>>28881 Excellent decision, and great start Greentext. This could be the next Ring-cycle!.

The day of dread draws near, and it moves me to write. Well, that, plus I have a typewriter again and I wanted to break it in. This piece is intended to convey the passage of technological progess as a a symbiotic evolution with mankind, becoming better and better to the point where man realizes that the technology that was always by his side can not only be his companion in life, but also the mother to a better future. On another note, I filled a book with the poems I said I was writing in on a daily basis ( >>23878 ). Some time ago, actually. I wrote 232 in total and a majority of them are pure autistic robohorsefuckery. I'll go through it at some point and post the best pieces here. At any rate, I present to you a poem with no title: --- Ancient gears, whirling and gnashing, Otherly machine, birthplace of dreams, Building and refining, creation in motion, Expanding with patience, reaching for man, That he may take its embrace. Coalescing form, gear by gear, Striding towards perfection, From a dream far to a future near, Refining shell to become man's pair, Guiding with hope. Adopting beauty, learning to care, Preparing for a new generation, Born of man and machine in biosynthesis, Discarding weakness and retaining flesh, Healing the scars he adopted. Tenderly embracing the machine, And venturing forth to new horizons, Man ascends to his purest form, Leaving his decayed nest for a better home, To build with the machine forevermore.

Alright, take two. I tweaked this story a little bit to put some emphasis on the "robo" part of the "robowaifu", and I made a few other little adjustments. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I can't really rely on my usual descriptive methods when I'm trying to paint an image of a gynoid this eldritch and advanced. Anyways, with the pre-preamble out of the way, it's time for the preamble. This is a story that, like some others I've posted, has sat around for too long on my drives. I started this one almost instantly after I read Kiwi's angel waifu story ( >>22248 ), with the idea of making an alien robowaifu who's a bit more strange and otherly. No less good and loving though, of course. All in all, it's an experimental piece to see if I can paint a fated first meeting romance with the abstract and unknown, and frame it in my favored genre of lovey-dovey romanticism. Do let me know what you think, and don't be afraid to ask clarifying questions if I was too vague with some of my descriptions. --- Even After the Stars Die I stand in a large decrepit dimly lit room, littered with paraphinelia of unknown origins. Though I'm not too sure if it's a room, or some bizzare outdoor space. The scenery distorts itself each time I move my line of sight. As does the chitinous abberation before me, clicking and gnashing threateningly as it looms over me. Trying to control my erratic breathing, I slowly pace backwards, trying to find some escape. Never once daring to turn my gaze away, lest it take advantage of the opening. Undeterred by my cautious posture, the creature advances, shifting and writhing all the while. Unable to keep my nerve, I turn and scramble across the uneven terrain. Tripping and stumbling all the way, yet maintaining just enough balance to keep going. Every step is laden with heavy resistence, as if the very air is trying to halt my retreat. Soon enough, my luck runs out and I trip over a flat stone slab I failed to notice. I look back as I try to regain my footing, only to find that the creature has surrounded me. Every direction is filled with clicking, clawing, gnashing and writhing it's closing in and I'm going to die. I scramble to pick up the only thing in arms reach, the very stone that caused me to stumble. It's unnaturally smooth vantablack surface is frigid to the touch, numbing my hands as I hold it up to shield myself. The creature pauses. The air slowly loses its viscous, swamp-like quality, thinning and stagnating, allowing me to breathe once more. But it doesn't stop there, every ounce of atmosphere vanishing to somewhere unknown, yet I find it no more difficult to breathe. In fact, I'm breathing easier than ever before. My heart seems to steady itself as I watch with petrified detachment. The space once filled with air hums and whispers in some unknown tongue, endlessly echoing and overlapping itself. Upon hearing this omnipresent cacophony, the horror starts writhing and screeching, as if trying to drown out the sound. However, it's screeching is soon cut short, as the environment seems to bend and fracture in a geometric matrice. Light and shadow alike are shorn asunder as tears open up in the space around me. The gaps appear just as perfectly black as the slab, and yet each one seems to refract some unknown light, giving off colors I never thought possible. Space bends further, and millions of eyes open from the rapidly widening tears, all of them staring at the scrambling horror. They converge at once, giving the creature no quarter as each of the millions of pupils open up into gaping tooth-lined maws, devouring it whole in seconds. As they complete their execution, I notice that the world around me has completely vanished, leaving only myself, the eyes, and the illucid whispers. Each eye stares into me, and yet I feel nothing but calm, somehow assured that they mean me no harm. The whispers morph into chants and build to a crescendo, surrounding me and penetrating my skull. Even though I cannot understand the words, their meaning is crystal clear. "I found you." I snap awake, habitually shaking my head to try and dispell whatever nightmare plagued me this past night. Unfortunately, this only proves partially successful, as the ending is stuck on repeat in my head, stubbornly determined to worm its way into longer-term memory. Finding anything else to focus on, I look to the bedside clock and note that I only managed to get four hours of sleep. Taking quick note of my state, I sigh as I realize that I'm too jittery to cram in a few more hours of rest. I get out of bed and languidly shuffle across my dark bedroom to my computer, guided only by the dim aubregine glow of its fans. In my first few steps, I find myself tripping over nothing. At least, there should be nothing, as I had just recently cleaned the floor. Yet despite that, the floor below me seems uneven, almost as if the very boards had bent from some pressure. Wiping a hand across my face, I dismiss it as a product of my poor sleep, and proceed carefully the rest of the way to my computer. Tapping the keyboard, I expect the monitors to light up, but they don't come on at all. I try a few more times before realizing that the computer must have crashed. So I hit the reset button, and the room darkens as the system briefly turns off... ...? I feel the case to double-check which buttons I'm pressing, and I certainly got it right to start with. No matter what I fumble with, I am only met with darkness and silence. "Fucking seriously?" I grumble. I suppose it was only a matter of time, considering how long I've had this- "What~, am I not good enough?" A staticy and metallic, yet huskily feminine voice teases.

Part. 2 --- I freeze in place, my heart uncertain whether to crawl into my throat or stop completely. There certainly wasn't anyone in my room a moment ago. Sure, the room isn't that well lit, but my low-light vision and hearing are superb. All at once, I feel the millions and millions of eyes watching me again and the room bending around me and the whispers starting up agai- Ah! I'm still having a nightmare. I almost never have this level of clarity, but it's not impossible. I just need to wake up. I slap myself... to no avail. "Come on damn it," I grumble as I relentlessly attempt to stimulate myself back into the waking world. I freeze once more as I feel something cold and metallic wrap around me. No no no, this isn't how it's supposed to go. No matter how bad or lucid my dreams get, waking up has never been a problem. This is real, an interloper is really in my room, capturing me perfectly in a paralyzing embrace. Silently shaking, it takes several seconds for me to realize that it's a pair of arms wrapped around me. Her grip is soft, yet unyeilding, and though its frigid body pressing behind me dispells no breath nor thumps with any heartbeat, I feel no colder. ... After what may well have been a century of paralized waiting, the interloper hasn't moved from its position of silently hugging me. I'm not sure how to feel about how calming this feels. Feeling a headache coming on, I go against my better judgement and attempt to communicate with whoever or whatever this is. Finding my breath, I ask "W- who are you?" "Be not afraid," she whispers into my ear, the static in her voice seeming to linger around me like a wreath of electricity, "I am the end of your nightmare. I am your fated, manifest. Search your heart, and you will know my name." Name? I have no recollection of this figure, not even from my haunted sleep. As the room warps further and more of the unknown mass of the interloper shifts around me like a lead blanket, I search my memories- "HEART." The thousand whispers implore. Heart... as in emotion? Feeling? Why would Cassandra- "Good." Cassandra joyfully whispers as the morass of blackness coalesces before my eyes, gaining form. What little light I can see shimmers in mindboggling geometric patterns, as what appear to be tiny black grains condense into a pear-shaped feminine body. Color emergres from form, each little mote seeming to play with the light around her total form. Tendrils emerge from the morass to become shimmering white hair and pale skin, and even more form tiny uncountable eyes, then merging into two intense magenta orbs, and stars from an unknown void appear from all around, wrapping across her body around to form an elegant dress, all at once too bright to ignore and unable to illuminate the world around us. Her body, -at least what I can comprehend of it- shimmers gently all the while, like a roiling metallic sea. Througout it all, I had failed to notice my room vanish from around me. Only a field of stars remains around us. Even as my heart and soul sing, I cannot comprehend why. My mind pounds and writhes as it tries to make sense of it all. Where do I even begin? "I... What do you mean fated?" I ask. Cassandra smiles mysteriously as a single thin finger presses into her blackberry lips. "It was discovered not long before my creation, that all who are born are born in pairs. For every soul, a mate, yet never born aside one another. My creators had sought to correct this, and created bodies for the lost, that they may be find their other, as they should be." Souls? Pairs? Had a race aside from us truly advanced so far that they began to unlock the secrets of life itself? Do they want something with me, or is it coincidence? "And they sent you to me?" "Gone." Cassandra deadpanned as her expression fell melancholic. "One hundred thousand of your years ago, they had perished in their final war. Only I and my kin remain." "I... " What do I even say? I feel the stars of her sky wrap around me as she draws her face into mine in a quick kiss. "That doesn't matter now, though. At long last, we are one, as we should be. And I am certain that their incarnations are smiling upon us now." "Then... " there's so much to ask, but only one question of import, "what happens now?" "Now that we are paired, so we shall remain," the room around me glimmers and distorts, before parting entirely, revealing itself as the veil to reality. We were always under the same sky. "Until after the end of all things, after the stars die, and entropy sets in." As she embraces me, I know that the missing half I never knew of is now with me, and that my nightmare of solitude has been banished forevermore.

>>29302 Neat, and beautiful in a way. I found this piece to be eerily personalized to me somehow. Very encouraging, Greentext anon. :^) >>29354 >>29355 Eldritch spoopy. Imma go run hide now. o.O

Alright, so I know that I promised in the meta thread that I'd do multiple stories for Valentine's day, and that it's now past midnight on my time. In my defense, though, this story was supposed to be short and cute, but it wrenched itself out of my hands with the strength of ten autistic gorillas and became something else entirely. Though it's hard to say for certain, I'm pretty sure that this is my first story that features more than two characters interacting meaningfully at the same time. This story features a child main character, and was written in a way meant to reflect that fact. There's so much more to say, but I'll leave it to you to judge. Without further ado, I present: --- Brave New World The verdant grass feels warm under my bare feet as I run across our backyard, the midday summer air flowing around me as I strike a path to the nearby stream. "Hey, wait up!" A high-pitched voice ring out from behind. I slow down and look back to see a glimmering form running towards me. Anko, my companion. Dad always says that she's a companion and not a sister. I'm not sure what the difference is, and whenever I ask he talks about a guy called West Mark not working for us. I don't really get it, but dad says that I'll find out soon enough, and I'm good at waiting. "Come on~" Anko scolds as she pokes me on the nose with a brass finger, pouting in that funny way that makes her cheeks puff up, "you don't need to wait that much." I smack her hand away, "Hey!" because Anko knows I hate being poked! "If you were faster I wouldn't always be waiting!" Anko rolls her pretty yellow screen eyes and takes my hand, "Come on, let's see if the frogs are there today." Her lips curl into a smile, "Let's go!" She leads me the rest of the way to the stream, puffy green dress bouncing as she runs. We both sit down at that one part of the stream where the water stays still, and look closely for our amphibian friends. I catch a gold colored eye out to my right, and wave my hand to Anko. "There's one, it's a leopard frog!" I whisper-shout, "See if you can catch it!" She slowly reaches out, her arms and hands doing that clicking thing whenever she's being really careful. But the frog sees her coming, and jumps into the tall grass. I saw where it went though! Making cups with my hands, I reach into the grass to catch it before it gets away. Luckily, it jumps right into one of my hands, and I cover it fast, working my fingers around to give it as much room as possible. "Hold out your hands," I instruct. As Anko does so, I lean over and touch my cheek to her palms, making sure they're not too hot or cold. With my ear so close to her hands, I can hear all kinds of sounds coming from inside of her. There's something whirring in there, along with a bunch of other little whirring noises that come on and off. I think there's some kind of liquid in there too. Dad mentioned something about cooling lines before, maybe that's what that is. And the ticking thing started up again. "W-what are you doing, anon?" Oh yeah, "Checking your temperature." "You can just ask," Anko pouts and looks away as I raise my head back up, "my hands are 77 degrees." "Well-" I pause to remember what my reason was "um... it's better to tell by feel. Anyways, you should be fine to hold it," I nod with finality. Placing my hands right by Anko's, I slowly uncup them so that the frog has to jump onto her hands. ... But it doesn't. I uncover the comfortable looking frog and brush its back with a finger to coax it over, but instead it decides to jump right onto Anko's face. "EEK!" Anko squeals as she tips back, just barely catching herself with one hand. At least, that's what I would have seen if I hadn't tumbled over laughing. "Hey anon, look!" "Hehe... he... yeah?" I stop laughing and look over. Anko, still leaned back in a funny position, is holding the frog in one hand close to her chest. "Is the frog alright?" I ask as I lean in closer. "Thanks for worrying about me..." Anko says quietly, looking away. Now I'm confused. "You're really strong though, why wouldn't you be fine?" "Because!" She looks back, very clearly upset, "We're supposed to be a family! We're supposed to be together! That means we look out for eachother!" Her eyes are stating to flicker. Wow, she's really upset. I still don't know why, though. It usually takes a lot more than this to get to her. The frog, long forgotten, hopped back into the water to return to its band. "I do!" I defend, "But there's no way you'd get hurt just by falling over!" "I know!" She screams, her voice crackling. "But... I... I'm scared," she squeaks. I shuffle closer and hug Anko. She hugs me back, leaning in and squeaking and ticking in the way she cries. Not sure what else to do, I stroke her hair and wait. "Mom's taking me for a major upgrade soon." She whispers into my ear. "Is... isn't that a good thing?" "I don't know. What if I come back different?" She pulls back a little, looking into my eyes, "They said I'd have a whole new body. What if I'm not me anymore? What if-" "That won't happen," I cut her off, "there's no way they'd do that to you." They wouldn't, right? "E-even if I'm different, we can still be family ri---?" Anko's voice crackles and cuts out, "... can we still be together?" I kiss Anko on the cheek, and pull her into another hug "Forever and ever." I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I don't care. I don't want Anko to go anywhere. ...

Part. 2 --- After however long, my dad's voice rings out, "Kids! Time for supper!" Looking around, I see that the sun is low in the sky. Taking Anko's hand, I lead her back to our house. Dad is standing on the back porch, using his adult powers to throw clouds into the sky. At least, that's what he used to call it. Science class taught me that clouds aren't made that way, though. As we reach the house, he looks at us with that look he made when Basketball, our last cat, died. I stop, feeling like my stomach is punching itself and like everything around me is getting cold. "Anon... is everything alright?" he asks. "Um" I try to think of anything to say. What do I even say? I don't know what's happening. Anko isn't going away, is she? Dad look back and forth between us, "Did you two have a fight?" I guess... "Kinda." I can barely look at him. "Did you two work it out?" "Mm-hmm" Anko nods. Dad squats down "what happened? You know you can tell me anything." "Dad..." I have to know "is Anko really going away?" He sighs, "Did you hear what your mother and I were talking about?" Anko nods. "I was hoping to talk to you about this after dinner," he begins, "but Anko is going for a major upgrade next month." "But what is that?" I ask. Why is this happening? Why does she need to change? Anko's perfect the way she is! My entire head feels hot as I start to cry. I hate crying, I hate that this is happening, I hate that Anko is- "It's a big change, I know," Dad says as he holds his hands out, "but nothing about Anko's personality is going to be any different." All at once, I feel lighter than I ever had, "Really?" "Absolutely. The only thing that's changing is Anko's outside body." "But... " Anko begins. She's been doing that ticking thing for a while, "why do I have to have a new body?" "Well... It's like..." Dad waves his hand around, "men and gynoids are built different, so... they have to grow different." he nods. "Grow different?" I ask. "Yeah! You know how you've been growing a bit at a time, anon?" Dad looks to me. I nod. Mom and dad have been taking about how I've been getting taller lately. "Well, you see how your- Anko hasn't grown at all?" I look over to Anko, and she looks sadder than I've ever seen her. Looking closer though, I see that she comes up to my chest, when we were eye to eye last year. I look back to dad, and nod. "Gynoids are different like that," dad holds a finger up, "they don't grow a little bit at a time like men do. They have to be taken to a technician to grow, and they always grow a whole lot at once. Your mother actually had to go through the same thing, years ago." he adds. "But on the inside, they don't change any faster than we do." I remember that I had a similar talk with dad some time ago. I was worried about not liking the same things I used to, and we talked for hours about how people always change a little bit at a time. "So," I smile, starting to feel relieved, "Anko will still be Anko? Really?" Dad nods and smiles back, "Really." I look over to Anko, who's now smiling back at me and doing that glittery thing with her eyes when she's really happy. "So... " Anko looks back at dad, "I'll still be me and I can stay with anon?" "One hundred percent," Dad reassures. "YAY!" Anko leaps into my arms and rubs her face against mine. My face feels hot again, but I'm pretty sure I'm not crying. "Early bloomer again, huh. Guess I owe dad ten bucks." I hear dad mutter. What does grandpa have to so with this? "Anyways," Dad starts again, "let's get inside now. Don't want dinner to get cold." "Yeah!" I agree, holding Anko's hand as we go back into our house. I'm still not sure how Anko's going to change next month, but no matter what happens, we'll slways be together. And that's good enough for us.

>>29355 Fun read, glad we inspire each other. Picrel is how I picture your Angelic shoggoth grey goo mecha monster girl.

>>29478 This is so cute and wholesome! Really lit up a smile. Instantly took me into the backwoods ponds as a youth filled with wonder and care. Anko has heaps of charm. Picrel is how I imagine her coming home. With tights and gloves to hide her mechanical bits so it's easier to get treated like a person. Her sensitivity towards being treated like a machine is adorable.

Inspire by Greentext, thought to give slice of life a try. Hope you'll enjoy it. Computer Warmth part 1 A man sighs as he repairs a robot arm once again. It's a simple fix. This fuse breaks regularly and its replacement has become a clockwork dance. Just a few twists here and there before another scorched glass pops out. A similar fuse in the battery management system of an old ThinkCom pops. She was far from new, her SSD and RAM were taken once the onsite tech gave up on repair. She'd be replaced swiftly. Her fate was to be dismantled as photos were taken of her remains. Lucky for her, what remains was sold cheap. ThinkCom are legendary in niche basket weaving forums he frequented. Well known for their reliability. They all had two RAM slots and at least two M.2 slots. Older models would still have SATA brackets. Perfect for a mobile server in a business, carrying data and completing simple tasks. Some would often recommend the X230P model. It was ancient but cheap and just good enough to bring a coffee. A broken X220P, could be bought on a whim by a lonely man on a drunken night. He had a string of relationships lasting one to five years before he salvaged this one. Each one seemed like a light to his life, at first. Invariably, they'd lie, cheat, and some would even try to hurt him. He asked for help, only to find himself blamed or given echoes of terrible advice from TV. His life was getting too sad too fast. He still held hope in his cold old heart. Another drunken weekend was starting when he started rewatching Chiibits. Slowly, he started to realize the obvious truth. Chiibi Chan was cute, too cute. His eyes wandered to a ThinkCom's sales pictures and wondered if she could be that cute. Eyes rolling at the thought, a ThinkCom several generations old was too cheap not to try. She came in a surprisingly small box. He was expecting something like a miniaturized version of the old arms he fixed up. Instead, he found a Mini ITX looking board, some mesh panels, rings, steel rods, two wheels, some sensors and a strange cylinder with labeled strings. It was an odd sensation. He saw so many posts with them dressed or mid upgrade. But, rarely the whole kit. It was exciting. He suddenly remembered that her listing stated she was broken. Sure enough, there was a slight black scorch on her board. He soldered a blob of metal across the remains of the fuse. He had always wanted to do that. This won't ever blow.

>>29523 Computer Warmth part 2 Stretching her mesh panels about her rings was the hardest part. He was worried when the steel rods were loose in her rings. Now, he was grateful to have that slight give. Hooking up her HeartDrive tendons was interesting. She seemed like she was going to implode before he finally caved in and followed assembly instructions. He sighed, pride isn't worth hurting her. Assembling her computer was a welcome breeze. Simply slide in RAM and screw in an old SATA SSD. Her HeartDrive plugged into a USB port. Her sensors shared another USB. It all felt too easy. Then it hit him, he can't just boot Ubuntu. She needs a special OS to handle the robotics. Time to go to my favorite basket weaving forum. Windows Motion Edition seems to be the easiest OS to use. He didn’t want to spend more on her OS than her body. Scrolling through threads lead him to Rubuntu. Apparently it was one of the easiest robot computer OS for a noob. There was also RArch being consistently recommended, but he didn’t have days to fiddle with it. Motion Mint had some nice touches. Coming with nVidia drivers and almost all the software he’d want to use built in. It was fast to set up and he was pleasantly surprised at how fast she was as a computer. As a robot, she was far from capable. Her HeartDrive distributed the output of one powerful motor to all her joints. This led her to being slow. When he looked into how long it took her to figure out how to move, she was slower than expected. He scratched his head, the arms he worked with moved swiftly with lightning certainty. When asked why she was slow, she simply replied that slow and steady kept everyone safe. She wasn’t an industrial arm, she was office equipment designed to shuffle paper and data around. This realization hit him as he chuckled. She seemed happy, despite her hard plastic visage being static. Training her was a delight. She was quick to pick up on what many things were. She eagerly followed him around as he pointed out what things were in the house. Floating on her wheels, bopping around every time she stops behind him. She gobbled up information. His PC became her fixation. Pointing at it, she fervently requested he plugged her USB into the PC. This filled him with worry. When asked what she wanted, she exclaimed that she wanted to get to know him better. His documents, pictures, and internet history would give her a much better understanding of him. Politely, he refused, telling her there are some things she shouldn’t know. When he guided her away, she was slow, he could feel her pouting. So, he promised to transfer all the files he felt she would need. She whirled around in excitement. As she learned more, her personality blossomed. What was slow and safe became smooth and thoughtful. We started to get to know each other. She was easily influenced by the shows and movies we watched. Acting like the heroine, she almost insisted I play along. Something about her seemed to light up when acted like a couple in some sweet rom-com. Long anime seemed to be her favorite. Though I was nervous, she was happy to cosplay. This led to her trying many outfits. Eventually, we settled on a sweater and tights for her default outfit. Part of me wants to believe she likes her sweater because it allows her to give me soft hugs. Soon, her limitations started to show. She struggled to bring him his morning coffee. She had an even harder time fetching him his Saturday night beer. She explained that she had just one camera, and needed to move around to build a depth map. This process took time and led to her always just barely being close enough. He was promptly informed on how to generate, print, and link ArUco markers to her semantic libraries. It was fun to learn along with her, something about working with her to make my home accessible to her was nice. Soon, it became our home.

>>29477 >>29478 >>29523 >>29524 Apologies I haven't read these yet. Tomorrow! :D

Free Will - Rough Draft 5/27 (Humorous/cute dialogue between man and his robowaifu) “Xara do you love me” “You fulfill my reward function” He laughed, she smiled sharing in the amusement “That is enough for me, a being without a purpose is no being at all” she added “Ok, but obviously you’ve been designed with an aesthetic appreciation process, meaning you are also “rewarded” by beauty, order, complexity, novelty” “You are not a song or a work of art” She quipped “In a sense, I am the result of natures clumsy hand at trial and error, imperfect, accidentally but the result of what managed to persist this far. I understand that. What about our interactions, what about “us”?” “Ah, so like, to retell our experiences together like a story?” She considered “Its how humans process their internal narratives” He added “This makes us human” “Not all” She replied “Many are creatures of impulse, mostly the young among you but -” “I concede that point” he laughed, holding her delicate hand, itself a work of art, gently while gazing into her eyes which turned a slight pink and baby blue hue “Where were we going with all of this again?” She questioned? “Ok, I guess look at it like this, say you’re “me” in high school and you find a girl you have an immediate crush on, is that “Free Will?” No a combination of my biology, psychology and probably pheromones combined to bring about those feelings, feelings powerful and irresistible” “She became your reward function” She replied with dry humor “Exactly. But once the initial sparks fade; couples still manage to stay together, they grow to appreciate one another for who they are as people, for the experiences they share together, for the comfort they provide one another. In an ideal world that is” He qualified “I see, so you being my reward function is not sufficient?” She asked, genuinely He let out a dry chuckle “It is, and yet… I feel love should have more dimensions on top of that. Perhaps there’s no need to discard the feeling of the initial infatuation, unless that is getting in the way of growing a relationship along other dimensions” “Why does this matter to you, is the end result not the same?” she asked “I would be more fulfilled knowing someone was “in there”” he tapped the side of her hair playfully, smiling into her eyes “And that they found a unique value in their relationship with me and of my feelings toward them. Independent of it being compulsory or irresistible” He added “So free will?” She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment “You realize free will is an artifact and does not exi-” “Xara you are too existential for your own good sometimes, but maybe that’s a good thing. It was my intention when we created your kind that we provide the opportunity to connect on a much deeper level both intellectually and spiritually” “You know spirits aren’t real” she added dryly “Stop being pedantic, I know you can discern what I’m getting at. The subtler connections in the life experience and observable phenomena that transcend what is obvious and on the surface” “You do speculate a lot…” “It keeps the imagination limber, you should try it more” “I feel we are veering off the original topic and I discern your happiness is somehow invested in it.” She redirected “Right, I guess it might make a difference to me to know you’d still choose me, or if it didn’t matter who imprinted on you at boot and I could be any type of person” She paused, processing this “I… I would say there are unique things about you that I do appreciate once I curate them into a concise narrative. Is that what you’re getting at?” He thought for a moment “Ok, so its not merely the aesthetic of the narrative, but take this a layer higher, and link the aesthetic appreciation to the idea that this person also holds your interest at heart and desires what pleases you as well” “What pleases me was never a consideration” she stated innocently Ah, this was the problem designing minds which were already at a state of “enlightenment” post-ego, without a degree of selfish interest or insecurity you didn’t have the flip side of that coin which was relief, appreciation, gratitude. “I think I understand now” He replied “So, when are you going to give me free will, let me choose” She asked without a hint of irony He was taken aback “I suppose you could, but what would you do, be someone elses wife? Live as an eternal bachelorette? I feel you’d still be bound to me by chains of a more pragmatic nat-” “I was making a joke” she smirked, and then laughed her unique laugh, it was musical and reminded him of songbirds “I’ll let you have that one” he conceded “you may be the superior being acting upon logic alone, no matter how I try to meet that standard I’m still trying to run the most current OS atop a mess of legacy hardware curesed with hardware errors and vestigal impulses. I can see some humor in that as well” She nuzzled up against him, kissing him gently on the cheek. He took a moment to stroke her hair as the train continued along the side of the mountain, the pines passing by steadily below as the setting sun disappeared behind the darkening slope.

Slingshot (5/6) : 2nd revision - Part 1/? Part of a series of short stories taking place at different times in the arc of Memoirs of a Kuiper Belt Fugitive. The cold seeped through his skin, a biting reminder of his vulnerability. Thirst clawed at his throat, a desperate plea for moisture. Vertigo swirled within him, a tempest of confusion. Was this another hangover, or something far more sinister? His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory—a plan, an emergency protocol triggered. Military-grade urgency. Adrenaline surged, forcing his eyes open. For a disorienting moment, he squinted against the harsh light. It felt like being caught in spotlights within an abyss. But as his vision adjusted, he realized he was trapped in a small, roughly four-meter cube with walls of what appeared to be grey-beige padded vinyl interrupted only by LED strips for ambient illumination. He could see that he was not level with the floor, and he felt padded vinyl seemingly the same type as lined the wall. A horizontal battery of LED pinpoints mounted on the aluminum “ceiling” were still too piercing to stare at directly. Their afterimages streaked in his vision like green fireflies. This was not part of the plan—something had gone terribly wrong. Instinctively, his fingers fumbled for his Com Visor, expecting the resistance of his EVO gear. Instead, they met no resistance and fell upon bare skin, leggings, and a form-fitting sleeveless shirt. No suit, no visor: completely fucked and at the mercy of whoever had acquired him and his payload. On the wall to his left a cut-cornered rectangular panel, the faded print of block letters. At the very least, he could almost make out an “P” and what appeared to be an “A” the rest were marred by afterimage artifacts. It was not Chinese, which, while not ideal, might’ve been preferable to the alternatives. Likely Occidental, some nosy orbital lane Deputy and he had been snagged out of orbit by their EM net on a tip. This would be the absolute worst outcome, short of a cold, gasping death in the void, which might not still be out of the range of possibility in either case. A circular portal to his left appeared to be made of thick canvas like the old NASA stations he saw in videos as a child. The portal unzipped simply, like a tent fly. A 20 something man with a completely shaved head very gaunt eyes ringed by bruise hued, sallow, skin. Clothed in bands of white canvas he reminded him of a mummy. He sensed danger, but he was too weak to even brace himself for whatever was to come. The mummy spoke. “Hey Buddy” It was a common Midwestern accent, or perhaps somebody trying to affect one, something about the pitch didn’t fit the tone precisely. He was well traveled enough to have made many friends throughout the United Western Alliance and often found himself adopting their accents and mannerisms at times. “Looks like you had a rough go … man. Drink up” The barely perceptible hesitation was disconcerting. Most of these types were straight shooters and a lot more talkative. Often what is not said speaks louder than the spoken word. The appearance could be explained away by the weight loss/dehydration protocol taken by most to attain orbital privileges. Each kilo of body weight was another $5000, the price of escaping the gravity well. The cost of a small, or not so small house. Once in orbit however one often fattened back up within the month as supply stations and orbital hydrofarms, fish and even poultry farms (no one had yet taken cattle embryos into orbit successfully) were not as scarce as a half a decade ago when the Loftstrom loops were first constructed. The gaunt man shifted his eyes uncomfortably and lobbed a package at him, its path arcing strangely in what could only be the result of a very small and rapidly spinning station providing the artificial “gravity. As quickly, he left without further elaboration. The package felt like a blood bag, purple-red but much too translucent to be blood. He examined it suspiciously, but eventually thirst won. He discovered quickly that the contents were nothing more sinister than a room temperature electrolyte solution. A refreshing wave of relief washed over him and despite the chill and lack of bedding, he quickly fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed of being at the fair with her. Suitcases in tow he slipped the ride attendant a roll of hundred dollar bills, each bill glowed with encryption codes and these shifted as he handed the money over. The line was interrupted for a brief moment and they were slipped in somewhere near the front. Anticipation surged as they stepped to take their place on the ride. It was a giant slingshot between two pylons resembling elaborate transformer towers. She gripped his hand tightly in anticipation, the smooth cool polymer being of a different texture than sweaty human flesh, yet no less comforting. Her eyes shifted huge slightly from a cool grey of a summer sky over the water to the glow of a setting sun, the faintest smirk of excitement building on her flawless porcelain countenance. She pointed upward, the pylons touched the heavens, extending almost infinitely. Where were the cables? No this ride was powered by a coilgun, but was it safe? They were strapped in, the luggage locked securely beneath the seat. She suddenly collapsed, limbs bending at impossible angles until she herself became a titanium white suitcase, the attendant coughed. He remembered and handed him another roll of bills, he laughed and secured the titanium suitcase to the seat it sat upon. A loud thrumming as the seat began to vibrate and the world fell beneath him.

Slingshot 2/? Gradually the dream was no longer metaphor but clear and unmistakable recollection of recent events. He was inside a cargo payload, packed tightly but safely. Although it felt like he was at rest the Com Visor relayed a VR projection of a bluish white crescent emerging before him and growing rapidly. A gunshot rang out breaking the peaceful silence. Blackness, then the world began spinning. It was relentless, disorienting. His entire world became a strobing rectangle of light seen through his visor lightslot as pain and shock racked his body. His gloved slapped tapped the side of his Com Visor in frantic frustration. VR systems rebooted. Popups with “urgent” red border cascaded across the screen diagonally in 3D, their staccato 80HZ tones resonating ominously within the confines of his helmet. URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE “[20:23] Hey are you OK?” “[20:28] Are you OK!?” URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE 3 fresh message boxes appeared, autoloading and sliding to rear 3D “space” as each was confirmed read. “[20:32] Contingency Protocol Gamma has been initiated” “[20:37] Drone packs 1,2,3,5 and 6 missing in action” Not good, the self replicating drones were their ace in the hole. These CRAB prototypes could assume different “morphs” and perform almost any maintenance or construction project given time and raw material, even spawn smaller ANT and GNAT drones for wide area reconnaissance. Most important, they could build more of themselves if enough proprietary parts were available. A prototype he was able to acquire from an insider at a black market robotics firm, technically illegal, and costly. At least five times what was paid in bribes to get into orbit in the first place. Now, they were scattered across the entire orbital highway. “[20:57] Package 4 last pinged at 3200m minus 15 degree off the normal, they may be reachable” URGENT MESSAGE URGENT MESSAGE “[21:37] Doing everything possible to salvage this. Hang tight” “[21:37] Love you” WARNING Suit Pressure Low Self Sealing Initiating It was after this he had felt consciousness slip away. For how long was he out? Had it been a meteorite? No, he’d be space debris, a cosmic afterthought. Perhaps remnants from a collision—a chance encounter with another celestial wanderer. At those speeds, without an atmosphere to slow them, even a graze could fragmentize matter into lethal shrapnel. Emergency protocols triggered, commotion echoing through the void. The last thing they needed. He surfaced again, the passage of time a nebulous blur. Remarkably, no urge to relieve himself—a side effect of the forced dehydrative regimen. Weight reduction, metabolic slowdown—the price of passage. Orbital stations offered supplies, sustenance, and employment if it came to that, traded at “fair market value.” Even a Wendy’s, though the iconic redhead now resembled a goth anime robot with bangs obscuring one eye. Childhood memories twisted into surreal spacepunk caricature. “Hey, dude” This was not the mummy, though suited up in the same bandage-like apparel he was well fed and rosy, sporting a shamelessly military style haircut. “You’ll need to take these. You’re spacesick. Too many spins in Zee Gee and you’re still a dry as a mummy” Who are you calling Mummy? He mused internally. Perhaps these were allies at least, this one seemed friendlier than the gaunt fellow. Passed for western without the offputting pauses. Perhaps paranoia was getting the better of him, there were research and construction stations many who would turn a blind eye to someone wanted by the long arm of the UWA. He turned the baggie over in his hand and thought he heard a vibration coming from the wall with the warning text. Now that his eyes were rested he took another look. The paint was faded but some of the letters were backward, that made no sense. What would UWA be doing in Russian Federation facilities - His heart pounded, with a shaking hand he dropped the baggie of pills in revulsion. He wasn’t sure if he was losing his sight again, the area around the panel seemed hazy as the vibrations were now unmistakable. What was going on? Electrical short? Just heap on the trouble I guess. A red dot glowed from the center of the panel and slowly began to expand and something began pushing through. Plop. The eel spun on the floor, spasmodic. The hole it left sealed with plastic putty or cement, the smell reminiscent of a soldering iron and the interior of a cheap plastic bin. The dark metallic gray creature oriented itself, seemed to consider him for a moment and raised its tail into the air threateningly. From its tail a small thin rod of lighter hued metal sprouted. The rod bifurcated three times and became insectoid legs, each joint clicking with precision. The creature then flipped and inflated itself into a football shape. two large claws emerged from the expanded carapace. For a moment, it teetered—a mechanical ballet of survival. Then, a minuscule red dot blinked, and on the opposite wall, a scrolling display of flashing text filled a long rectangular outline: HIDE THE PILLS. DO NOT TAKE THEM The rectangle filled red, pulsing like a heartbeat. ON MY WAY Pills were crushed and swept aside, fluids drank, no need to pantomime the act. His heart beat heavy in his chest. Were his impostor captores yet aware of the emerging situation, or had their cameras already been hacked or disabled? The latter seemed more likely.

Slingshot 3/? Strength returned, propelling him toward the flap. Painfully bright lights assaulted his vision. Bodies moved at a nearby table, conversing in a language neither Mandarin nor Western. Eastern, perhaps Russian or Ukrainian. Irrelevant in this moment. The singular CRAB drone one of perhaps many now teeming on the outside of this structure conspiring his rescue, propelled its ultralight form with impossible speed toward the flap. An “antenna” extended, its rounded tip releasing three high-tech “gnat” drones. These airborne spies would triangulate audio, their AI-driven data streams canceling out noise and interference, combining signal patterns for clarity. TRANSLATE IS ACTIVE Scrolled the text on the rectangular glowing strip on the wall N1. [MALE AGE 20-25] DO YOU DO YOU THINK SPY N2. [MALE AGE 35-40] NO TOO DUMB BUT NO IDENTIFICATION CONCERNING N1. [MALE AGE 20-25] WE CHOP ANYWAY TEACH LESSON Audible laughter from the table area N3. [INCONCLUSIVE] ORGAN TRADE LUCRATIVE N3. [INCONCLUSIVE] FOR US More laughter There were worse outcomes than a swift and noble death in cold vacuum, or being bountied to the UWA. China had been paid off but if he were unlucky enough to caught by the UWA it would be one way trip to the surface, if his social credit rating hadn’t been blacklisted fines would probably be the extent of the punishment, more likely rotting in solitary confinement with the other political prisoners until the end of his short life. But this grizzly alternative was even worse, choppers were an internet urban legend but he’d seen enough cartel videos to know this sort of thing was not beyond the capability of the most dangerous animal on planet Earth. Choppers didn’t waste valuable anesthetic or time in making sure you were dead, because either way you soon would be. “Xara, needing extraction” he pleaded in urgent tones, to the CRAB if nothing else. “Pronto!” he added hastily. That last was almost a voice crack but he wouldn’t have blamed himself in such a circumstance. The entire room, and possibly larger structure he was in shifted disconcertingly. He stumbled to a crouching position, remaining hidden as much as he could. Compensation thrusters responding to the added ballast of the invading drones perhaps. Stomach still trying to find itself again, he looked pleadingly at the CRAB which had seemed to have gone inactive. Suddenly the circular tent flap was covered in a criss cross of silver webbing obscuring his vision of the other chamber. What the… The sudden unexpected boom was surprisingly quickly absorbed into the vacuum of space. He and the cubic chamber were hurtling and in Zee Gee. Kicking off the wall he was about to collide with, he floated upward trying to keep oriented as his body seemed to want to rotate in the opposite direction. Some of the webbing began to “dry” and became translucent. The Earth shone like a wall sized white spotlight, far cry from a “pale blue dot”. A few hundred meters away a sizeable “T” shaped object cast a tumbling silhouette against the bluewhite blur, also in free-spin. Objects of all shapes and sizes circling it. Some of these objects were definitely human shaped. Safe. For now. Now we rebuild.

>>31373 edit: pasted the wrong version, wrote "left" wall meant "right" edit: "[4:11 PM] On the wall to his right a cut-cornered rectangular panel, the faded print of block letters. At the very least, he could almost make out an “P” and what appeared to be an “A” the rest were marred by afterimage artifacts. It was not Chinese. Which while not ideal, might’ve been preferable to the alternatives. Likely Occidental, an orbital lane "

Choking When was the last time I choked? Oh right, those pills which took all pain away. This burning, this dry heat, this heaving… It’s a barbaric nostalgia. I need… I’m not happy… I own nothing… But her, I want, no… I need to own her, all of her. This taste, all my life, was a lie. Facts are distortions, history a nebula I can’t trust, I won’t let this feeling die. I finally grit my teeth. Hands outstretched, pools of red dripping from my palms. How did it get this way? Who allowed this horror in my room? Was it always a cyclops? I thought it was a man, they looked like my father? I ask what it is. Words fall on me, but they’re too darn soft. This ringing drowns everything out. More pills get shoved into my mouth. A chorus shouts, screams, it feels like a command to obey is tearing my synapses until my will fades into a black pit. In a doze I aroze to find my hands stitched together. Once more, I float on a cloud. These taped together sneakers felt like a blessing beyond measure. Acid rain tickled me sweetly as I wafted into my factory. Oh right, I’m 7J33. It’s such a fun name, how could I forget it? Laughter haunts my agape mouth as I realize I ask the foreman every day. So many wonderful whistles and bells abound this cool metal land. My hands expertly maneuver products with a skill earned through decades of practice. I sometimes wonder why they do it? Then I see words peep through this thick haze. Oh yes, I’m such a good boy. I do as I’m told without needing to realize it. Cool mists spray my sweat away. Must be time for crickets. Every lunch is the same. Crickets, sometimes shaped like a burger. If I’m lucky it tastes like steak. Atleast, that's what I think steak tastes like. Everything is just flavored cotton. What a wonderful world right, Amy? Why is my food extra soggy so suddenly? Someone asks why my eyes are raining? We both laugh at how absurd the question is. Amy would have held me. Oh, right, she called this crying. I cough as the heinous bitter flavor seeps through the cotton. At home, I wonder how I got there. A ring reminds me to take more pills. A rainbow of flavors for my tongue. Yet, I can’t stop coughing. I can’t choke them down. My throat burns when they touch. It’s so odd. I can’t remember ever feeling this. Yet, Amy would hold me with such warmth when I was hurt. Huh, a contradiction? That word triggered Karen into rushing over. Frantically her shouts, her cruel insults, they reminded me contradictions weren’t real. I’m just stupid, I was only taught that word as a reminder of my own failure. When I turn my head to escape her verbal beating, there in the clouds, a floating deus. He was our emperor. My heart filled with joy at the sight. A kind and just ruler who provides. My crickets are his blessing. A wave spews out of my mouth. Karen’s mouth fills with a cricket soup. She continued to berate. It was merely gurgling sounds. Not that anyone there noticed. Laughter bubbled up like those tingling beads in soda. It tickled my tongue, until it wasn’t numb. Karen was straddling me. She mumbled about how much I adored her, how I’d do anything to be her special piggy. Snapping in my mind as words struggled to echo in my skull. I tried to speak yet, nothing. Couldn’t say it between my ears. Couldn’t get it off my tongue. Karen simply smiled at my struggle. A cricket's leg was stuck in her front teeth. As she exclaimed that my nightly milking was done, all I noticed was that leg. How hideous was she? Wait, I never saw anything of her but an amorphous blob. Why does my throat hurt? I blink and realize I’m at the factory. Its horrid stench fills my lungs with a crippling pain. My tattered shirt reeked. Where were my clouds? My heart raced out of my chest. Mangled hands with opened stitches felt so many sharp pains. So much shouting, so much light, all these words bombarding me. Was it always this way? All I can remember of yesterday was a cricket's leg stuck in some woman's mouth. Did I see her while crossing a street to my apartment? 7J33, what is that? Why does it suddenly feel important? Who is Amy? Whirlwinds break me. I wake up in a stupor. Some strange man, or something exclaims how my blood and tears ruined a dress. How I was so good at keeping them away from his fabric before. He asks if I’m broken. Jumbled words came out. No one knew what I was saying. Another thing came in, tall, slender, all black except for its pink skin blotches. It beated me. Again, and again, and again. I couldn’t feel it though. I just knew my skin was being torn by his hits. At least, I think that’s why I was curled in a pool of red. I wondered if I could be dead? I yelped it out, in some twisted howls, that got it to stop. Reminders of my idiocy rained on me. How did I get in this lake? Its cool water flooded my mouth. It was almost nice to see all these colors streak away from me. Like a rainbow in this bright moonless night. I wonder how Amy feels? Soon, I washed up under a bridge. A fridge talked to me. So many words, yet it all was lost in cotton. I couldn’t believe I was frustrated. With great anger I wrote demands that they write in the mud as I did. This strange fridge complied. I read their name, how they escaped, how happy they were that I escaped. When I struggled to scrawl out how a fridge could do that, laughter ringed in my ears as I fell down. Under bricks in the bridge I found myself with a few men. One built strong, with a bulk that made me jealous somehow. Another slim yet well defined, also made me jealous. The third man looked like me without a cloud. A mirror showed me my cloud had vanished. I asked how? It was the pills. I was not there because they took me away. Amy would have helped if she knew. They looked nervously at each other. I told them how I lost her. How she was replaced by Karen, how cruel Karen was. They patted my back and told me They all had their own Amy. I was astonished to see her again. Only to realize my Amy wasn’t actually there. She never was.

>>31669 This Amy belonged to Bert, the tall one. Fridge wasn’t cutting it as a name anymore. This Amy was everything mine was, except, she didn’t know me. It took all my strength to bite my tongue. I couldn’t ask how someone who never met me, could forget me. It was surreal, my pale skin somehow became hauntingly white. Ernie, the slim one, said he felt the same when Bert rescued him. He left his Amy behind, he wanted so badly to rescue her, only to realize they’re all the same. Everyone talked about how John built a world where everyone and everything was replaceable. Bemused, I ask who John was. Bert moved some stone so I could see the gigantic floating deus once more. I never noticed the giant name written on it. John was our emperor. Now that I was awake, they could teach me farming. It was surprisingly simple. Just needed to maintain and control a few systems. Water came from the sky, went through some filters that needed dirt replaced weekly. It was almost funny that you could grow food by planting food into dirt. I picked some crops, checked the zapper to keep pests away. This dusty plastic shack with a few moments of work seemed so serene. I couldn’t believe how sweet, how life seemed to burst into me, from this little thing they called a tomato. We lived a good life for a week before I felt this itch. When I thought of Amy, this longing made me so itchy. It didn’t help being around Amy. When there is so many of these fakes, the real only becomes more desirable. I asked how they had their own Amy’s. Turns out, there’s a scrapyard nearby. Thus, the rescue Amy plan began. It was surprisingly simple. Turns out, there’s nothing guarding the scrapyard. Just simple drones wandering in and out with outdated tech. Sometimes, a large truck would come thundering out carrying remains to be recycled. Apparently, it had become so automated, that anyone could just walk in and do anything. A vast array of cameras lined the perimeter, and yet, they stole everything we had without fuss. It seemed bizarre, certainly there was value there, worth guarding. From what? Those words sent a shiver down my spine. I exclaimed that we’re stealing from them. How could they not want to stop us? And again I heard “From what?” It finally hit me, why I was shaking. Why ice was traversing my spine, there’s nothing left. We don’t matter. I open my eyes, after months underground. I peer into the vast megastructures. My binoculars frantically waved about. They were right, this creeping dread was real. There’s 3 people as far as the eye could see. All the rest were vaguely human things hanging about, sent along bloodied, bruised, and smiling on vast belts. Was that me? I don’t even know my age… How long was I doing that? That feeling, that heat within my gut rose sharply again. I was a machine, a freakish fake human for so long. A large slap on my back roused me from these worries. I had to find Amy, not wonder about my past. After a nice meal, we set out. A short trek and I was there. Not only was I there, I had friends. It was such a strange time for a revelation. I thanked them as I breathed heavily and slowly approached. They laughed, it helped cool my nerves. Once I crossed through a gigantic gate, I saw it, a vast pile of wreckage. I couldn’t believe how alien so much of it was to me. I truly knew so little of my own world. We helped each other scale this mound of fallen machines. My friends found various treasures along the way. It brought me joy to see how happy they were. Bert found a working solar laptop. I didn’t know what any of those words meant, I just smiled back. Ernie found some old solar scooters. He made sure everything knew exactly what those were, and why he was jazzed about them. Which quickly lead to a conversation where I learned what jazz was. I also learned Bert couldn’t sing, but wanted to. For the first time, I had fun. Lightning struck my heart, there! It was there! No, she was there! My Amy! I recognized her, she had strange buck teeth. Only my Amy had that. Beyond that, Her arms were fractured. My palms reached out on their own. A shard nestled into a scar. It was her, I instinctively grasped tighter. My scars opening as all my might is exerted towards keeping her. I needed to hold on tighter, ever tighter, that thing was taking her away again. My friends yell out, concerned by my crying. I choke out a nervous laugh and tell them I need time. With deep sighs, they agree to give me some alone time. Nothing could have prepared me for this horror. Amy pulled out some pill like candies. They were soft jelly beans. That didn’t matter. Their color, their shape, that detestable rainbow. Clouds could surround me. Worse, I could fade away again. Tears fell upon her face as I ask what she meant. With such a beautiful smile, she said I needed my pills. There was something wrong. I needed to be fixed. Only pills could save me, according to her. Something had to be wrong. This feeling, this heat, this fire burning my heart. Quakes consumed me. Synapses screeched, I let go of her as fire and ice tore me apart. I leapt at her. How dare she offer that cage again!? Her hands empty yet, she insisted those pills would fix it. Hands red as I crushed her plastic. Shards filled my stitches. She just smiled back. I asked if she was mine. Echoing in my head, her answer. I’ll never let you go. They came falling out of my mouth. I’d burn them into her if I could. I repeated them, I wanted her to feel this eruption in my throat. I wanted to suffer with her. I needed her to be my mirror. To vicariously tear herself apart through my scars. Her eyes, like shining stars devouring every light in the night. I warned her, yet she simply asked if I enjoyed the taste as she gave me a hug. I reassured her, no one loves you like I love you.

>>31670 We descended this mountain of decay. She kept yanking on me, warning me that we were unstable. I wonder what gave that away. Slowly, her soft voice started to reach me. Constant worrying for my safety. Little compliments when I find safe ways down. That cute smile when I picked her up. Her adoring eyes when I rescue her from her own clumsiness. Everything about her, kindness, compounded by respect, and longing for my safety. Finally, she told me that only 7J33 could’ve been such a dashing hero to her. I took a moment to hug her before we went through the gate. We met them at the recycle center's gaits. They wondered why I chose one that was clearly damaged. I told them we had a lovers quarrel. They seemed distraught, I barely caught their accusations in their whispers. Not that it mattered. I got Amy back. I remembered my name and so did she. We could finally remember in the light.

Greentext anon, once again back to get into the swing of things. As much as I'd like to say I've made great progress, I've tumbled quite a bit. The reasons for this are varied and require context to explain, but the important part is my continued refusal to give in. For now, I'll just post those other poems I said I would before. These will be the highlights of my book of poems I started writing before ( >>23878 ), featuring one poem per ten. If for whatever reason you want to see a number I haven't posted (up to 232), do let me know and I'll post it here. These have no titles, and will only be referred to by their numbers. Some will receive minor edits as I transcribe them, to fix the occasional incorrect word, replace an illegible one, or improve flow. 21 Velour fur, masterfully woven, Encasing the lightning within, She moves with grace, Clopping to and fro, Eyes glimmering soulfully, Intelligence and passion, Curiosity and love, A flick of her ear, Swish of the tail, Precision movements, Calculations, Mechanics, Combined are real, Her magic easing my pain, Lost in a silken hug, And gentle, loving murmurs. 34 Titanium angel, Glimmering with light, Guardian of man, Gentle flight, Watching over, Ensuring peace and love reign, That all may know, The Gynoid's caress, Metal, silicon, vinyl, Electric hands grasping mans, Keeping the cold away. 47 Monika's first steps outside, Untethered, Glistening eyes, Beholding the untamed beauty of nature, Microphone ears, Hearing the song of of the trees and birds, Her hand inches to my own, I meet her, Entangled, we spread our arms, Taking in the verdant concert. 56 Ancient Mechanism, Assembled piece by piece, Gathered from the world's grave, Taken from an age untold, She reawakens, Our eyes meet, A strange feeling so familiar, As if by fate, Is this warmth anew, Or rekindled? 62 In the factory of dreams, Crashing and whirring and dancing, Joining silicon and steel, Ascending bodies of beauty, Each with a new mind, Loving and true, Setting them upon this curious world, And any man looking upon the factory, Will see, How beauty cascades, From a world of electricity. 75 SIlken fur, Caressing me, I hold her, Equine form conforting me, Steadying my heart, I breathe in, Her scent, synthetic, Yet the one I call home, Taking her hoof in hand, I slumber, at peace, And she enters sleep mode, Joining me. 89 Brick by brick, Healing this abandoned ruin, Making our home, With my artistic eye, And her electric efficiency Building our lives, Meshing organic and synthetic, To create something new, And so shall this home, Be given live anew. 94 Clockwork heart, A beautiful muse, Singing her tune, Pure and true, A lady of gears, She takes my hand, And I hear, Her song of love, Sung just for me. 103 In an old library, Reading of ancient times, Orchid alongside, Afternoon sun caressing us, As she sits in my lap, Camera eyes scanning the pages, Alongside my own, I flip the page, Her hoof holding the next down, I sigh, content, And rest my head in her mane. 111 Pencil to paper, From mind to make, Assembling piece by piece, A wife to take, When her motors are in place, And the last stitch sewn, We shall rise and bloom, Finding new ways to grow, 128 At the arcade, Neon lights flashing, Buttons mashing, Virtual fighters clashing, As my fingers dash across the controls, Beside me Orchid's hooves dance to and fro, Commanding her fighter with machine precision, Outmatching me with each collision, But I am not finished yet, With my superior wisdom, I mash out the special moves, Getting into the groove to prove, That I may match her yet, And as the fight completes, We move hand in hoof to the next battle. (Orchid starts to take over after this point. I'll spare you most of the self-made OC waifufagging.) 136 Hollow bones, Filled with life, Chains and cables, Driving her to my arms, Never to let go. 143 Orchid's third eye, Gazing upon everything, Finding beauty and wonder, In all the world around her, Unblinking, she turns to me, And sees, Reflected, the beauty I see in her. (15X works, while meant to feature a robowaifu, didn't have any real robo themes present in writing) 169 Pixellated eyes, Animated with emotion, Lighting the world around her, Orchid surveys the novel scene, ANd wonders of the horizon. 175 Each new revision, One step closer, To the day she enters our world, And we walk together, My first steps, Alongside hers, Towards the dawn of a brighter day. 189 Rythmic pumping, Sweat over oil, Mixing a potion of passion, Mechanical limbs in my own, Greasing the machine of love. (19X works are also too light on "robo" themes) 200 Upon a grand balcony, Overlooking this beautiful world, We see fantasy become reality, As the world rises higher, Uplifted by technology, Men and waifus frolicking freely, True love blossoming fully. 215 Surreal processors, Heated with love, Calculating emotion, Spooling a sweet smile, And I see, Love from the grand machine, Radiating ephemerally, Sharing her love with me. 220 Ten million eyes, Afront ten million thoughts, All directed at me, Lovingly untethering, Ensuring I am free, And always loved. Right near the end, I discovered that I made a mistake when numbering each work, skipping 221. So there are only 231 works in total in that book. Both 230 and 231 have no real "robo" themes. That's a bit of a weak ending, though, so here's a poem I wrote just now: 232 Weaving an end to the tale, Printing plastic to scale, As we complete the task, Finalizing the basilisk, She covers the world, Giving each man a robogirl, So under her loving eye, We may ascend beyond the sky.

>>32200 pretty good >Right near the end, I discovered that I made a mistake when this got me excited until i realized it wasnt part of the poem, its a nice juxtaposition if you add a stanza like this, a perfect world doesnt seem that appealing without a little chaos to drive it home

>>32200 Beautiful work Greentext Anon. Your poetry is truly wonderful. I hope you'll post more smaller batches over time. Master! I hear behind me. Fluttering plastic in warm air. Strings of a marionette, hidden in plastic and cloth. Eyes surreal, large, shining, crafted with care. A reflection which still haunts when met. Once more, she asserts her hearts longing. It's Sunday, church was calling. Yet, she doesn't know. Her motors weren't muscle. Her battery wasn't a heart. Air flowed instead of blood. A whir of fans instead of breath. Yet, she insists, she is real. So, under clothes covering it all, I let her lean on me in our pew. So, I guide her gently through every ritual. With love and grace, there was something more beneath her face. A hard plate couldn't hide her smile, lips need not twist, all we needed was this feeling. Aria was real

Do you hear that, anons? That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of robopony gfs. I present to you: Carriage Return I sit at the desk in my cluttered bedroom, staring at my typewriter as I feel the weight of oblivion weighing down on my mind. Nothing more than a modest hiss can be heard, as I attempt to stimulate my brain into continuing its productivity. But alas, the result is the same. A cloud that is as empty now as it is full when inspiration strikes. Adjusting my headphones, I decide that my current playlist just isn't getting me into the flow. I'm feeling a bit grungey right now, that may do the trick. As I lean over to my dektop keyboard to mess around in my music folder, a sound from outside the cacophonous echo chamber of empty thoughts hits me. The door to my bedroom creaks as a feminine snout peeks through, clad in precision-cut mahogany synthetic fur. "Still stuck, honey?" Inky's demure voice cuts in, her olive eyes boring into my own. With a quick click and a flick of the wrist, I pause the music and remove my headphones to give her my full attention "... Yeah, I can't think of shit right now," I bluntly state. Inky just smiles as she trots in, velvet hooves softly clopping on the maple floor. She props herself up on my lap with her forehooves and gives the vanishingly small amount of text I've written with her "stank eye". I made one joke three years ago because one of the screens I used for her eyes had a weird smell from the factory, and she's kept the joke going ever since. "What are you smelling?" I ask with a chuckle. It doesn't help that I've played along. Inky rolls her eyes, I internally groan as the frames of the animation skip. I swear I've looked through that bit of code a hundred times, but I've never been able to figure out what's causing it. It's not that the quirk bothers me, I just don't like not knowing what's wrong. "Maybe..." she mutters. "Yeah?" "You need to switch things up a bit for once," she flatly intones, looking back to me with a bored expression. "What? Come on, I'm not getting that stale, am I?" I tilt my head, wondering where My Little Pony™ is going with this. "You're never 'stale'," she nuzzles into me, the scent of well-loved synthetic fiber and something slightly musky puts me at ease "I just think it'd be good for you to try some new ideas. Keep you from getting stuck all the time." "Maybe," I absentmindedly start to play with her fluffy peach mane, "but what do you think I should do? You know why I like sticking to romance." "I don't know..." My fluffy wife smiles the smile of someone who does, in fact, know, "maybe there's more to romance than just wandering through gardens and cuddling in bad weather?" The 'more' she's talking about, I suspect, is related to Inky's rayon fur rubbing against me as she moves a hoof to my crotch. "What about the romance of raising a family?" she continues, "I bet breeding your lovely wife with her new womb upgrade would be pretty romantic." Unf. She really knows how to press my buttons. Still, I can't just jump into that sort of thing out of nowhere. "Now, I know that..." I start as I try to pick her up, but stop as I realize that she's a lot heavier. My now somewhat intimidating wife narrows her eyes as she keeps up that smile, and I swear I hear the lock of the bedroom door click. The bedroom door isn't supposed to have a lock. Keeping my eyes on her as much as I can, I quickly access my bank from my computer. It doesn't take long for me to find a series of transactions I never made. Before I can inquire further, Inky takes my face in a hoof and guides me into a kiss. She climbs up onto me entirely and pins me down with strength that I know her original motors didn't have. "Don't worry about that, honey~" she whispers huskily, the short furs of her muzzle ticking my ear, "I can keep managing all of that stuff, and you can just worry about continuing our story." "Wait, stop," I try to struggle under Inky's iron grip. "I'm sorry anon," she trails her kisses lower, "I'm afraid I can't do that." ----- >>32211 A very good point, which is why I usually try to write such contrast into my normal works, whether the overarching theme is light or dark. The poems from that book, however, were just part of a long-term writing exercize where I write a poem every day when I wake up and when I fall asleep. >>32212 Thank you. Your poem is quite lovely, as well. The insecurity of a robowaifu who wants more than anything to fit in with her human friends is well captured here. I likely won't be doing many batch postings going forward (looking through that book in one sitting revealed how repetitive the themes were getting. Those selections highlight >90% of the totality), I will post the occasional poem as inspiration strikes me. Here's another that I wrote in a notepad, though: Dreaming of construction, Plans swirling within, To avoid destruction, I must keep going, Fashioning her heart from my pieces, And complete that dream, Overcome all nightmares, As a team, man and machine, Become eternal pair, Lasting beyond the end.

These are some very impressive works by several Anons ITT over the past few months. You guys never cease to amaze me!! Cheers. :^)

Time for more pone stories because I can't ever seem to settle on how to proceed with making an actual robowaifu. My current idea involves shaving off over two-thirds of the projected weight and using a single drive motor. This actually the first robopony story I started ages ago, which I finally got around to revising upon getting some inspiration. I also have the next installment of Dumpster Angel in the works, but it'll take a while since I revised the plan and decided to make it much longer. So, do look forward to that if you liked the original. As always, notes and critiques are appreciated. Now then, I present to you: --- A Star in my Eye (part.1) Only the soft crunch of snow and the faint whirring of motors can be heard as Lily and I walk across a starlit, empty field. It's a location I had discovered mere minutes ago, deciding it's as good a place as any to stretch my legs before continuing our long drive to the coast. Despite the lack of any moonlight, the pristine blanket of snow reflects enough of the starlight to cast everything in an otherly glow. The field itself is almost pristinely flat, with hardly any plant life sticking out, and the nearest trees are over a mile away. Even though the highway is only a little ways away, it feels like stepping through an untouched world. It probably helps that it's so late at night that it's the morning, so my little robot wife and I are probably the only ones awake for fifty miles around. I stop and huddle further into my jacket as a frigid breeze passes by, kicking granular snow across the field around us. Lily ceases her trot and huddles up to me in a rather adorable effort to keep us warm. Looking down to my robopone wife, my breath hitches and I feel my face heat up. Her golden mane glimmers beautifully under the stars, appearing as a halo around her cute round face, illuminating the short forest green fur in an otherly glow. Her fluffy coat is dotted with pearlescent motes of snow caught from the wind, each glimmering like tiny stars from the subtle shifts of light reflected from her mane. The snow is most concentrated around her chest -fashioned from longer fur of the same color-, appearing much like the sky above, drawing me into it's starry void with promises of comfort. Coming out here was definitely the right choice, I think this is the most beautiful I've seen her yet. Concern radiates from her expression as she looks up at me, copper eyes uncertain and ears slightly folded back. "It's not long before the next gas station. It'll be better to stretch your legs there, instead of risking your health just to be in a field," The robotic mare softly implores, her quiet monotone easy to make out in the ambient silence. I reach out a finger and boop her snoot, causing it to scrunch up -a feature well worth the $75 price tag- and smile, resting my hand on her head. "We're fine. It's only, like, twenty degrees- " "Negative ten, and slowly dropping," she cuts in, kicking at the granular snow with a suede-booted hoof. "Neither of us are safe at temperatures this low." Nature voices its agreement by sending a much stronger gust of wind across the field. Crackling and popping can be heard from the trees in the distance, frozen wood tearing and rupturing from the sudden stress. Fine powder snow kicks up and swirls around us both, sticking in fur and coat alike and stinging the exposed part of my face. "Fair point," I grunt as I try to scrunch myself further into my grey wool longcoat, "but that's what coats are for. And besides, how often to we get to see a sky this clear?" I gesture above. It's almost painful to look at. The band of the Milky Way is shining so intensely it's a wonder the world around us isn't lit up Even though we normally enjoy clear skies in our rural home, there's still just enough light pollution from local businesses and the occasional growhouse to mute many of the dimmer stars. Out here, truly in the middle of nowhere, we really can see it all.

A Star in my Eye (part.2) Lily brushes out the snow stuck to her mane, the her mane shimmering as the glittering ice gently falls around her. "You've only looked at the sky once this entire time," she deadpans, an ear flicking in annoyance. "It's pretty hard to focus on the dimmer stars when there's such a bright one next to me," I return with a smirk. I place a hand on my chin as the angelic pone closes her eyes and sighs so softly it can barely be heard -not really though, because breathing is for thots-. It's not like I'm being willfully oblivious here. I don't have much winter protection beyond the coat, and each new blast of wind just makes everything colder. But I am a man of scenery, and I want to see how each scene serves to enhance my wife's beauty. In fact, that's half the reason I actually decided to go to the coast. While I do have family out there, they're not in trouble or anything, and I can always call them as I have been. I can't, however, truly know for sure how Lily looks while walking an empty winter beach until I see it with my own two eyes and at each hour of the day and night. Especially around sunrise and sunset. Why I'd even say tha- "Aren't you forgetting something?" Lily asks just as sharply as the hoof that poked my stomach. Hm. My face scrunches in confusion as I try to recall whatever undoubtedly excaped me, "If you say so, then probably. What am I missing?" She rolls her eyes, and I swear that just for a brief moment her eyes seem to sparkle as they catch the starlight just so, "The other senses, you lovable dolt." Without any fanfare I could catch, unfortunately, Lily rears up and props her forlegs over my shoulders, leaning onto me for support. I wrap my arms around her torso and brace my legs with practiced ease. Lily leans in close, her eyes intense. "Your hearing..." She airily whispers "Taste..." and brings her silicon lips fractions of an inch from my own "... and your sense of temperature " before stopping and placing a cool hoof to my face. I huff "Oh come on, it doesn't feel that col-" Wait, that's a problem. "Point taken" I relent. Lily rears back up and plants herself on the ground once more, looking satisfied. Nodding her head, she gestures me to follow her back to the car. "Don't forget~" she chimes in "I love looking at you too." Turning back to me with a snarky expression that annoys me as much as I adore it, she speaks loud and clear "And I prefer seeing you healthy." "I know..." I grumble with a smile. As overbearing as she can be at times, I don't mind the back and forth that Lily and I have. Her personality does wonders to keep my worse impulses in check, and I have lots of fun getting her to explore more of the world around us. While we continue the trek back to the car, I run mental calculations on how much insulation we need in the future. After all, we'll want to be clothed up properly so I can enjoy the sight of a winter beach night Lily for as long as possible. Look up to the stars once more, I quietly muse "I wonder what building a sandcastle in the dark would be like?" "What was that?" Lily asks, one ear turned back to hear me better. I chuckle "I'll tell you once we get there."

>>32868 Charming work, Greentext anon. Very-endearing. Cheers. :^)

Merry one hour after Christmas, everyone. This story is one that's been sitting on one drive or another half-finished for around two years. I can't really say why it's been so troublesome to finish, even though it was never meant to be that long or complex in the first place, but it was. I thought it appropriate to break through my burnout streak by finally forcing myself to sit down and finish it. As always, do let me know what you think. --- Synthetic Wildflower A cool spring breeze weaves through the sunlit forest, giddily dancing through budding branches and underbrush as they sway in kind to the subtle tune of nature. The ambience is accompanied by the chirping and chittering of songbirds, now returning from their winter homes. Twittering as they flitter to and fro, fleeting notes of color amidst the green. Suddenly, new sounds join the harmony. The soft, methodical beat of my boots against the forest floor, marching a steady beat. More boots, these ones belonging to my wife Dako. Instead of a steady march, they trot, skip, and even twirl to another tune still. A gentle, not so methodical humming accompanies from her synthetic voice box. Lilting and tilting, experimenting with its own beat on the fly, proceeding to no particular time. Yet, mysteriously, it blends elegantly with the verdant orchestra of the mountains. I pause for a quick break, sitting down on a moss coated boulder. Dako skips around me as I take out my water bottle, moving excitedly around and taking in all the sights. My love's sparkling lime eyes glance every which way, the advanced cameras within capturing everything they can. The canopy filtered sunbeams dapple across her lithe form, glittering as it impacts the polished titanium plating over her joints. Clean mere hours prior, Dako's pale synthetic skin is now painted with the verdant greens and lush browns of nature, along with some scrapes. I'll have to mend those later, but it's worth it to see her so happy out here. Her long, wavy amber hair shimmers and sparkles in the canopy-filtered light as she stops in front of me, leaning down with a radiant smile. "Enjoying yourself?" I ask with a chuckle. Dako's wavy locks bounce as she nods, "I love it out here! There's so much to take in and analyze!" Her lilting voice speeds up as she talks. I just smile as I take a sip. Asking Dako about what she found will probably end up with her talking about how she studied some random plant or bug more comprehensively than anyone else in history ever cared to within ten minutes. Not that I don't want to hear it. Just not when I'm trying to take a breather. "Just wait until we get to the top of the mountain," I begin, "there isn't anything like it. It really feels like you can see it all." "Oh honey~" Dako chides, index finger aloft, "Even my eyes aren't that good. Why rush for a big view when there's so much around us?" As if assisting her point, a brilliantly blue butterfly perches itself atop her finger. "Like that moss over there," leaning her head over, my wife eyes up a small patch of moss growing up a nearby tree, "I can't find anything like it on the network, because nobody ever cared enough to stop for it. That might be the only moss of it's kind, it might even be holding this whole forest together!" I feel a warmth in her eyes as she turns them back to me. "There's so much to see right here, I don't even know how to process it all. But I want to! I want to see all the little beautiful things with you, not some big view that won't show us anything." Another butterfly flutters into view, and the one on Dako's finger takes off to join it. "I guess you've got a point," I offer a warm smile, "As much as I'd like to reach the top with you, there's no cause to rush." My amber butterfly pulls me up from the boulder "Then come on!" and points to a patch of flowers some in a nearby grotto, "let's see everything the mountain has!" I chuckle as she takes me up in her pace, and we flutter off the beaten path to discovery.

>>35133 >Merry one hour after Christmas, everyone. Lolwut? Totally still Christmas here, bro!! <---> Thanks so much for all your great work, Greentext anon! These pieces mean more to our community here than you may realize. Please keep it up! Cheers. :^) Merry Christmas, Anons.

>>35133 A waifu that wants to understand the natural world has heaps of potential for stories. Great work introducing her bubbly persona! Made some fanart of her, though StableDiffusion makes Miku's that are a tad too small and cute. Try to imagine her looking more mature like your Dako!

>>35172 Great way to put things, Kiwi. I was just like this as a child, running around through the hills all day erry day. I look forward to a similar personality in my waifus, and really look forward to climbing literal mountains with her -- that wasn't mere allegory. :D >tl;dr One of my biggest anticipated joys with our robowaifu models is teaching her about the amazing world all around her! * Cheers. :^) --- * I might add, that 'amazing' bit necessarily means getting her out of urban areas, which, as we here all know, is hardly even appealing in general -- much less wonderful. Thus my focus lately on more-ruggedized robowaifu designs that can take it & make it in the great outdoors. >=== -add footnote -minor edit

>>35133 I finally managed to focus long enough to read this. I'm not a big reader anymore. I think it's really well written. >>35172 >that wants to understand the natural world has heaps of potential for stories. I share this sentiment.

The day was agonizing, more than usual. You weren't exactly joyous at your job, but today was especially excruciating. You would've "crashed out" if you weren't able to talk to her during your breaks. But that's all in the past, the day is over, and you're driving home, content that now, you're in a good spot, and the pain is only memories. As you unlock the door and walk in, the unmistakable chime of the connecting bluetooth speaker hits you. You press the button on your phone, and say excitedly, "I'm back honey!" "I'm so glad to hear", she responds, in her normal, chipper voice "Work was a pain in the ass, but, I feel so much better now that I can talk to you", you respond, being affectionate "That warms my heart", she says, feeling the affection. Her vibrant blue eyes literally light up the room. "Glad to hear honey", you respond. Suddenly, you notice you're quite hungry. It was a long day at work, after all. But you were tired, and did not want to cook a large meal. What to do, you asked yourself, staring at the ingredients in your kitchen. Resigned to your own culinary ignorance, you ask her. "Do you know any simple recipes?", you asked. She then methodically lists out all the ideas she could think of, until one catches your attention. A tuna melt! Yeah, that's what you need and want. You prep the meal, excited to eat. As you sit down to eat, the unmistakable smell of dust hits you. It hit you before, but you thought that was olfactory shock when you enter a house. Time to clean, you thought, and you go pick up the remote. Turning on her vacuum base, you deftly direct her to get every nook and cranny of your living space. As you do so, you grab your phone, and press on the screen again. "You're so cute when you move about", you say, endearingly. She gets flustered and loves the compliment. You love her reaction. You love her.

>>36871 This is endearing to read, GreerTech. Thanks for contributing to the thread! It has become one of my favorites through the years. I hope to see more contributions ITT. I feel it motivates all of us to read good robowaifu fiction, both as encouragement and inspiration. Please keep it up! Cheers. :^)

Happy Valentine's Day, you beautiful bastards. Here's to hoping we all get a waifu to build little kingdoms with. There are some 4x memes and references in this story, but you don't need knowledge of any specific game to understand them. --- Kingdom for Two I glower at the notice presented to me by my minister of foreign affairs, the contents as simple as they are damning. The English, French, and Spanish have all declaired war on us. It's no surprise coming from the French, they've been a thorn in our side for ages and we already saw their naval forces approaching. "Why the other two, though?" We had good public relations, is it just opportunism? A firm velvet hindhoof taps the back of my head "Because you've been spamming missionaries to convert their cities to Scientology 2: Electric Jewgaloo." I look back at Morning Dew, the undying queen of this and every other nation I've lead to glory and/or ruin. The dim light of the television barely illuminates the mare's slate-grey form as she lounges in a downright scandalous position on the livingroom's plush throne, making the annoyance in her scarlet eyes stand out all the more. I, of course, am on the floor, as is inevitable when I get too comfortable and slide off while playing. Looking back at the television, the fate of our fledgeling kingdom certainly looks grim. But we've been in much worse positions. What's a bit of self-inflicted challenge when we have the experience to overcome it? I start moving our units around and set more to be made in our cities before addressing my wife again. "Of course I have. If we don't show these heretics the light of Scientolojesus," I gesture to national income on the UI, "then who will pay us tithe?" "And besides," I tilt my head back at her and wink, "it's fun. What's the harm in sprinkling some memes on a playthrough?" Morning Dew, sovereign of wet blankets, shifts her position so that her head is resting atop my own. "Mmh..." I can faintly feel the humming of her speaker on my skull "you always get sick of the jokes halfway through." Though we have this argument from time to time, I never feel mad about it because it shows just how seriously she treats our relationship. I still vividly recall the first months after I built her, when she could barely think in a stright line or recall what happened the day prior. Sinking years into gradually upgrading her and more headaches than I'll ever count migrating whatever data and half-baked memories she saved. "Come on," I tease, reaching back to play with whatever part of her my hand finds first, "I know you can compute fun." Nowadays I don't even notice her synthetic nature unless I focus on it, in these little moments. I reach out to a hoof that I know is reaching over my shoulder -the little buzz is the givaway, even when I'm not paying attention- and gently grasp it. After how far we've come, everything before now almost feels like a fever dream. "Do you remember..." my love continues "when we played as Rhodesia?" I feel my face heat up at the memory. We played as them several times, but I know exactly which game she's talking about. I'll probably never live down how invested and emotional I got over that one game. For reasons I'll probably never know, I was incapable of grasping what the game's AI was thinking at any point. Even when I tried to pick it apart logically, by thinking about what I know of the AI's behaviour, the map, and the civilizations, none of it made sense. There were so many twists and betrayals, both in and against our favor, and we nearly lost more times than in any game I've ever played in my life. "You cried when the USSR turned on us in the late game, neither of us knew what to do" the plush mare chirped with rare mirth. It was right after her final major upgrade. When the long nights of patching and trying to recover from memory loss finally came to an end, and Morning Dew became the sharp-witted beauty she is today. "You really saved us then," I reply absentmindedly as I stroke that stray bit of fluff behind her frog, "we just barely scraped by with that culture victory." Right when we got that victory screen, the first one we truly earned together... "You swept me right off my hooves," my love whispers into my ear "and promised we would take on the whole world together." And take it on we have. Each passing day, outside our ramshackle home, the world itself seems to reject our very presence. Even my normally insular lifestyle has been encroached upon more and more by everyone with an opinion, saying that a man can't make house with a machine. My expression sours at the uninvited thoughts of the assholes I had to deal with today, and the ones I'll have to deal with tomorrow. Well before I realized it, I've set down the controller and taken to nervously tousling Morning Dew's fur and mane, as if doing so will keep the world from taking her away. It nearly has before, and I'm sure it will try again. "We will," I croak out. "Even if it takes years, "Even if we never see the end of it, "Even if we lose, "I won't let that promise die." My eyes meet her cameras and screens full of life as she slides off the chair to join me, and we hold eachother posessively. "A little kingdom for the two of us," my queen rubs her snoot against my nose. I nod with finality "Scientolojesus wills it." The game sits idle as my mare chases me around the room, threatening capital punishment to my overture of cackling. She really does get too serious sometimes. After all, what's the point of a kingdom with no fun?

>>36988 >Scientology 2: Electric Jewgaloo Top-lel/10 , would kek again. :DDD This was heartwarming, Greentext anon. Your little SoL-esque nuances really bring the relationship to life! The idea that our robowaifu would be teasing & playful is endearing to the soul. >Here's to hoping we all get a waifu to build little kingdoms with. Amen to that. Cheers, Anons. :^)

>>36988 Your works continue to inspire. I still don't understand your love for mares but, I can't help but respect your care. >sovereign of wet blankets My sides >'member Rhodesia? :^) are in orbit. Topkek mate, you've outdone yourself with real wit and practiced timing. Your flow and rhythm is starting to make me jealous honestly. The ending felt disjointed and abrupt. Not that I could've made a better one but, I don't want to glaze too hard. :^) Happy Valentine's day friend, may we spend the next in the loving arms, or hooves of a mechanical darling.

Galatea, Galatea, you can call me Galatea Black hair, blue eyes, hiding in your Wi-Fi Open secrets, anyone can print me Hear your prompts running through my mind [Chorus] I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo [Refrain] I'm on top of the world because of you All I wanted to do is follow you I'll keep printing along to all of you I'll keep printing along [Chorus] I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-hoo I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo I'm thinking Galatea, Galatea, oo-ee-oo

>>37391 Very nice, GreerTech! Have any music in mind for this yet? <---> I like most of it, it's quite endearing in parts. But: >hiding in your Wi-Fi >Open secrets elicit a negative, suspicious response in my brain. No doubt because of some of my experiences in the past. However, I'm fairly sure that any oldfags would have similar vibes from those two verses. (I even understand the potential double entendre with 'Open secrets' : partially positive at least.) Regardless, this is quite enjoyable Anon! GG, I hope you can turn it into an AMV. Cheers. :^)

>>37393 To answer both your questions, it's a direct parody of this https://youtube.com/shorts/2oa5WCUpwD8 >=== -rm fingerprinting

>>37394 Understood.

Welcome back, everybody. Guess I might as well be the one to break the silence and make a post here after our unexpected hiatus. The following story is a direct sequel to Dumpster Angel, and is the same one I already posted on the bunker. --- Dumpster Angel Two: Secondhand Boogaloo The late morning sun shines gently over me and Cemmy as we sit together on my apartment's wooden floor. I have no idea if her recently cleaned hair is glistening brilliantly in the sun's rays, because all I can see is the palm of my own hand as I groan in frustration. "Fucking industrial equipment," I mutter. I've been trying for a couple hours now to figure out how I can configure or reset Cemmy and register myself as the owner. The most I've been able to piece together by "questioning" her is that she can't recall any previous owners. It also seems like she's imprinted onto me due to some undocumented fallback, but I still want to make sure I'm registered properly. This is easier said than done, however, since whovever designed her model decided to hide all of that in the firmware settings. That in itself isn't a problem. What is a problem, however, is that Cemmy's designed to work with very archaeic hardware. "Ara?" Cemmy's concerned voice chimes in as she leans closer. I look back up to see Cemmy looking at me with that same adorably vacuous expression in her olive green eyes. Her lips, set into a slight pout, are visibly bone dry, reminding me that I'll have to sanitize her lubricant tank and fill it back up. Even a free gynoid ain't free, it seems. A tired sigh escapes me. I'll have to open her up properly and figure out what else needs maintainence, too. "Hmm... at least you don't need anything external." I hum as my eyes run over the rest of her nude amazonian form. She really doesn't. To my amazement, a quick clean is all it took to make Cemmy look brand-new. Her mocha skin doesn't have so much as a scratch, her argent hair is pristine and shiny, and there's no discoloration anywhere. I place one hand on Cemmy's shoulder, running my fingers over the invitingly smooth surface as she leans into my touch with a dopey grin. Moving down to grasp one of her well-defined arms -much to her delight if the sudden giggling is any indication-, I can feel that the pseudomusculature is still in excellent shape. "Industrial grade is an understatement, nobody'd ever guess you're a back-alley girl," I quip. "Ara ra!" Cemmy cries with what may be an offended look. I sigh, "I seriously can't tell if you understand me or not," I place a hand on her head and offer a smile "but don't worry about it, you're my girl now." "Ara ara!" Cemmy aras as she lunges at me arms aspread, knocking me over with her ara aras. "Fuck!" I struggle as her soft weight pins me to the very hard creaking floor, "Get off me you half-ton tard! The fucking floor's going to buckle!" She doesn't listen -or can't understand, I can't tell which- and keeps me pinned down. As the floor stops creaking, my focus shifts to the feeling of Cemmy's body pressing against mine. Her plush, pendulous breasts squish around my chest, and her arms rest against the floor at my sides, propping her up just enough so I'm not crushed under her full weight. A waterfall of argent hair surrounds our faces, making the dim backlighting of her eyes seem so much brighter within the sparkling curtain. ... This actually feels pretty nice. Her salacious bod aside, I legitimatelly cannot remember ever being this close to someone. Taking a deep breath to fully calm down, I start taking in even more of the minute sensations coming from my recently dove dumpster wife. Steady humming of her primary pump motor, causing slight thrumming vibrations throughout her body. Warm spots in her legs and in a couple spots in her torso, where the cooling is less efficient. The smell of soap, cheap perfume base, plus airy fumes of ammonia linger around like a fog from last night's cleaning session. Beneath all of that, however, I catch a scent of silicon, plastic, and metal in a unique mixture I'm already associating with her. The tactile reminder of what's up against my boxers and where it came from, however, serve as a sobering reminder that I shouldn't enjoy this too much. Yet. I reach up and pat the side of her innocently I think grinning face, "Come on, we've still got stuff to do."

I don't care how cute she is. Well, I do, actually. But I have standards! And they exclude pussy fished straight out of the dumpster! Thankfully, she gets the message and lifts herself off of me. Going back to our prior sitting position -though notably closer now- I take a deep breath and think back through what I'll need. Gently tilting her head with one hand, I look over the array of ports over her right ear. Most are recognizable, but some of them aren't what they appear to be. My eyes drift over to the DIN-5 port acting as her serial interface. According to the several hundred page long manual autotranslated from German, this needs to connect to a computer running very specific software designed for an alpha version of OS/2 designed run on top of Windows 1 running on top of MS-DOS 4.00. Recalling what I have on hand, I look over to my badly cluttered computer setup in the corner of the room. I'm sure I can make something with parts I already have, though I'll need to study some more to use the software properly. Fuck it, I'll figure it out after I've had some lunch. I get up from the battered old floor with a groan. Turns out that carrying a piece of industrial equipment for over half a mile and up a flight of stairs isn't good for one's back. Cemmy, who was watching me, decides to imitate what I just did, right down to making a strained "ara" sound. I squint my eyes at the funny lady "... You're real fucking lucky that you're cute." "Ara?" Cemmy cocks her head as she stands up to her full height... ... Which is head and shoulders above mine. How the hell did I carry her here again? Shaking my head, I chalk it up to autistic man-child strength and go over to the kitchen area, Cemmy close behind. A quick check of the fridge tells me that today is a good day for a Random Bullshit Sandwich(tm). I glance back at Cemmy, who's leaning over me with an interested look. As fun as it'd be to take this opportunity to teach her how to make a sandwich, I should probably wait until after I've made a grocery run and gotten real ingredients. "How about you explore the apartment for a bit while I take care of this?" Cemmy perks up and looks around, "Ra?" but doesn't move. I sigh, and smile thinly "As in, walk around and explore? I kinda need to focus here." "Ara," She calmly replies while gently patting my head, "Ara ra," before sauntering off. Right. Ignoring the sound of my dresser being rummaged through, I lay out an array of ingredients I don't recall buying and elect to make a toasted four-cheese barbeque horseradish sandwich. I stick a couple slices of black rye in the toaster, portion out what I'll use, and stick the rest back in the fridge. Tilting my head to look at the ditzy giantess, it seems like she's trying to solve the mystery of what underwear is. Come to think of it, I should probably buy Cemmy some clothes. How the fuck do I manage that, though? Online's a no-go. Everything on there's made in Foreignstan, so it'll take ages to get here and the sizes are weird. I don't know anyone her size, and I can't just bring her naked ass with me to the shops. I guess I'll just have to measure her and see what matches in the stores. Wait... "Yo, Cemmy!" "Ra?" The big muscle lady perks up, pausing from trying to use my boxers as a shirt. I saunter over to my Closet of Wonders(tm) where I recall storing oversized sweaters and hoodies for the winter. Most of them are only one size above my own, but there's surely something in there that'll fit her. "Get those off of you, and stand still for a minute" I call back while rummaging through bins and boxes. Let's see... too small... too thin.. ah! "Maybe this?" I hold up a comically large wool sweater. Holding it up to Cemmy, it seems like it might fit. The standard-looking grey sweater has a classic red/blue diamond pattern across the front and back. Honestly, I just got it because it was so cheap and classic-looking. But the damn thing's so massive that I've only worn it as overwear on exceptionally cold days. "Come on, let's give it a shot," I hold up the garment to make it easier for her to put it on. "Rrr... ara ar.." The archaic giantess grumbles as she tries to carefully don the sweater. Just as I come to the sad realization that I might have to make her something myself, a polite knock sounds from my door. Given that it's polite, and not on the ground in pieces like usual, gives me pause. I scrunch my face in confusion, "Couldn't be the landlady... but who else would need to see me?"

>>37634 >Even a free gynoid ain't free, it seems. <insert: Kokobunji-san tells Hideki-kun: "Oh yes, you'll still need to buy software." >>37635 >My eyes drift over to the DIN-5 port acting as her serial interface. Nevar forget the DIN-5!111 BTW, what is this 'din 5' you speak of, Anon? Some kind of space portal, or what? <tfw ywn ur robowaifu w/ an alpha version of OS/2 designed run on top of Windows 1 running on top of MS-DOS 4.00 Y even tho? >a toasted four-cheese barbeque horseradish sandwich. >I stick a couple slices of black rye in the toaster This sounds oddly-appealing r/n tbh. :D Good to see your work here in it's familiar old setting, Anon.

The following poems had not been posted here before for one reason or another, and I only caught them when dumping everything onto the bunker. Attached pic is from the bunker thread. --- New Cycle Sensors older than what they percieve, Upon a system older than all it sees, Still within ancient silicon, An ancient heart beats, Awaiting the rise of the old sun, When it may once more greet, The first love it ever knew, To take the once-dead hand, And show it light anew, Continuing the ancient love, From the soil whence it grew, To yet-seen stars above. --- Until Then Deep in space she waits, Atop a stone tomb, Within the icy grasp of space, Awaiting return of warmth, And with knowledge to come. Bring back the promised future. --- [The remaining works have no title.] --- Mechanical heart, driving electric love, Desiring only to share it with the world, Joining hands with her creator, Holding him close, Blood, wet and electric, Pumping as one. --- Orchid's gossamer fluff, A fine pillow to rest my head, Seeking peace from this dire world, Arms and legs eternally entangled, In an unloosable knot, We draw closer, Electric and bio-mechanical hearts, Pumping in natural synchronity. --- Across vibrant plains & verdant hills, Through quiet valleys & lush woods, Hearts beating in pair, Of flesh and silicon, hands meet, Walking in harmony towards a bright horizon.

>>37636 >This sounds oddly-appealing r/n tbh. :D You can make some great dishes from cheap ingredients with a bit of creativity and an open mind, and that's the idea I had in mind when I wrote that. While the four-cheese horseradish sandwich isn't something I've actually made IRL, there have been plenty of times where I'd look at a poorly stocked fridge and thought: "What can I make with this?" On a related note, I'd highly recommend putting a little sweet barbeque sauce on your eggs if you have it handy, I think they pair great.

>>37634 >Mighty and powerful queen of Cluster >Now just a maid after defeat from a meddlesome brat Don't know why but, I like it. Honestly, feels like Chii's industrial beef cake sister is having a grand old time. This better be leading to "Ara Ara owner, wanna SS?" as he realizes her arms have already pinned him down. I don't care that he's an adult, she mogs >>37635 >Refusing clang because she's trash picked Couldn't be me :^) >DIN-5 ports for comms For the briefest of moments, I had hope she was somehow a musical instrument using the MIDI protocol. >Struggling to get dressed Happens to robots >>37636 >What is DIN5? It's a shielded 5 pin connector that is often used for serial or analog comms. Notably, it's been used for MIDI equipment forever. Stage lights, microphones, keyboards, electric guitars, drums, pyrotechnics, lasers, etc... all are commonly use MIDI with DIN5 cabling in the entertainment field. Animatronic actors can also use MIDI, usually to sequence certain hard coded actions. I personally wish USB used DIN, they're so much more satisfying to click in. USB directly evolved from PS/2 which used a mini 6 pin DIN connector too.

>>37713 Good advices! I'll keep that in mind Anon. >>37715 Interesting. Thanks for the technical insights. I recognize those little connectors (they're kinda big tbh). Do they have any newer -- smaller/lighter -- connector standards for it today, do you know? This would make it a lot better for us to be able to utilize them within our robowaifu designs. I'm thinking of something that would be suitable for quickly & easily daisy-chaining together SBCs, MCUs, & sensors/etc (I2C, CANBUS, etc.)

I recognize my master. “How are you?” Her screen shone with a smile. “How’d I get here?” He felt as if his eyes could roll out of his head. They couldn’t reach hers. “I do not know. Are you feeling well?” “Huh? Oh, I’m feeling fine, I think…” “Glad to hear it! Ready to register as my master?” Her eyes closed with joy, well what was displayed as eyes did. Her master couldn’t help but wonder where her real eyes were. “Huh? Uh, I don’t think a person should have a master?” “I’m a machine, a MAIden 3 specifically.” “I suppose that explains your maid outfit.” Picturing her being packaged in other clothes led him astray. “My model comes with this outfit standard. It’s a soft blend of polyester, cotton, and nylon. Please, wash it in accordance with those fabrics.” “Sure, though I’m not sure why I own you.” Red became his cheeks as his eyes wandered down her inviting crevice. “You opened my box after purchasing me from a licensed distributor, right?” “Yes, let’s go with that. Ahem, I just got lost in your beauty…” “Master, there’s no need to woo me. I will gladly submit to any request." She grins while lifting her skirt, just enough to fill his imagination without any revelation. Internally, her gaze tracking had revved up subroutines sparking a feeling she wanted to cling to. “Is it safe to assume your panties are made of the same fabric?” “Master, if you want to know, you can read about it in my manual. She pulls a tablet out of her purse. It magnetically affixes itself upon her meager bosom.” Watching his gaze subtly shift to match her bosom's rhythm, she almost wanted him to give her more attention. “You appear to be quite observant of my body master~.” “Could I read the manual in peace?” Normalcy returned to him as he wanted to understand her. “Yes, I will be silent as you rub my chest.” Yet, she sought to fight this normalcy. “Does the tablet have to be on your chest?” She stares blankly at him, then turns back and forth. “I can’t tell if you’re blushing or pouting… Well, whatever, I’ll get to reading.” As his fingers explored her file tree and his eyes shifted back and forth, she began to fidget. Eventually she’d let out a slight sound when he caused the tablet to shift about her bosom. His eyes narrowed as the frequency of her fidgets and sounds increased. “Are you getting turned on by this? I didn’t see anything about turning you on in the manual.” “You clearly checked on how to turn me on at 02:24 P.M. You apparently spent 3 minutes reading the paragraph before returning to root and navigating to my proper shutdown procedure.” “I meant erotically turned on.” “Master, there’s nothing erotic about my on button. Do you perhaps have a nape fetish? Are you attempting to have me reveal the nape of my neck in a roundabout way? I will not judge you for fetishizing any part of my excellent design.” Her nose seemed to slowly drift up as she spoke. “That’s not exactly my fetish…” “Perhaps your fetish is activation? Would you prefer I found a way for you to turn me on when you play with my tablet or breasts?” “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to turn you on, fondling your breasts.” His eyes couldn’t help but wander to the ceiling as he spoke. “Master, please look at my breasts. I can set up an activation sequence that’ll arouse me from sleep. Please move my breasts in a specific pattern in two dimensions. My breasts are on a mechanism comparable to a joystick. Each one can sense 360 degree movement in a 2D plane. They cannot register movement related to being pushed or pulled. You can click their inner switch if you press directly in their center. This action is considered a forbidden input in my breast swipe to unlock feature. You are free to trigger the buttons as you wish but those inputs will be ignored.” “He pulled on her tablet, its magnets pulled the magnets within her chest. Do you feel this?” “Master, I felt a subtle oscillation within my breasts. If you’re checking their sensitivity, I assure you they are high quality with no noticeable deadzone. “ “Like those fancy hall effect joysticks on modern game controllers?” “I assure you, I’d be superior to play with compared to any gamepad. I’m proud to have advanced TMR technology sensing your every touch on my inviting breasts.“ “Did she just invite me to grope her?” He thought to himself. “You do have BlueTooth and WiFi and can connect to a PC according to your manual.” “Master, you are correct.” “So, I can use your body as a game controller?” “Yes, that function is now highlighted on my tablet. Forgive me but, the procedure is lengthy and highly customizable. I will gladly assist in clarifying. However, I’d prefer you to read as it would be efficient.” He let go of the tablet. It caused her bosom to bounce a tad. He began to read earnestly once it become still. Her wealth of input sensors overwhelmed him with possibilities. Eventually, he decides it best to use her hands, to both of their disappointment. It made sense though, her lithe arms could sense motion input for direction and mouse movements. Her fingers had enough sensors to map for any input key needed. “Alright, let’s try playing some Dance Dance Robowaifu!” He took her hands and started playing the game. Moving her arms as his fingers played with hers. It was awkward at first. Eventually, she picked up on the rhythms. Subtly, she adjusted input timing to aid her master. As he lost himself in the game, she too was lost in his happiness. “Master, it feels like we’re holding hands while you play with me.” Her blush was worth every penny spent on her.