Fembots E-Book

alastair macleod

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

A small Scottish knitwear firm begins to introduce Fembots; advanced humanoid robot women to the production line. Attractive, skilful and very lifelike, will these Fembots be accepted by the women workers in the workplace? What happens when the women are encouraged to take them home and what affect do they have on their men?

Is this the real challenge of the future?

Leseprobe

Alastair Macleod

Fembots

to the girls; HSN8, H5N1, H7N9, HRP-4C, and Erica. disclaimer: The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual robots, actoids, humanoids, persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, companies and products is intended, or should be inferred.BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Fembots

A small Scottish knitwear firm begins to introduce Fembots; advanced humanoid robot women to the production line. Attractive, skilful and very lifelike, will these Fembots be accepted by the women workers in the workplace? What happens when the women are encouraged to take them home and what affect do they have on their men?

Is this the real challenge of the future?

The boardroom was large and spacious. The CEO Nicol Maxwell sat opposite Lena Scott the Union rep.

“How are things Lena?”

“Well, very well in fact.”

Lena was non plussed; why this meeting, here, now?

“The board is looking ahead. Ahead at automation.

We plan a phased introduction of automation.”

Lena became alert.

“Are you threatening redundancy?”

She said in a low tone.

“Well, I cannot hide it. Our costs are high. We resisted moving production abroad. That way we kept a lot of local jobs, but if we are going to stay here in the Borders we must automate.

“Robots,” said Lena curtly.

“Actually, Fembots,” said Nicol, but as he said it he realised he had made a mistake.

“What, the robotic tarts who work for you now are not submissive enough? You want robot women?”

“It’s just the name their company gives them,” said Maxwell.

“Don’t kid me, I’ve seen them on YouTube, tits an all.”

“At first,” continued Nicol, “it will be natural wastage, retirals, moving on; no redundancies.”

“And then?”

You must understand Lena it’s experimental, and it may not work out.”

“When do they arrive?” said Lena knowing this was already decided.

“Next week; five to start with, on the cardigan line.”

“The cardigan line? But that’s skilled hand work - how can they do that stuff.”

“That’s what I want to be convinced of.”

But he was already convinced. He had seen them at work in Japan.

The NP 205, Miku, was lifelike, with silicone skin, young features, nimble hands, worked flawlessly on the demo and twice as fast as his own mill workers. The Fembots didn’t speak back and were all smiles and curves.

Lena reported what he had said in the canteen.

The women were muted at the news. Was it a threat? They had seen new machines before but they were large clunky things. Gradually, it was true, new machinery became smaller, quieter, sleeker; the work place was pleasanter.

“Will they spik English,” Said Wilma.

“Yes,” said Lena, “at least that’s whit Ah hiv been telt.”

“But will they understan us?” Said Elspet.

“There probably won’t be much conversation,” said Robert, the foreman, “they’re here to work not blether.”

“Yir like a record Robert Laidlaw. Wars the herm in a little banter.”

“Are they all weemen?” Said young Pheemie Stewart, “Why can’t we hiv some handsome men fur a change?”

“Ye mean big strong lads like the ones you like?”

“Aye an ones that’ll go all night,” said Chrissie, “a robot never tires.”

There were cackles of laughter at this.

“If Ah ken the Japanese they’ll jist bow and scrape and hiv high pitched voices,”

said Lorna.

“They will’na tak tea though,” said Maggie, “we’ll no get oor sit doons.”

The next week a big lorry with “Tokamatsu Robotics” emblazoned on the side pulled in and unloaded five long boxes.

“Coffins,” said Lena watching from a window.

“Aye, oor coffins, “said Wilma, “we’ll be oot o wark soon.”

Lena went down to the loading bay as the boxes were wheeled in on a fork lift. They were coffin size, only the wood was light rough pine.

They gently prised the lids off, then a sheet of cardboard, then a sheet of bubble wrap then, shaped round the figures, a sheet of blue and red neoprene, then next to the silicone skin, a white cotton cloth.

Lena put her hand to her mouth. Five young women in trousers and tops lay staring up at them. Slightly Asiatic features, three with black hair, one with blonde hair and one with red hair.

Robert the foreman, with the factory technician fussed over them.

“Is this yir hareem then?” Said Wilma who had joined the reception committee.

“Surely yir no jealous of a robot?” Said Robert.