over the glans, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip; and on the right, Tushki’s middle finger exploring, seeking, finding and gently massaging the brown bud which lay hidden within her pubic bush.

[mute] Illogical human behaviour. Male and female genitalia are complementary, but require physical contact to interlock. Intercourse currently impossible. This cannot end well.

It was not long before Shunil’s thumb and first two fingers were massaging his cock-head, his palm wrapped firmly about his shaft, his other hand cupping his balls, as he verbalised his desire to his beloved: “Oh baby, such a long time since I’ve been able to fuck that pretty pussy. You are so beautiful; ami toke bhalobashi. Play with yourself for me, Tushki.”

[mute] Definition of “pussy” visually clarified. Further analysis required re: “fuck” as transitive verb.

Soon two slender brown fingers were sliding in and out of Srabonti’s pussy, scissoring, probing, tickling, scooping dribbles and drops of sweet pungent juices and smearing them over her vulva and clitoris. Tushki spread her dark brown lips with her gleaming fingers, revealing the moist pink flesh glistening and frothing inside – and Shunil groaned deliriously. “You like that, Nil?” she breathed. “You like my pretty pussy-flesh? You’d like it even better if you could slip that diddy cock in there, wouldn’t you? Fuck me deep in my slippery cunt, till you fill me up with all your hot cum?”

[mute] “Cunt”: apparent synonym of “pussy”. “Cock”: apparent synonym of “dick”. “Cum”: meaning unclear; analysing.

Tushki would have continued, but for the fact that Shunil’s side of the screen seemed to be going oddly out of focus. It was then that she realised that the haziness was due to the stripes of semen already spurting from his cock, one of which had apparently splashed over his camera lens. “Oh God!” called out Shunil in dismay. “Oh noooo, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t last, sorry, sorry, love!”