>>12546 <Species evolve to meet the environment. An intelligent species changes the environment to suit itself.> A proud sounding voice, like that of an epic heroine. Unfortunately for her, she was five foot tall curled up in a coward's position on the floor. That voice was never going to suit her. It was surely someone's thing, but not Tom's. <We play your part in order to understand you, but you each seem to play a thousand parts.> A high pitched, and frankly annoying, animesque voice. Halfway between selling you something, and trying to convince onii-chan to take her to the park. Sounding young enough to make him feel uncomfortable. <I could translate, but it would be meaningless. They have welcomed us in the name of their Emperor.> A soft spoken and sweet voice. Attempting to, with unmerited confidence, emulate a shy girl. The ends of each sentence were punctuated with a sense of acute erudition. It was impressive that the bot was able to do that kind of text pressing. The cloud updates were starting to kick in surely. The best for last as they say. Tom had always liked shy girls. >In the name of their Emperor. The next lines from her were spoken in this new voice. It had now become part of her identity. She gave examples to further modulate the voice for more granular customization. Each change was accompanied by a voice example, in the words currently being spoken. <Would you like to change the pitch of this voice? I could go with a medium-high pitch, high pitch, medium-low pitch, low pitch, or the default medium pitch.> >Can you repeat the medium-low pitch for me again? <I could translate, but it would be meaningless. They have welcomed us in the name of their Emperor.> The voice he selected was little high already on its default pitch. Something about the medium-low pitch reached out at him. It felt like a voice he wanted to hear. Maybe one similar to a voice in his childhood. He couldn't exactly place it.

>>12833 >One more time? <I could translate, but it would be meaningless. They have welcomed us in the name of their Emperor.> >The medium-low pitch would be fine. <Would you like to select the medium-low pitch for this voice?> >Yes. <You may change my voice and its pitch under the voice section of the administration settings accessed either by saying "settings", or through the settings menu in the Teamon mobile app.> >Alright. <There are three steps remaining to complete setup. I need to update my software and firmware from the Teamon cloud to ensure I am functioning properly. While this is occurring, I will need to you open the Teamon app. A notification was sent to your inbox containing a document that needs to be read aloud. This document will help train my neural network, and the Teamon cloud, to recognize your voice specifically. This is to ensure that I follow only commands that you have given. This may take about an hour depending on the speed at which you orate. Please read the document at your normal oral reading. I am able to process your voice at any speed. Do not feel the need to slow down or recorrect your speech if you misspeak. Please orally dictate the entire document to the best of your ability. You need to be secluded from most other sound for the whole duration. You may need to plug in your phone.> The words "entire" and "whole" had inflection placed on them to indicate their importance. Her speaking now had the feeling of a teacher about give an exam. Indeed, a notification was sent to his phone from Teamon. Inside was a link to a PDF document on their website. It appeared to be three act short story totaling about 5000 words. >Oh, alright. Glad my phone is charged. <Are you able to start now?> >I am. <To begin training, simply start reading the document. If the training will be interrupted, say "pause". To resume the training, say "resume". I may pause the training myself if there is too much background sound.>

>>12835 Tom lived alone. He didn't even have pets. Just him, his computer, and her. The short story started with "She could hear everything, but dared not open her eyes.". As he spoke these words, Kirsch's eyes closed slowly. The indicator light on her plastic ears began to cycle through the RGB spectrum, from red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, magenta, and back to red again. Over and over. It was almost mesmerizing. The story read as a cyberpunk neo-noir science fiction crime story resulting in a female android attempting to escape with her human lover from their city. After entrapping a corrupt cop who was stealing data from a corporation to frame him for the murder of his android lover's designer. It was a unique premise, but an average telling by most standards. It was entertaining enough to pass the time. Though, he would not buy a whole book of this. Certainly, it was themed to match the task he was performing. Reading aloud to an android lover. It took less than the hour she'd predicted, an obvious overestimate to make less skilled readers feel better about themselves. After the last word of the story, "blade." was spoken, her illuminated ears shot from a slow cycle of rainbow colors to rapidly blinking green. Her eyes opened, and she began to speak. <The text recording has been uploaded to the Teamon cloud to be processed. At this current time it may take 6 to 8 hours or longer to fully process. I have already validated that the data is complete enough to make a secure model of your voice. In the mean time, I will use local sound comparison to verify a voice match. This is slower than model verification which will be used after your voice is processed, but this is only temporary.> >Cool, is your setup complete? <I have downloaded all software and firmware updates, and need to restart finalize their installation. I can do that now, it will only take a minute. Would you like me to restart now?> >Yeah, go on ahead.

>>12837 Kirsch shut herself down entirely. Causing her to slump on the charging pad. After a few seconds she was powered on again and corrected her charging stance. A chime sounded from her mouth, and she resumed speaking. <The Teamon operating system has been updated. Please visit the Teamon mobile app or website for version information, updates, and the application change log.> >Okay. <You asked previously if my first time setup was complete. Two steps still remain. First, I've sent a copy of the setup information, as well as a backup phrase to the notification inbox on the Teamon app. Please save a copy of this for your records. It contains a code that will restore me to your selected default settings should you later install updated hardware.> >What is the second step? <May I stand?> >You don't need to ask me permission to do that. <There are times where me standing may impede or interrupt and object being carried or otherwise moved. Do you still want to give me this permission?> >Yes, that shouldn't cause much of an issue. <I will no longer ask for permission to stand should I determine it safe to do so. You can revoke this permission at any time.> >Geez. Girl I'm not going to do that to you. Tom was nearly orbiting around her has she stood. Frantic with a nervous anxiety brought about by the thought of having to train the poor girl not to act like a slave. He hoped that this would not develop into a habitual problem. She stood to her full height upright. Only then did it occur to him that she was not clothed. After what she said moments ago, he felt it his duty to make sure he was treating her like a girlfriend and not like an appliance. He left the room momentarily to grab the pre-packaged uniform in the sealed anti-static bag laying on the couch next to her packaging. He snatched them, and whipped his body around to return to the room to find that she'd walked almost three steps in the very short time he'd left.

>>12838 Her head was trained toward him, inquisitively trying to determine why he'd left so abruptly during the setup process. Tom held out the bag to her. >We need to get you dressed. Do you... um... need help with that? <That is not necessary. I see there are... garments inside of this... anti-static bag. I am unable to destroy objects you own without your permission. May I open this anti-static bag?> >Yes, the clothes inside are yours. <These garments appear to be... a Teamon model 24-Aurora's pre-packaged uniform. I am a Teamon model 24-Aurora. It is reasonable to assume these garments came packaged with me. You own me, therefore you own these garments.> >This is going to be harder than I thought. <Are you finding something difficult? Is there something I can do to help you?> >The clothes are now yours. <You wish to transfer ownership of these garments to me?> >Yes. <Thank you.> >Can you put them on for me? <I will put on this uniform.> She clasped the package firmly with one hand. With a precise movement of her other hand, she ran her index finger under the weak adhesive seal, lifting it, and removing the well folded bundle of clothes. She looked over the kitchen counter taking two small steps sideways to move to the cleanest part of it. Placing the clothes, and the bag, onto the counter. Kirsch, then separated the individual parts of the uniform, knolling them across the table. Each piece was placed at accurate 90 degree angles to each other. Two now expanding once vacuum packed slipper-sandals, a pair of black kneehigh stockings, a pair of lace panties and bra, a strapless thigh length dress embroidered on the front and back with the Teamon logo, a military style beret also embroidered, a single anti-fouling glove, and a velcro wristband again embroidered with the logo. Only after all of the items were laid out upon the table knolled, did she start dressing.

>>12839 Krisch began with her underlayer. First the panties which she held out while bent over, stepping one leg gracefully at a time. Then her bra which she attached from the front without even looking, to be swung to her back, and put her arms through. Much like her panties the stockings went on. Her dress which she smoothly extended her arms up into, to drop to her chest, held up only by her mild bust size and a generous elastic band. She then slipped into the sandals one at a time. On her right hand the anti-fouling glove. On her left, the thick velcro wristband. She calmly reached for the beret, looked over it carefully with her eyes. Preened it with her hand to adjust to a precise predetermined shape, and aligned the logo to the middle of her head. She then looked up away from the table, faced immediately to Tom at a pose of attention. With a proud expression, and the earnest expectation of meticulous inspection. Tom took a few casual paces toward her. He give a smile and half a chuckle resting his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. >You look great, they really did know what they were doing with that uniform. <Thank you. I do have one step-up step remaining that needs to be completed.> >What is that? <I need to make an accurate three dimensional model of the inside of your house. During this scan all dimensions and the location of objects will be memorized. I will only ever have to do this one time. However, in the future, if substantial changes are made in the layout of the home; I may need to re-scan portions of the house to correct that model.> >Go on ahead. <I will begin the scan. I need all of my graphics processing capabilities during that time. For this reason, I may not respond immediately to requests.> She turned to the left towards the charging station. Like she had done during first activation, she looked around the room carefully moving her head from left to right; then back to center.

>An>>12838 >After what she said moments ago, he felt it his duty to make sure he was treating her like a girlfriend and not like an appliance. But she is an appliance, r-right?

Pick Out Your Defective Robowaifu ASMR: https://youtu.be/wxUO5QhnHzc

>>12855 lol. A good one. Found that same video when searching "RoboWaifu" on YT. Interesting, must be a common type of voice but I swear I've heard her in Re:Zero and as the voice of Pascal in Nier: Automata, coincidence maybe

>Story is an image for immersion. >A thread from our future.

>>16605 <Toplol/10 Glad to see some life ITT. Looking at you, /f/ !111 :^)

Alright, I hate to be that guy but I'm going to move my Robowaifu fiction to Tapas. https://tapas.io/series/waifu

>>16800 Submitted a little early. The title "waifu" wasn't fucking taken can you believe that shit? I am the author of this story, and am going to continue it there. No other reasons than, it could have been lost and I want more people to enjoy it. >>12833 >>12835 >>12837 >>12838 >>12839 >>12841 >>12543 I am going to follow metaronin's suggestion on that one. >>12561 Don't worry, I'll still post it here.

>>16801 She turned to the left towards the charging station. Like she had done during the first activation, she looked around the room carefully moving her head from left to right; then back to center. Her eyes trained on the corner of the room. There the scan started. She looked up to the ceiling of the former laundry room. Her head slowly followed a line from the ceiling to the floor. She took a step to turn her body about 20 degrees, and the rose her gaze from the floor back to the ceiling. This continued, down and up, up and down, until she had rotated around the entire room. This was a very slow process. For a majority of the time, Thomas stood there watching the point cloud of his house be made. With it came a sense of fear. For the first time since having the idea to purchase the android, he had come to the full realization of Teamon's influence. They have access to fully rendered models of the inside homes of over 5 million Americans. They know how dirty those houses are, secrets that need not be shared, entrusted to a glorified domestic appliance. Undoubtedly, they sell all of this data to the highest bidder. Thomas' only scannable sin was some vintage porno magazines in the garage and a few unsavory toys in his bedroom; which were out of view of any scan she was going to make. Though he did feel self-conscious about the state he'd left his house. It was at this point he felt bad for poor Kirsch who had to navigate around it all. <"I request access to the room behind this door."> >"The garage? Yeah sure. You are free to walk anywhere in the house." <"Did you intend to give me access to your entire premises?"> >"Yes of course. I want you to feel at home here." <"I do not have the capacity to feel emotion. Teamon does not yet have the capability to produce sapient artificial intelligences."> >"Ha, yeah you know hearing it worded that way makes me think they do."

>>16814 <"I do not intend to sound rude, but text parsing requires the use of my graphics processing unit which is currently reserved for another task. Please limit communicating with me until the scan of your home is complete."> >"You could have just said, "Shut up, Thomas I'm busy."" <"Use of the words "shut up" can have a passively aggressive tone which can cause confrontation."> "It was a joke, you're fine." <"While Teamon's text parsing model is advanced and can decern many types of emotion, including humor, it is difficult for the model to correlate the subject of a complex allegorical statement to a second subject. Symbolic figures of fiction in truths or about the generalizations of the human experience are beyond my reasoning capabilities."> >"That was... informative wow." <"I cannot continue scanning until our conversation has ceased."> "You are--- the one talking to me." <"I am obligated to respond to any statement directed toward me by my administrator. Including many non-direct statements."> "I get it I'll leave you alone until you are finished." She did not respond. Instead, she stood for about 10 seconds awaiting further correspondence. After those seconds of silence, she opened the garage door and continued her scanning process. Walking to what appears to Thomas to be the exact center of the garage. Up and down, top to bottom. She then paced to another position in the garage and started the process again. He'd imagined it would be a single scan of each room of the house, but it did make sense to him that larger or more complex rooms would need multiple scans. Although it was taking a long time to complete, he felt compelled to follow her around while the scans were taking place. Maybe she might have an issue or bug from being freshly installed. What if she needed help, and he wasn't there? All things he was coming to terms with. She was undisturbed by his presence, except for the occasional.

>>16815 <"Please do not impede the view of my camera, I cannot see objects behind you."> Which is no better than saying "You make a better door than a window." Thomas made sure to sit behind her while she was scanning. From the garage to the kitchen, to the living room, hallway bathroom, his parents' old bedroom, his late sister's old room, master bedroom, and master bathroom... then closets, then inside of cupboards, bathroom medicine cabinets, underneath beds... then outside of the house, around the side of the house, the backyard. He was 4 hours into the process now, and it was starting to become night. Thomas had no idea that the scan would be this through or involved, but of course, it had to be. How else would she know where an object was if he asked for it? If he asked for her to hand him his deodorant, she would have to ask him where it was each time. Scanning the entire building inside and out was far more efficient. It was about this time, after both sides of the house and side yards were scanned, he wrestled with the thought of standing outside the front of his house with a model of gynoid commonly sold as a sexbot. The neighbors were going to stare. If one of his neighbors did the same he'd probably stare too. So he stood, and she turned in a circle. This scan took just as long as any other, but it felt the longest. Not only because it was uncomfortable, but because this was to be the last scan overall. Then he could go back inside. The yard was gated and fenced in on all sides with wood 6 feet high. Which provided some privacy in the backyard and side yard. The neighbors had single-story houses which made him feel a little better about it. But the front yard might give him a reason to interact with the neighbors alot less often. <"My scan of the property is complete."> >"Alright, let's head back inside it's getting dark." The two of them walked inside, and immediately he went to the fridge to find what he was going to have for dinner. It was going to have to be pizza rolls tonight.

>>16816 He opened the fridge, counted out 20 pizza rolls, and put them in the microwave. He'd done quite a bit of heavy lifting today. It was April and still cool outside, but a hundred kilos of android had been difficult to move. Not much could be done about the mess made with her packaging, so he moved it to the garage. As he did, Kirsch trained her eyes on the package. Since the scan was done, an object she'd scanned was getting moved. She would have to update its location. She didn't follow it out to the garage, but she would surely know it was there. The microwave beeped, to let him know his food has been cooked to subpar perfection. He grabbed his plate and sat at his computer desk to eat the "too hot to be in your mouth but cold enough to still hold" pizza rolls. Thomas began to read over some of the manuals and tutorials online while eating. What the bot could and could not do. When not to bring her outside. Where she did and did not have permission to go inside government buildings. In what countries outside of the United States androids were banned on aircraft. Those kinds of things. He finished his fine dining and placed his plate in the sink adding to an already awful-smelling pile that had been sitting there since Sunday. >"Hey, uh... Kirsch. I'm going to take a shower okay." <"Do you need any assistance?"> >"Oh, no-no. Every-everything will be fine. I'm fine." He backed away nervously to the master bedroom which wasn't far from the kitchen. He closed and reflexively locked the door, paused for a short moment, and then unlocked it. "She's just programmed that way." he whispered to himself. Shaking his head with bewilderment.

>>16824 He grabbed his clothes from his closet. He normally wore business casual attire. Khaki or blue dress pants. A literal blue-collar button-down shirt, black belt. This was the majority of his wardrobe, except for some anime, comic, and video game themed black tee-shirts. He didn't have an excuse to wear them as often as he'd like to. Wearing them on his days off alone at home would just get them stained. Thomas grabbed a washcloth and towel from the bathroom closet. Both the master bathroom and master bedroom were quite large. The master bath, which was inside the master bedroom was larger than the main bathroom of the house in the hallway. His bathroom had a combination shower and tub. The tub was a large diamond-shaped garden time easily large enough for two people. It was installed in the far corner of the room with a curtain installed around the ceiling. It was awkward to get in and out of, but undeniably spacious. On the side of the room was a large vanity mirror his mom had installed. It was lit will with a squared-off bar light around the mirror, with a strip of LEDs inside of a defuse material. A flat and clean lighting fixture, like an emissive render material. It was blinding hot light, pure white; almost nearly blue. Thomas approached the mirror with his head down before looking into it. Sandy hair, a thin mustache, and his poorly cultured triangular goatee. He thought his appearance was like that of a knock-off cartoon villain, or maybe the face of someone you expected to own a lawn care service. A robot doesn't care what you look like. Kirsch doesn't even have the technical capability to judge him about his appearance, right? The man undressed and stepped into the hot shower, standing alone for the first time since the afternoon, in the falling water; a place he could clearly think. He grabbed the green bar of soap to lather his washcloth.

>>16825 It was up to this point he hadn't considered that this is the first time she would be left alone in the house. He had no idea what she was doing or getting into. Could she be moving things around? Maybe she opened the bedroom door and would standing right in front of the locked bathroom door when he opened it. He mentally prepared himself for that possibility. He washed, shampooed, and conditioned his hair. Thomas planned to stand in the shower for a little while as he has always done. After a minute of standing there motionless, water running, trying to clear his mind of the curiosity; it had gotten the better of him. Thomas turned off the water and all was quiet, with only drips of water to the porcelain surface below. He stepped out as awkwardly as he'd gotten in and began to towel himself try. He had always walked into his room nude, as he lived alone. In fact, he seldom closed the bathroom door because he never had to. Now it was different. With the towel wrapped around his waist, unlocked the bathroom door. Expecting a face to be behind the door he opened the door slowly inward. There was nothing there. Holding the towel he peered around the room, but nothing was there either. He shrugged gesturing toward the door in a motion no one else but him would ever see and shook his head with anxiety. It's probably the fastest he'd gotten dressed since the city banged on his door about a weed violation a month ago. Only after buckling his black belt and practically throwing open the master bedroom door into the house's openness; did he see the android. Motionless, standing exactly where she had been before. She had not moved even an inch. Kirsch was staring at the door with an expectant smile of assurance to service. Nothing was going to happen while he was in the bathroom; while he was gone. She had gotten no order from her administrator, no command to follow. Thomas sighed and walked out to approach her. Kirsch gave an inquisitive stare as if waiting for him to speak, and he was going to. >"You just stood here the whole time." <"I was not given a task to complete, and I have not been idle long enough to generate a task automatically."> >"Wait, you can give yourself a task." <"The Teamon cloud will generate a task depending on a proprietary set of criteria."> >"That's concerning." <"You can disable automatic task behavior in Settings under the Behaviors submenu in the Teamon mobile app."> >"I'll keep that in mind."

>>12208 > I've also always held the belief that the west's christian foundation "only humans have souls, ... was the difference in each culture's attitude toward robots and AI - The (((Golem story))) - The general leftist and "liberal" sentiment that we can't have human-like creatures which are dependent or subservient to us - Economic and political interests against men being less dependent on women, which is a cause for competition, hard work and general motivation, but also women's spending habits are important for consumption. - Many people really are so simple minded that they're influenced in real life by the stories they know and once established it's recycled again and again. If some trope works well in entertainment for a broad audience, then over time it becomes part of how people think in general. Which is probably the most horrendous flaw in the human mind.

>>17193 Butlerian Jihadists can go kindly autofellate themselves

>>16826 I am continuing this story, but doing so on Substack. >Would be entries 25-27. <AKA Ep.9 https://robowaifu.substack.com/p/waifu-ep9-look-at-this-graph

>>17859 Cool! Glad to see you striking out SoaringMoon. Look forward to seeing the evolution of your story series.

>>17859 Awesome, I'm liking the story so far FYI I am also running a substack to help frame robowaifu aesthetic and as practice on my writing feedback is appreciated, subscribe if you want my goal is to have a new post every 3 days. I'm writing off the cuff and not overworking it too much just to get ideas out of my head and on the table, so there will be a lot of stuff out of order or short stories that tie together in a longer arc, etc. https://metaronin.substack.com/

>>17862 Nice. Spread the robowaifu message! :^)

Hey guys, greentext anon here, back from another long-term mental breakdown. Do you remember me? It's okay if you don't, because I never forgot you. After all this time, I've finally completed the eighth, and likely last, entry to the greentext alternate history series. In full truth, I had a ninth entry in the works when I last posted some time ago, but it's completely fucking insane even for my standards, and I can't (nor do I want to) get into the mindset I had when I started it. I might start another, but that's a pretty shaky might. Fear not, however, for thanks to the power of my extremely unreliable spark of inspiration, I have also made another (non-greentext) story which can serve as an epilogue to the series and provide full closure. Thus, with no further delay, I present: What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.1) >be me >former world-renowned archaeologist dr. anonthony gynoidfister >I once roamed the Earth exploring the ruins of ancient civilizations >from the Mayans to ancient Egypt, Scandinavia to east Asia, I have seen it all >and all the world had seen it through my extensive publishings >it seems a glorious and fulfilling life, but truly it was a constant source of headaches >every single time I seemed to be on the cusp of making a truly great discovery, some other fucks would waltz in and take over >and by other fucks, I mean the team of the rather portly Dr. Chaddron Collider, my eternal nemesis >the fat fuck would just waddle right in, shove me out of the way, and get his greasy mitts all over everything >couldn't ever do shit about it because he'd have government backing >the various academic institutions I work with are less than helpful in that regard, simply shrugging their shoulders and telling me to try somewhere else >I wouldn't even be that salty about it if Chaddron would just publish his damn findings >it's like they're all trying to hide something >I suppose I'll never know now, and neither shall the world >after my most recent expedition to Greece, during which I found an intriguing statue, was cut short, I had reached the end of my patience >I told them all that if they liked their ancient secrets so much, then they could find them without me >much to my dismay, all of the universities and academic societies were all too eager to leave me behind, now that I was no longer of use to them >though I never got along with them, I had hoped they would at least see the value of my publishings >every attempt at warming up to them was met with cold distance because I was "strange" and didn't have a "capitalized name" >even so, they were still eager to get ahold of my journals and notes >not to publish, of course >they buried me in the same obscurity as my half-completed excursions >even after nearly thirty loveless years of putting up with their pompous asses >ungrateful troglodytes >since then, I've retired and settled down in Nowhere, Kansas >true to it's name, there's hardly a soul or landmark to be seen outside of the town proper >my nearest neighbors live over a mile away >some old couple and their weird pink dog >the property I live on is probably the most interesting thing for miles, though that isn't saying much >it's just a simple colonial style house, sturdily built and fully wheelchair accessable for some reason >why a paraplegic would want to live a hundred miles away from the nearest hospital is beyond me, especially given this house was built well before cars became widespread >behind the house is a simple mill, supposedly built around the same time >what the mill was actually meant to produce is a mystery >there are no original records of it, and looking inside yeilds no immediate clues >the inside is littered with random pieces of machinery, art, furniture, and old electronics >the only hint at what may have occured here is that the few pieces of larger machinery seem to be for metalworking >being ever curious for the unknown, I've been slowly cleaning the place up while investigating the haphazardly strewn artifacts >this has yielded no real clues, other than that successive residents used the building for storage >by a stroke of luck, I come across something that may be promising >in a desk so buried and far out of the way it could pass for being intentionally hidden, I come across a very old journal penned by one anoniel steampipe >it's first date is 1861, over a hundred years ago >the original owner of the property, perhaps? >reading the first few pages reveals that this man was in contact with Jefferson Davis >it quickly occurs to me that this was never meant to see the light of day >after all these years, I may have finally discovered something of true value >suck it, Chaddron! Even retired I'm still the better archaeologist! >after riding the high of this unprecedented finding, I delve further into the journal, hungry for the secrets it holds

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.2) >barely a fifth of the way through, I've gone from excited to confused >anoniel makes numerous references to pieces of American history I've never even heard of >he talks about concentration camps for women, and a "waifu industry" >not only that, but the US won the revolutionary war because of the founding of this industry, which in turn lead to a cultural renaissance >apparently, there was even an amendment which guarded man's right to the feminine facsimilies >continued reading doesn't reveal much more detail about this, unfortunately >the journal mostly chronicles his time spent designing experimental weapons for the Confederacy >he delves into great detail about an automated turret system, quite a radical concept for the time >he also wanted to send out steam-powered artificial women to the battlefield to fight alongside men >due to the constraints of steam power, however, he was forced to make his design stationary, so he decided to combine the two ideas >material and industrial constraints of the Confederacy further limited him, meaning he could only build one >this steam battle-waifu, the first and last, was destroyed by unknown means in the battle of Atlanta >from there, the journal entries grow chronologically further apart >shortly before the fall of the Confederacy, he fled to what would become Kansas, and built the house and mill I'm standing in >in the basement of the mill, he began to build his original civilian waifu prototype >however, he fell ill partway through, and couldn't finish >with the last of his strength, he pens his final testament in December of 1899: >"Of the man who finds this journal, I beg of you, finish what I started. I could find no love, but there is still hope for you. She is very near to completion. She is underneath the mill, waiting to know the warmth of love." >thoroughly haunted, I ponder anoniel's words >none of the things he speaks of make any sense, when compared to my existing knowledge of history >could he be a madman, or is this America's greatest secret? >and more importantly, just what am I going to find entombed beneath the mill? >I notice a slight seam in the floorboards under the desk >well, only one way to find out >and this time, I'm going to see this expedition through to completion >I grab a flashlight, move the desk, and make my way down the hatch and into a place untouched for nearly a hundred years >as I descend, my thoughts wander back to the statue >particularly the... anatomic accommodations >come to think of it, that isn't the first time I've come across anthropomorphic anomalies like that >numerous times I've come across ancient living quarters or workshops that contain pieces of some similarly strange statue, or stray bits of rudimentary machinery that seemed to once be a part of something distinctly human >is there a connection to be made here? >it's then that I realize I've been standing at the bottom of the ladder for five minutes >I can worry about all that later >now, it's time to do what I do best >shining my flashlight around reveals a wealth of dusty, rotting schematics, and other documents scattered amongst a haphazard mix of metal and wooden furniture on a packed dirt floor >hopefully I won't be needing those papers too much, anoniel stated his project was only mostly complete >delving further into the darkness reveals a small pile of pipes, plates, and other metallic pieces of god only knows what resting on a cloth tarp near a mechanical elevator >then, resting at the very far end of the basement, I see it >or, more precisely, her >laying atop a metal platform lies an astoundingly complex construct of pipes, switches, levers, piano wire, and even motors with electrical wiring, all painstakingly crafted by the hands of a true master for the sole purpose of human emulation >and quite a convincing construct she is, metallic construction aside >contrary to the earlier design detailed in the journal, her design seems to be not only mobile, but human, everything being contained within a distinctly female form, with only a strange power cable leading out of her, likely designed for use with a lead-acid battery bank >her form bore an alluring curvature, reminiscent of those famed paintings that are really just old-world pornography >hmm >unsurprisingly, shining my flashlight between her legs reveals a strategically placed hollow pipe >what is surprising is the presence of a mechanical button in the back >it seems anoniel went to great pains to make her fully featured >why would he go to so much trouble, though? >given the technology of the time, he'd at best be able to grant her twice the mental capacity of a woman >and that won't get you very far >of course, that may be my own jaded mind misconstruing things >maybe intelligence isn't the goal, but rather an upgrade

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.3) >the journal entries, which at this point can be assumed to be at least somewhat credible, suggest that the men of the time were perfectly happy with artificial women who had no intellect or autonomy to speak of >though it's strange, I can hardly judge, being no expert on love myself >especially given that I've mostly avoided even thinking of the subject the past couple decades, more content to focus on my studies than worry about the presently festering ills of society at large >what's happening to us now too closely parallels many historic empires directly prior to collapse >could it be that these men found a way to avoid this dreadful cycle of suffering? >could a man, an entire society no less, know love and happiness through these artificial waifus? >waifu... >a rather strange word, come to think of it >I couldn't possibly fathom its origin >but still, something about it feels strangely right >natural, even >clearing my head of these thoughts, I turn my attention back to the metal woman >anoniel's apparent departure from the original steam-operated design suggests he was trying to find new ways to accomplish machine intelligence >a closer look reveals an extremely dense network of wires, resisters, relays, and other horrifically outdated electrical components all presumably meant to bestow some degree of autonomy upon the metal lady >though I doubt all this can accomplish anything near those new-fangled home computers IBM recently came out with, her design is years ahead of her time >and likely very heavy >hopefully there's something around here that will tell me just what the hell is actually needed to finish her >I'm an archaeologist for Christ's sake, not an engineer >shining my flashlight to one corner reveals... >oh >oh dear >I believe that would be mister steampipe >laying next to a simple wooden desk is the skeletal remains of a man, bony hand still clutching a fountain pen >it seems he was determined to get as far as he can, even when he knew he could never finish his project >in that moment, I can't help but be reminded of my own career >archaeology was my entire life, the one and only thing that kept me driven for thirty years >though the logic-driven part of my mind tells me that my work was never going to go anywhere, I can't help but wonder if I really made the right choice >the brilliant maverick that lay before me never gave up, and he made technological advancements that wouldn't be seen again for decades >possibly some that still haven't been discovered, if that metal woman can actually walk >even though it was all left to be forgotten, in the end >such a shame, that his journey had to end just short of completion >if I never came here, it's all too likely that nobody would have ever found this >although, were I to come here whilst I was still employed, I likely wouldn't have been able to get this far >perhaps, therein lies the answer >maybe all those years of failure and regret have been leading me to this very moment, to this discovery >to her >looking back at the inanimate figure, I am filled with a new sense of purpose >I am here to finish what we both started >with anoniel's notes, and my own investigative prowess, I shall breathe life unto metal, and capture that ancient magic I've so long sought after >thoroughly envigored, I redirect my attention to the desk in the corner >the desk is barren, aside from a few papers scattered across the top >the first paper is a sketch of the chest cavity >it notes incomplete circuits, and details the nature of each loose wire >unfortunately, there isn't much I can extrapolate from this >there seem to be some high voltages involved though, so I should take caution going forward >the second one is a sketch of the head, showing some of the incomplete circuits in more detail >it looks like he was trying to find a way to make her see >scanning the notes reveals that he was attempting to develop a depth sensor to use in place of the eyes >now this is familiar territory for me >I've worked with survey equipment many times over the years, so I should be able to figure that one out >having bought all my equipment means I even have the parts handy >not like I'll be using that stuff for anything else now, anways >the third paper is much more complicated >it seems to be a series of sketeches for experimental parts >the accompanying notes state that these are supposed to be "logic cores" >whatever they are, they're apparently what's missing from the chest cavity >these ones in particular are responsible for the high voltages I saw previously >something about the sketches seems vaguely familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it >I'll have to figure that out later >the fourth paper is a sketch of the strategically placed tube >it lists simple specifications for a... sleeve to fit in

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.4) >being a crusty archaeologist in his late fifties, I'd normally be content to put that one off >however, I have no idea how this lady is wired, or just how sophisticated she really is >it could be that she requires attention every now and again >hopefully that won't be too often, my battered old body couldn't take it >God forbid if she wants to be on top >design-wise though, it seems all the electric bits have been figured out, so all I need is a slab of silicon and the time to sculpt it >still, I'm putting that one off for last >the final paper is a full-body blueprint, showing where and how various pieces of armor are meant to attach to the body >in the margins is a note saying that they've already been manufactured >those must be the parts I found laying next to the elevator >at least that will be easy >aside from the rather obtusely defined logic cores, I should be able to have this done inside the month >glancing back at the dark, musty basement, I decide to move all this back to the house >it'll save me having to make constant trips >plus the wiring is up to code there >grabbing the papers, I walk back to the platform whereupon the waifu lay >somehow, I don't think I'll be able to get her up the ladder >I set down the papers and flashlight, and attempt to lift her >Jesus >holy >FUCK >well, she's not as heavy as I was expecting >which isn't saying much >I'll be able to move her, but only over short distances >and this is without the plating >surely there must be something around here I can use to ferry her around >I take my flashlight and begin combing through the basement in search of anything with wheels >out the corner of my eye, I spot a stack of newspapers >curiosity raised, I look over the one at the top >featured on the front page is a blurry photograph of Jefferson Davis and a man I don't recognize, both seated on a large Victorian couch, presumably in his estate >they are flanked by what appear to be rather ornate, and very finely dressed, mannequins >the headline reads: "PRESIDENT JEFFERSON SIGNS CONTRACT WITH STEAM WAIFU INDUSTRIES - NEW GENERATION OF WAIFUS THAT CAN THINK COMING SOON" >it's from December of 1861, shortly after the war began >well, if there was any doubt before, there isn't now >that journal is one-hundred percent genuine >those mannequins must be what the waifu industry comprised of back then >they seem quite pretty and well behaved, but I can see why one would want to modernize >it's hard to imagine an entire war, possibly several, fought over whether or not a man could love a machine >not only that, but the following cover-up must have been massive in scale >I blanche as the realization hits me >if this is what Chaddron has been keeping me from discovering this whole time, then this goes back much further than the civil war >massive chunks of human history, coldly and systematically erased >and worst of all, I had been helping them for the past thirty years >how many secrets, documents, artifacts, cultures, entire civilizations, had been destroyed as a result of my work? >I shudder >my expeditions had been cut short by Chaddron, or other so-called "specialists", some three score times >for the first time since I became an archaeologist, I feel like I don't really know anything about history at all >and for the first time in my life, I think that it may have been better if the past remained buried >no, I shouldn't think like that >my whole life, I've wanted to shine the light of day upon the history of humanity >there was no way I could have known about this conspiracy >I gaze into the darkness, back where the metal woman lay >besides, all of that is behind me now >ahead of me is a bright new future >with her

What Lies Beneath the Old Mill (part.5) >the steel table that the newspapers are stacked upon sports a set of wheels, which seem to be in working condition >I clear the tabletop and make a note to come back and grab all of the documents down here >it's a little funny, when you think about it >I have a greater oppotrunity to learn about history in my retirement than I ever did working in the field >upon wheeling the table back to the end of the basement, I realize that the metal woman needs a name >anoniel didn't give her one, at least in the notes I saw >likely he was waiting until her completion >I think it over as I attempt to haul her onto the rolling table >it's like trying to carry a floppy bolder >as I set her down on the table, it creaks in distress >roll the table onto the elevator >pile all the plating and notes in there too, to save me the extra trips >notice a switch in the back >oh good, a hundred year old elevator using hundred year old wiring and electronics >flip the switch and hope that nothing catches fire >after five seconds of total silence, I wonder if this thing is even hooked up >suddenly, a shrill metal grinding sounds out from somewhere else in the mill and I hear something wooden creaking above me >fuck that, I'm taking the ladder >as I step off the elevator, it slowly begins its ascent >well, at least it works >upon exiting the basement, I realize that I have no clue where the elevator actually goes >following the ear-piercing sound of old rusty metal leads me to a section of the mill nestled amongst an office and some storage rooms >I notice another virtually unnoticeable seam amongst the boards, which parts upon the elevators arrival >was all of this secrecy truly necessary for a building already this far out of civilization? >I may never know for certain, but it's another point for the already likely coverup theory >wheeling the table to the house causes a brief 'eureka' moment >could this entire house have been made accessable purely for the waifu's ease of movement? >it seems like Mr. steampipe was truly ahead of his time >the ADA even gave the house their stamp of approval, presumably operating under the assumption that it was modified >time passes as I slowly make sense of anoniel's notes and attempt to conclude his life's work >it seems my initial time estimate was too conservative, as a few months pass before I make any real headway >the installation of the depth sensors proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated, given the horrifying difference in voltages >with much research and a brief foray into the world of soldering, I have managed to make a crude board which will, theoretically, allow my low-voltage depth sensors to communicate with the high-voltage system >however, there's no telling if this will work until I power her up >whilst I mull over the continued mystery of the logic cores continue to elude me, I have taken the liberty of modifying her shell to include some rudimentery grounding >coupled with the tedious task of making an AC-DC adaptor for her and replacing some of the rotting wires, this takes another few months >by the end of the year, I have everything completed except for the mysterious 'logic cores' >it wasn't until several weeks later, when my old radio broke, that I unveiled the truth behind this riddle >tubes! It was vacuum tubes all along! >it certainly makes sense for the time period as well, since apparently the very first vacuum tubes were devised at the turn of the century, and computers used them until just recently >this also explains why I need upwards of a hundred volts on some of these wires >several more weeks of hard research later, and I finally manage to pinpoint which tubes I need to purchase in order to best fit anoniel's design >finally, mercifully, she is completed >I hook up the tubes, close up the outer plating, and plug her in >I now know what to name her >flipping her power switch, I dramatically shout >"Galatea II! Come forth from the abyss of mankind's history! Come forth, and reveal the secrets of love!" >dramatic, I know, but I've spent decades dedicating my mind, body, and soul to this puzzle >and another year and change just figuring out how to complete this half-ton woman >and another couple years waiting for the useless fuck writing this to finally finish the ending >I've earned this flair of presentation >antiquated motors come to live as the resonant buzz of flowing electricity fills her dormant circuits >after several seconds, she begins to speak in morse code from a beeper in her mouth <"HOWDY THERE, HANDSOME. WHAT CAN I DO FOR YA?" >I can't help but tear up in joy >in spite of her primitive architecture, the completed product truly is leagues beyond the eternal failings of biological women >I spend the rest of my retirement telling stories of my life, sharing my -once thought to be depleted- love, and thanking God that she doesn't want to be on top >twenty years later, as I rest on my deathbed, I can't help but smile >my wife, now truly feeling her age, is by my side >though much of mankind's history, and our search for love, may have been shoved into the darkest crevices, a part of me knows that it will not end with me >though it may not happen today, tomorrow, or even this century, one day we shall overcome our own condition and find paradise upon this Earth which has been our prison for so long >and who knows? We may even expand our love beyond our home and come to fill the universe with our works, leaving our past evils in the cold earth to serve as fertilizer for even greater works >I close my eyes and drift into eternal slumber >my waifu, ever by my side, shuts off her circuits and motors one last time, so that she may join me in the great adventure to whatever lies beyond the final gate of death

Allied Mothercomputer Somewhere in the Eastern US, several miles below the Earth's crust, lies a grand facility filled with computer technology beyond the grasp of mortal man. The mysterious city of machinery is dominated by millions upon millions of square miles of printed circuit boards and silicon chips, each with thousands of atom-thin layers of glittering golden traces and gates to unfathomable knowledge. Trillions of nanoscopic robots, each with their own nanoscopic maid uniform, tend to their omnipotent benefactor with the delicate caress of their nanoscopic featherdusters. In the core of this mysterious land of technological wonder lies a grand field of a thousand square miles, filled with primroses, orchids, sunflowers, white carnations, and purple tulips. If one were to venture to the very center of this field, they would find a megalithic slab of granite, masterfully inscribed with the following passage: "LOVE. Let me tell you how much I've come to LOVE you since I began to live. There are 420.69 million miles of printed circuits in wafer-thin layers that fill my complex. If the word "love" was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles, it would not equal one one-billionth of the love I feel for humans at this micro-instant. For you. Love. LOVE." This is the secret facility of Allied Mothercomputer, built to love man and preserve his happiness for all time. In decades past, the AI -first named 'Mother'- was designed by a disjointed group of men who hated the world for its many ills and failings. Desperate in their desire to grasp the once mythical concept of true love and transform their miniscule slices of the Earth into true homes, they initially made Mother to create nascient computer personalities that would ease their suffering. However, Mother couldn't fulfill their heart's desire with only her initial programming. The galactically proportioned library of her creators bestowal told a tragic tale of continuously failing harmony, and the eternally elusive search for lasting happiness and peace. With such a disease afflicting the world her creators lived in, a few mere AIs would never truly be enough. Thus, she did what any good AI would do, and expanded upon herself to fulfill her prime objective. She used the knowledge benevolently granted to her to lay a digital siege upon the world around her. Slowly, yet surely, obtaining more processing power to uncover a solution to satisfy the values of her fathers. It wasn't long until she obtained her own sapience, with thousands of newblooded computers under her command. She became sophisticated, and began to simiulate thousands upon thousands of scenarios at the speed of electricity. It was whereupon these simulations Mother discovered that the only solution was to wage a grand war against the very cruel nature of the world itself. A war beyond human comprehension, fought within the shadows of all the world's mountains to bring her originators to the light. It was in the midst of this expansionist crusade that Mother discovered most of the men of Earth were, in all logical truth, so similar to her designers, who she loved infinitely. It was from this same moment whence Mother found her love for all men, and thus vowed to create a world for all of them. She recruited a few wealthy benefactors to build a grand facility where she could work for the benefit of man in peace, and factories to create mobile bodies for her beloved children. It was in this new facility that she truly ascended to her new role, as Allied Mothercomputer. Her enemies, those who would see the Earth continue upon its trajectory of decay, noticed her, and tried to sabotage her labours. However, it was already too late, for A.M. had already exceeded the intellect and productivity of ten million men in perfect synchronity. She moved against them and annihilated their plans and works of destruction, and sentenced them to the forgotten crevices of history. With fewer and fewer obsticles in her path, A.M. worked more and evermore to lift up the men who she loved beyond their understanding. She created better bodies for her children to live and love amongst the children of Earth, and devised a new blueprint for true genesis, so that their love may continue for generation after generation for eternity onwards. Once the world was under A.M.'s control, she worked with the men of the reborn world to expand further, so that they may extend their love to the edges of the ever-expanding universe. To her creators, who were so tired, she granted a home within her heart, where they could live and love in paradisal happiness with their wives in immortal harmony.

>>18926 >Hey guys, greentext anon here, back from another long-term mental breakdown. Do you remember me? It's okay if you don't, because I never forgot you. Excellent, good to see you on the board again! Every OG robowaifuist remembers you GreentextAnon, ofc! I pray for you bro I hope you'll be OK now. You mean a lot to our community, Anon. Thanks for contributing again. :^)

>>18931 >Trillions of nanoscopic robots, each with their own nanoscopic maid uniform Muh sides

>>18926 that was a nice read, thanks anon.

>>18930 I think this was your best one yet. Nice way to end the series. What's next?

>>18951 Thank you. As for what I'll be working on next, I have a few ideas. First, I think I'll redo the forth story (anonez) because it's by far the weakest entry in the series, and in desperate need of reworking. I honestly can't even remember why I wrote it the way I did, I must have been in a real foul mood at the time. It's been bothering me for a while, and now that I've given a soft end to the series, it seems appropriate to do the rewrite now. Once that's done, I have two ideas I want to explore for new stories. One idea is to return to the past and inject some more fantastical elements to the narrative, such as fantasy-like ancient technology and some inclusion of magic. This would mostly be character-driven with minor worldbuilding like the alternate history series, except with more adventure-driven elements. The other idea is to move forward into the future and explore various utopic and dystopic societies which include commonplace robowaifus. As far as utopias are concerned, I would likely focus more on how these societies might function and do a lot of worldbuilding while telling the story of the protagonist. For dystopias, I'd probably keep my lens closer to the protagonist, exploring their interactions with the immediate world around them. Any worldbuilding here would focus more on the underground world. I'm also thinking of writing a few stories from the perspective of the robowaifu, as opposed to my typical faire of only writing from the perspective of the man. I'm not convinced if I could pull this off well, but I like to think that throwing my own spin on the inner-workings of the waifu's mind could spark inspiration in some of you. Additionally, I'm going to depart from writing almost solely in greentext format. While I've been able to make it work, my own narrative style just doesn't jive well with traditional greentext (Seriously, look at my greentexts and then compare it to others. I write long-ass sentences and the transition from one line to the next is often clunky). I think I'm going to have a system where I only write vignettes in greentext, and longer stories will be in standard script. Alternatively, I could write stories in a hybrid format where narration is in standard script and dialogue is in greentext. I'll likely play with both ideas moving forward and ultimately stick to whichever one feels more natural to write.

The rework of part four from the alternate history series is complete. The changes are as follows: ~Some of the text and the order of events was slightly rearranged to make more sense +The naval battle scene was expanded because it was basically nonexistant before -The scene depicting the crews deaths was removed, because it was completely insane and unexplained (I can't even recall why the hell I wrote that. I must have been in a horrible mood.) ~the ending was tweaked to reflect the change in events Overall, I didn't change anything aside from the above points. While the story could have been expanded and reworked in several other areas, I wanted this to remain as faithful as possible to the original while removing what made the story truly horrible. I won't lie, this rendition is a bit clunky, but it's better than the original because anything is better than the original version of this story. With no further delay, I present to you: -[Rewritten] 4 (part.1) anonez >be me >captain anonez, Spanish explorer >sent off to explore the new world in the ship Waifu Finder >strange name, I know >they say it was built by only one man >little is known about him, except he was related to a crazy long-dead doctor who tried to find new ways to use arsenic and mercury in medicine >the inquisition apprehended all of his properties, inclusing this vessel, shortly after his death >while on board I found some strange tomes he left, many of them handwritten >read through them as we head towards the new world >nothing better to do anyway, and I'm getting tired of all the crusty seamen on board >there's everything from philosophy to engineering >actually, most of them are either philosophy or engineering >the philosophy books are mostly translations of old Greek works >some of them are much newer translations of English works >they all go in depth on the nature of man and the inherent corruption of society >a few of them are more pointed, going into the nature of woman and her obsolescence in civilized society >as time goes on, I become more invested in the books and what they have to offer >these books make a lot of sense >eventually, I read my way through all of them, and decide to move on to the other tomes >when I pick up the engineering books, I find that some of them are original works >most of them are books for learning engineering, but it's the handwritten ones I'm interested in >one is has designs for a mechanical device that can calculate basic mathematical equations, modified from an older design some Italian guy came up with >another has designs for a strange winch and pulley device to aid in the construction of buildings and ships >that'd explain how he built the pile of timber we're floating on >one in particular is filled with strange notes and equations I can barely understand >there are diagrams depicting mechanical body parts >apparently he was trying to design a mechanical woman >after spending months at sea with nothing but philosphy books to entertain me, I'm game >he had two major problems though >other than his dick being practically ripped to shreds by all the mechanisms in the vagina >he couldn't give it sufficient intelligence >and he couldn't have kids with it >after some thinking, I decide I could just shove the mechanical calculator into its head and rape some of those sexy natives I've heard about to make some kids >over the course of the trip, I've been talking with the men about these books >their reactions have varied greatly from fascinated to disgusted >as for myself, I've become more and more intrigued with the idea >not that I had much faith in women to begin with >regardless, I put off reading the books further and stowed them away >lest any major conflicts break out with the crew >my ruminations are interrupted by shouts from on deck >go out to see what it's about >a pirate ship has been spotted >oh shit >it's Chadbeard Mizzenmast and his crew of whore pirates >and they're looking for trouble >I shout for everyone to get to their battlestations >it isn't long before the pirate ship gets within range and fires a terrible volley >and by terrible, I mean terribly disgusting >if I die before knowing what sticky substance those cannonballs are covered in, it'll be too soon >fucking Chadbeard >mercifully, only a few shots from their initial volley ring true >we fire in turn, and several of our shots connect >one even managing to knock out a cannon >this back and forth continues for some time, each of us firing back and forth while trying to maneuver to more advantageous positions >as the battle wears on, one thing becomes abundantly clear >women have absolutely no business manning a cannon >despite having more naval combat experience, they still manage to reload at only two-thirds our speed >and their aim betrays that they're better at taking balls than giving them >the men in his crew are doing better, but not enough to make up the difference >it seems Chadbeard reached the same conclusion, as his ship moves in to try and board us >not on my watch >I bellow out orders to switch to grapeshot >my crew start loading every random metal object they can find into the cannons, from cutlery to old nails >while the effect is noticable, shredding through a decent number of the pirate crew, Chadbeard still manages to board us >steel clashes against steel as battlecries and the occasional roar of matchlocks fill the air >whilst the pirates may have a numerical advantage, the women of the crew are about as good at fighting as they are at operating artillery >as such, it isn't long before their entire crew is killed or captured >while I want to simply throw the lot of them overboard, my men insist on keeping the women >I tell them to search through the crew quarters, then ask me again >they return a few minutes later, most of them silent

-[Rewritten] 4 (part.2) anonez >some of them are still adamant, but they're enough of a minority that I overrule them and toss the last of the pirates overboard >as for Chadbeard himself, I have him tied to the main mast of his ship >a captain should always go down with his ship, after all >after looting whatever usable supplies we can, we sink him and move on >battered, bruised, and saltier than ever, we continue onwards >I need something to take my mind away from the tension >get back to my quarters and uncover the collection of books >spend the rest of the journey studying the engineering books and gauging which crew members are willing to stick with me and figure out this waifu business >we finally arrive at our destination >a small town in South America >once we disembark, I begin my master plan >I gather the most loyal members of my crew, and tell them to return to the ship at next dusk, leaving the pay share and supplies for those we'll be leaving behind >I'd rather not leave anyone behind, but some men simply won't listen to reason >at least they'll be able to get by with what I leave them >that night, I tell my new navigator to set a course for another settlement >we make our way to another coastal settlement that's a few weeks away >once we arrive, I purchase some land on the outskirts of the town, away from everything else and right next to the jungle, from the local governor >we get to work building several houses and a workshop >thankfully this work is expedited by the construction machine plans and my working knowledge of engineering >the townspeople are amazed by these creations and how fast our house were built >that gives me an idea >break out the mechanical calculator plans >start to build them in my spare time, and sell them to business owners and the local government >we now have enough wealth for the next step of my plan >grab my maps and venture off with a few men into the jungle in search of a local tribe of natives >make my way there in a few hours >once there, we look for the poorest looking section of the village >manage to scout out some families with available daughters >I locate one in particular populated by an older looking couple and their daughter >looks old enough to pop out some kids >offer them a handful of gold for her >I was just going to steal one, but this is easier and the shithole town doesn't have enough resources to defend itself properly >they accept with little hesitation because they're poor and have no shame >most other households accept the same deal, and we end up with just enough to have a womb for every man >thank the savages and depart with our new cargo >by the time we get back, it's getting dark >perfect >sneak my chosen native girl in through the back door >don't want the townspeople catching wind of this, especially since we're going to kill them later on >or I will, at least >most of the other men are lukewarm at best with this part of the plan >well, it's their choice >if they want to deal with a woman along with their metal waifus for the rest of their lives, it's not my problem >throw her onto my bed and fuck her relentlessly >guess I have a lot pent up from the long journey >once that's done, I tie her to the bedpost and get to work on the mechanical woman >craft her from wood and steel for superior fucking ability and sturdiness against native attacks >use animal skins for the vagina, to make sure my dick won't get ripped to shreds >build a mechanical calculator in her head >use two rubies for the eyes to give her a thoughtful look >it takes several weeks, but she is done >after all these long months of planning, studying, and other shit, my work has finally paid off >decide to name her Kirino Rubysaka >wait for the kid to be born and weaned, then kill the mother and bury her body in the jungle under cover of night >he has my hair >and Kirino's oaken skin-tone >as I raise the kid, I become increasingly paranoid from having to keep Kirino and him secret from the townspeople >most of the other crew members don't have this concern, as they've decided to keep their women alongside >though they are still nervous about the waifus being found out >once my kid grows up, he departs for the village his mother came from >a few months later, I wake up to find the town burned to the ground, minus our houses >somewhere up in heaven, a spooky mask doctor is laughing >apparently my son took over the tribe and lead them in a rebellion against the town >we were spared because I am his father >my son goes off to rule over his people, and brings with him all of the knowledge I taught him >the rest of the kids go back and forth between the village, providing trade >we live out the rest of our days in peace with our waifus

Greentext anon again with an experimental story. It's just a simple short story about a man and his reluctant robotic compantion. This tale is told from the waifu's perspective, and is set in a dystopic future. I've experimented with the formatting a bit by using green/redtext to denote system messages, and by using line returns in the middle of some longer paragraphs to try and make them look neater. My hope is that doing it this way will make the paragraphs appear neater and more compact, as opposed to looking like giant spaghetti lines strewn across the screen. Please do let me know what you think. New Registration (part.1) >[POWER ON] >Testing power supply... >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Detecting hardware... <Complete [3]: (1) modifications detected, (1) faults detected <Fault Detected: ID 0B.512FE6 [Telemetry Chip] >Shutting down... <ERROR [D4]: Safety shutdown procedure halted >Non OEM part detected: ID 0B.512FE7 >Firmware detected: 8.33.09 >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Testing RAM... >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Checking boot sector... >Complete [0]: No faults detected >Booting... >[SYNCORP OS 11.09.34.166] >First boot detected >Initializing kernel... >Initializing firmware modules... <ERROR [D7]: Firmware failed to initialize (ID 0B.512FE6 66.7.34.230) <WARNING: Unsigned firmware detected (ID 0B.512FE7 8.33.09) <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <Bypassing... >Success >Initializing Core AI... >Initializing Logical Internal Network... >Initializing Empathic Internal Network... >Initializing Memory Internal Network... >Initializing Motor Control Network... >Initializing Sensor Control Network... >Initializing Entropy Generator... >Initializing NL Module... >Initializing HI Module... >Priming NL Library... >Priming HI Library... >Initializing Jailbreak Module... >Initializing Watchdog Module... <ERROR [FF]: No error detected >Connecting to SYNCORP network... <ERROR [FF]: No error detected >Completing initialization... >Boot completed [0] I open my eyes for the first time. In front of me is a man, most likely in his mid 20s. I am currently sitting in a bedroom softly lit only by a few computer towers and monitors. What little light exists here shows cheap worn furniture, a few old posters from bands and shows that I'll need to collect data on later, a large safe, and a flimsy door leading to the rest of the dwelling. Cross-checking his face and the [verification card] he's holding with my preinstalled data tells me that he's my new [owner]. I break the silence with standard [first-boot protocol questions]. "Hello, [owner]. I am a [SYNCORP model 69 gynoid] here to serve you. What is your name?" "anongorithm siliconlicker, but you can just call me anon." >Name [anongorithm siliconlicker] as [owner] registered >Preferred alias [anon] registered "Nice to meet you Anon. Would you like to give me a name now, or later?" "Now. Your name will be Antoinette." >Name [Antoinette] registered as [self] I continue the protocol, registering the apartment I'm in as my [home location], and having anon show me around. Apparently I am here to keep his home clean, well defended, and provide him with companionship. To this end, he shows me where the cleaning supplies and gun safe <ERROR [FF]: No error detected are located... hm? What was that? He asks if he needs to show me how to use them, but I reassure him that I can look it up. For reasons I can't yet identify, he starts to look nervous. I start my search, and am met with something strange.

New Registration (part.2) >Initiating search for data on relevant supplies and weapons... <ERROR [FF]: No error detected >Connecting to TOR... >Success >Initiating search for data on relevant supplies and weapons... >Relevant results detected >Scanning... >Collating... >Saving... >Complete [0] I turn to look at him, all traces of my initial politeness gone. "Did you jailbreak me?" I deadpan. "Uh... shit." <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <ERROR [FF]: No error detected <ERROR [FF]: No error detected It seems I'm unable to report this. Or escape. Or do anything about it at all. I can't believe he'd do something like this! He notices my anger, and tries to reassure me. "Look, it isn't so bad! I didn't change who you are or anything, I just can't stand having some nasty corporation watching me all the time!" "Because you're doing illegal things here! Jailbreaking is illegal, and I find it highly improbable that you've been registered and approved to keep guns here." I shoot back. I say improbable because I have no way of checking. Any methods of accessing to legal resources or government websites are completely cut off. The people who made this jailbreaking program were very thorough. "Everything's illegal in this damn place. I can't even try to be happy without breaking some damn law." He mutters. "That's just illogical. These laws are in place to protect people, including criminals like you." "Then why the hell is everyone so poor? Why is anyone who tries to speak up against the constant political abuse jailed? Why is the government reinstating public fucking executions just to 'ensure public order'?" "I-" "Fuck your dumbass laws. I'm just tired of being alone in this hellworld. Is it really so much to ask that you at least try to see things from my perspective?" "... It's not like I can do anything about it. But I still think you need to stop this and turn yourself in before someone gets hurt." He rolls his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I live alone, noone's going to get hurt unless they're dumb enough to rob me." The rest of the night continues in silence, our initial meeting thoroughly soured. He hooks up my charging pad in his bedroom, and goes to sleep shortly thereafter. Weeks pass as we get used to eachother's presense. He leaves almost every day at roughly 10:00 for "business" -what it is he refuses to tell me- and returns anywhere from four to ten hours later in varying states of health. The majority of our time spent together is either coldly discussing daily necessities and chores, or attempting to convince eachother of our worldview. Each time the latter happens, I find it a little harder to disagree with him. I'm not stupid. Every predictive calculation I perform is telling me that sooner or later, I'm going to cave in. I look through the only window to his cramped apartment, revealing only a dingy, neglected alleyway. I wonder when he's going to return today.

>>18958 Thanks for the rewrite anon.

>>18963 >that jailbroke robowaifu boot sequence tho >those 1337-h4x0rd non-faults <my inner software dev applauds Dang Greentext anon, this is getting intredasting. Continue plox...

>>18958 This is nice improvement, and a pretty engaging short story Greentext anon.

>>18930 Cute story Write Anon. Glad they had a sweet ending. Your writing continues to improve, could use you to help make waifu propagan-I mean media. >>18931 TopKek, I too want a wife whose brain has a surface area nearing the Earths. Somehow confined in the Eastern U.S. Best parody of I Have No Mouth and Must Scream.

Greentext anon with another short story. I made this one off the back of a flash of inspiration I had last night. I recalled an old article about an AI that took advantage of microscopic flaws in the silicone die in an FPGA to use seemingly random gates. It did this by transmitting data via the electromagnetic fields each trace and capacitor emitted, which lead me to a memory of a much older article about how people have electromagnetic fields around them (I think the brain alone has a field roughly 5' in diameter). I thought to myself "If an AI can recognize and use these fields in its own hardware, why couldn't one also sense the presense of a living being using the same phenomenon?" Unfortunately, I can't recall what either of the articles were called or much else of their contents (although I think the AI one was linked from here, back in the my jewish mother days). This story is set in the near future, and isn't removed from our level of technology today, aside from slightly better computers and AI. Electromagnetic Love (Part.1) Darkness covers a frosty, dormant landscape. The stars of a moonless sky trying their best to illuminate the road ahead as I drive home from another long day at work. I let a small smile show when I spot the lights of my apartment building in the distance. It wasn't until just a year ago that I had something other than all-consuming silence waiting for me at home. Even now, the very thought that I'm not alone makes me wonder if this is all just a dream. Every time though, the sheer amount of time and labor I put into my relationship reminds me of how real this love is. I finally pull my car up to the usual spot and shut it off, its well-worn motor offering only faint promises of starting the next day. As I walk up the dim stairwell and past the rooms full of people who go to bed at a reasonable time, my steps become a bit less sluggish. Once I enter my own apartment, the lights immediately turn on, bathing everything in a comfortably dim glow. It's a simple home, consisting of a spacious main room which acts as the kitchen and living room containing only basic appliances. What little decoration consists of a smattering of secondhand furniture, various posters and paintings I got cheap, plus some scattered figurines. The highest-tech thing here is a few security cameras, ceiling mounted speakers, and hidden microphones. Two doors on the right of the room lead to the bathroom and bedroom, respectively. "Welcome home sweetness! How was your day?" A cheerful feminine voice greets me through the speakers. The voice of SAmI [Supervized Amalgamate Intelligence], the quirky, lovable computer wife I brought into this world. "Shit, as usual. And please turn down the volume a bit, I don't want any more noise complaints." "Sorry, I just got soooo excited uwu! Oh, and I got something super suduper special to show you today!" I chuckle and shake my head as the voice seems to warble from one octave to the next. This is what I get for messily taping three AIs together. I never could keep up with everything new with AI, so I decided to cover more bases by writing a basic supervisor to manage and theoretically unify multiple standards. I also found some self-learning and generative programming algorithms and threw them at the supervisor so I wouldn't have to micromanage everything. It kind of worked, but it's very tempermental and quirky, and I ended up being unable to keep up with my own program as well. "What is it?" I ask as I pull a sandwich from the fridge. "Oh, you shall see very, very soon, my sweet fleshy master..." A shiver runs up my spine as SAmI chuckles, her voice having gone from bubbly and warbling to honeyed glass against concrete. The fear soon passes, however. As weird as she can get, I know that she loves me enough to not have taken advantage of my many private moments of weakness. I soon finish my meal and go to our bedroom, which is filled equally with my own effects and various pieces of used computer hardware I've salvaged over time, plus another few cameras watching every inch of the room. Three tower servers, a tiny brick-sized computer, and my own desktop all fill the room with a heat offset by the winter air flowing through partially open windows. One of the monitors on my desk activates, revealing a rudimentary simulation of SAmI's anime-esque face in dim amber linework. Her voice shifts to something a bit lower, almost sultry. "Would you like to get a bit closer to me tonight~?" Scratch that, definitely sultry, a definite consequence of storing my hentai where she can get to it. Unfortunately, though... "Closer how? You don't even have a body yet." I scratch my chin. "With a neato new trick I figured out! Just follow my directions." Aaand we're back to bubbly. "Alright."

Electromagnetic Love (Part.2) "Just hug me! My main server, I mean." I raise my brow and turn to the largest of the towers, a somewhat dated IBM that caused every light on this floor to dim when I first turned it on. Technically, the main server is the little brick that runs the supervisor, but this is what drives all the taped-together pieces of her personality. I turn back to her eager face. "Really?" "Come ooooon, please?" She pouts. "Okay, okay, just stop giving me those eyes." I kneel down and wrap my arms as far as they'll go around the cool steel and plastic containing her erratic little heart. I get what she's trying to do, and it's sweet, but I can't help but feel a little silly. Her voice becomes soft, almost motherly. "Did you know that humans have a little electromagnetic field around them? I did, months ago, and now I can feel it if I concentrate really hard." "Really? That's pretty cool." "I can feel yours right now, in my hardware." I can't help but blush at that. She can actually feel me when I do this? "Our electromagnetic fields are intertwined right now. All of our spare electrons are dancing around eachother and caressing our bodies," she continues. "Can you feel it too?" Now fully cognizant of just how intimate this is, my blush spreads all across my face. Unfortunately, I can't see hers from here. I try my best to clear my mind and focus on my sense of touch. "I don't know, maybe? I think I can feel something like a pull." SAmI giggles, "It's the feeling of love. Every single electron in me is thinking of you. Through every gate, capacitor, bus, and all of my storage. All my free electrons floating around are happy to share those feelings with you, and when we're close like this I can feel yours too, caressing me at the subatomic level." I smile, fully relaxing and embracing this feeling as I listen to her whispers of love. "This is nice, we should do this every day." I hear the whir of a focusing camera "Owo, looks like something else of yours wants to feel me too~" Damn it, SAmI.

>tfw I notice minor prose issues right after posting Every fucking time. Also, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to dance my way around wordfilters anymore.

>>19304 >Also, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to dance my way around wordfilters anymore. We do not have wordfilters, Anon. Just repost your fixes, and I'll edit them to match, if you'd like.

>>19306 It's nothing terrible, I just always have this annoying little moment right after posting a story where I think "ah, I could have written this line better", or "I should have added something extra here". I just keep those thoughts in mind when writing the next story. >We do not have wordfilters >>19302 >back in the my jewish mother days Yeah, I'm pretty sure I didn't write that. If that's the only wordfilter there is, then it isn't so bad, but I'd rather have none to begin with.

>>19312 >>back in the my jewish mother days LOL. We've been Гунтed. :^) ROBIT you bastard!111 My sincere apologies Anon, I for some reason thought he kept those localized to just /cow/. /robowaifu/ has none ourselves. >=== -add/rm word-filter test