The Remote Controlled Woman

The seal of the inner chamber hissed with pressure, venting a plume of nitrogen-rich gas that obscured the boots of Grawtzkh. Grawtzkh was a woman of dense, stygian posture, her face a sharp, jutting shelf of material that seemed repellent any attempt at warmth. She stood beside Kruppth, whose face was a collection of smooth angles and shadowed eyes, currently examining a servomechanism that had suffered a mechanical oscillation in its primary gimbal. The device, a component of the facility’s lateral stabilizer, was built to tolerances of 0.002 millimeters. Kruppth chain smoked anxiously, but spoke in a sober neutral voice that vibrated. “The grease has reached its desiccation point,” Kruppth said, her tone laconic. “I am remembering a similar failure in the civilian sector three decades ago. We should re-access the maintenance schedule.” Grawtzkh nodded dutifully, her movements governed by a grim alacrity. “I deduce the friction was the primary variable,” Grawtzkh replied. “If you knew anything of psychology, you would see the whole situation has conformed to their condition of neglect,” she said inhumanly.

They moved through the hallway toward the girl, Éloïse Trouverelle, who sat in a plastic chair, her presence a disquieting intelligence amidst the drab metal. She was endowed with a physical form defined by sinuous curves that strained against the weave of her synthetic garment; her heavy breasts rose and fell. Grawtzkh noted the precise displacement of the material. She was blowing a bubble of chewing gum that expanded before popping with a sharp sound that made Grawtzkh feel herself grow tense. “There must be a mistake,” she spoke, her voice yielding nothing but a sarcastic cold resignation. “The Federation Administration promised a substitute for my service.” Grawtzkh looked at her with an exaggerated politeness that felt a thousand worlds away. “I gather the attempt to capitulate was erroneous,” she said. “The organization maintaining this laboratory does not permit such a thing. I want information on a subject that has been unknown, specifically the project plans you purportedly bequeathed to the fledgling firm.”

Kruppth watched her avidly, her eyes held in a suppressed manner as if conducting a microscopic audit of her discomfiture. “I’m positive the records differ,” Éloïse said, her face distorted with rage for a fleeting second before becoming pellucid and calm again. “Yo­u remember my mother. She was an inveterate liar.” Kruppth humly sighed, a sound like grinding gravel. “Whether it is more profitable to believe a liar or a machine is a confounding problem,” she asseverated. “Your impetuosity in the lower levels was noted. You jerked away from the sedative injector with a ferocity that suggests enhanced cerebral activity. I want to put this thought to you: the bonds of humans with one another are all diseased, and you are merely a component of a larger development.” She reached out a hand, her fingers lithe and unguent.

The interior landscape of the laboratory undulated vibrantly under the low light. Grawtzkh felt a twinge of alarm, a faint analogy to a headache, as the heavy doors locked into the depths of the bunker. “She’s bluffing,” Grawtzkh remarked to the slender wiry woman who had just entered—a shrewd administrator with a cavalier aplomb. Grossman was conversant in the variables of the colony’s future policy. “I deduce we must consolidate the constituency,” Grossman said, her voice a commanding rasp. “The natural world spurns our presence. We must quell the unpredictability, the intractability of the local spirit.” She looked at Éloïse, her gaze lingering. “We kidnapped several children, surgically removed their brains to place into cybernetic bodies, and were planning to subject them to VR training modeled after your very own Danielle Eckhart. It was a decisive action.”

Éloïse’s eyes clashed with hers. “You think in terms of subservient agencies,” she begged, though her voice was adamant. “But the proprietary code is not yours to engorge.” A brilliant hue of light suffused the floor. “The attempt was genuine,” Kruppth remarking thoughtfully, her mind inturned toward some hidden sorrow. “But your partizanship for the natural world is obsolete. We are beyond terrestrial experience now.” She watched her through the glass, her artificial face mask emulating reticent observation. “As per the dicts of the High Command, we must proceed. Join your power with Atlas, or be diminished – but as you know, It is a kind of immense boon to those who are submissive.” The girl remained subdued, her dreams drowning them like thick but invisible nectar. “- the results are always astonishing when the mind is properly framed,” Éloïse said omninously. They looked at the erotic woman with unsure glaring eyes through their contorted calibrating faces.