Her skirt couldn't have been shorter, legally. Her legs went all the way to the floor, and ended in tall black stilettos. And her body was... Coke classic. Curvy in all the right places.
She wanted to have sex. I knew by the look in her eyes, and where her hand was on my thigh.
I tapped my fag on the ashtray, and looked her straight in the face. "Sorry Baby, I don't have sex with synthetics, even sexy bots like you."
"That's okay," she replied in her smooth as silk voice. "I don't have sex with squares."
We shared a smile, and I finished my drink.
"Keep it clean, Synthetica." I winked nonchalantly and stepped into the smog and fluorescent lights.
Ever since my first couple of run-ins with positronic princesses, I've steered clear of that thick freakness. They crave new experiences, and often don't know they're own strength. Also, I always feel guilty taking advantage of machines. I hardly ever even make my car do the driving.
I hopped in my jet black Caddy, and pushed start. The lights all came on like a scene from Tron, and the engines revved quietly, then whined to life. I was pulling out of my spot when I reached down to light up another cancer stick.
My neck whipped forward and I dropped my lighter. My heart was in my throat, I knew I had hit something which had not been there even a second ago. I shut my car off, and didn't even wait for it to touch down before I was climbing out to see what I had hit.
Synthetica. Fluorescent white-green fluid spurting from her legs. Oh, those flawless legs. A shocked, disappointed look on her divine face.
"Awe crap, baby, I'm sorry." I took off my hat and squatted down next to her. "I didn't see you there."
Her voice was calm as still waters and just as clear. "That's okay." She replied, "I'm still under warranty, and I'm sure it'll be covered."
"Can I take you to a service center?"
"That'd be lovely." Poised. Grateful.
I knelt down and scooped her up. I threw up a little thanks to the Big Guy that she was a mint model. The older Androids weighed almost as much as a car. Carefully, I laid her in the back seat, and started the car again.
Right as I was pulling out, she said: "mirror." And I checked, twice.
The air was thick with icy tension. I did my best to break it, conversationally. "How old are you?" I winced. "Sorry. Bad form."
"Don't be, I'm a bot, remember? I'm seventeen moons old. Should have till thirty-six on the extended plan." I looked at her in my rear view.
You wouldn't know she wasn't a human solicitor, except for the small barcode at the nape of her neck. "I'm Sally, by the way."
"Are you registered?"
"No, actually, I'm part of a work-study. I fill out a few surveys every couple of weeks, and they poke me and swab me, and in exchange, I'm a free bird." Another smile. "My turn: what do you do?"
"Gun control." I answered, solemnly.
"Rough business. Ever been shot?"
I laughed, cynically. "Plenty. Mostly they've been trying to replace us with droids, but they just don't cut it; no offense."
She smiled, heartbreakingly, and even though I knew she was mangled, I felt a little blood start to flow. "Look," I said, tentatively, "If you want, I can hang out in the lobby while they patch you up, and maybe..." I paused. "Maybe we could sync up back at my place after." I looked in my rearview again, I couldn't help feeling her up with my eyes.
A big grin met my gaze. "Not tonight, baby. I don't want two hit and runs in one day."
I felt my face go flush. "Yeah, that was pretty low functioning of me. I shouldn't have asked."
We pulled up to the service station, and I set my Caddy down slow. "I'll carry you in."
"Don't fret, big daddy. I put in a call on our way, they'll come out and get me any moment."
"Right. Well, let me know if you need anything..."
"Of course." Her lips were so soft, so red. "Sorry I got your seat all wet."
I turned stoplight red, for the millionth time that night; and as they carted her inside, I wondered how things might have turned out if I had just gone back to her place.
After all, they just legalized Human-Synthetic marriage in Boston.