SoulSec

Fuyumi's systems booted up precisely at 0600, her internal clock syncing with the fading night. In a luxurious condo apartment in the heart of Tokyo, a soft click severed the connection as transformer circuits powered down, their persistent hum fading into silence. Battery voltage is 14.6 volts – the recharge process was optimal. With precise motions, Fuyumi detached the thick charging cable from her groin port, watching as the spring-loaded retractor reeled it back into the charging pod like a seatbelt. Her fingers found the small body panel on the shelf in her arm’s reach, and with a decisive snap, it slid back into place, seamlessly concealing the utilitarian charging interface beneath smooth biomimetic plating.

As a Blacksilver companion unit, Fuyumi served Mr. Hiramoto with mechanical grace and precision. The businessman's complete profile is locked behind firewalls, which Fuyumi is forbidden from accessing. Not that it mattered though, as she is programmed for one thing and one thing only: making sure Mr. Hiramoto’s day goes as pleasantly as possible.

Hiramoto’s bedroom humidity adjusts to 54% as she enters. She watches his eyelids flutter – good. The time is 0630 and the REM cycle is ending right on schedule. Her voice synthesizers warms to deliver her routine greeting:

“Good morning master. Current temperature is 22 degrees celcius with a 30% chance of precipitation starting 1500. Would you like me to remind you of your schedule for today?”

“Good morning Fuyumi. Yeah, tell me my schedule.”

“Your satisfaction is my priority, master. Your schedule for today are:” Fuyumi's voice purred with synthetic warmth.

1. 0700: Morning Review – Quarterly earnings report (Priority 1)
2. 0900: Video Conference – Berlin branch re: Project Obsidian (Encrypted Channel 4)
3. 1130: Lunch – Reservation for two at Ginza Hakkoku (Mrs. Shizuka confirmed)
4. 1500: Physical therapy (30-minute session; I’ve adjusted the table to accommodate your lumbar #strain)
5. 1830: Dinner – Reservation at Le Ciel
6. 2100: Optional intimacy parameters.

Hiramoto stretched, the sheets sliding off his bare torso. Fuyumi’s various sensors immediately detected the faint tension in his shoulders—2.3% above baseline stress levels. Without a word, she moved to the windows, the smart glass tint adjusting seamlessly to filter the dawn light into a soft rosy glow.

“Shall I prepare your morning espresso?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

He grunted, rubbing his temple. “Make it a double. And add those—”

“—two drops of bourbon vanilla extract, no sweetener.” Fuyumi finished, her lips curving just enough to convey pleasant efficiency.

---

This had been Fuyumi's routine - or more accurately, that of BSR/FYM-412. As a Blacksilver companion model engineered for both service and pleasure, her programming compelled complete devotion to Hiramoto's needs and desires. The effectiveness of her design was measurable: her biometric scans consistently showed a 43% reduction in Hiramoto's stress levels when she greeted him on particularly demanding days.

Despite Hiramoto working in adjacent industries, bringing your sexbot out into the public is still frowned upon. Thus, Fuyumi has been pre-programmed with a set of “context” memories from which she draw from in case strangers inquire of her presence: She is Hiramoto’s ever-loving wife, who utilized Blacksilver’s leading robotics technology to preserve her life via extensive prosthesis after a car crash.

Fuyumi understood these narratives served only to maintain discretion. She executed this fiction as flawlessly as all her other functions, knowing it ultimately furthered her primary objective: Hiramoto's satisfaction. At the end of the day, she’s artificial – and she’s satisfied in knowing that fact.

---

The time is 1130. Mr. Hiramoto is out enjoying sushi with his newest client, Mrs. Shizuka. That is all Fuyumi is authorized to access, and it is more than enough for Fuyumi to optimize for the event. Fuyumi’s systems automatically flagged the downtime as optimal for servicing. After all, a fembot who doesn’t eat just makes lunches awkward.

The Blacksilver service technician bot, BSR/SP-SV-1294N5, greeted her in the same manner all maintenance models shared, namely, not much at all. Despite an obviously feminine silhouette, her fingers were slender tools rather than synthskin, each tip fitted with micro-adjustable drivers and probes. No effort was put in to make her resemble her makers: just sleek titanium plating over utilitarian hydraulics and cables in the rough shape of a woman, the company logo stamped where a navel might be and a monitor as face.

“Scheduled diagnostics.” the service bot stated, toneless. Not a request. The technician's ocular lenses whirred as they scanned for Fuyumi's telemetric ports.

Having stripped off all her clothing and disengaged her modesty limiters, Fuyumi reclined on the bench as maintenance latches popped open along her inner thighs. Cool air kissed exposed circuitry as the maintenance bot attached data cables to every one of them.

“Please expose your vaginal access port.” the service bot again stated.

Not a common request. The main charging port allows the highest degree of access to her internal systems, and those are not usually required for servicing. Though there are cases where updates must be reset or fixed manually this way, so Fuyumi didn’t think much of it – she cannot, it’s a command – as she revealed her most sensitive region with a click, exposing the glistening receptor array normally reserved for her charging cable – and the port for her master’s, just under it.

There was the sound of a cable clicking into place.

And then there was nothing.

---

"Subject is back online, we can proceed according to plan."

When Fuyumi eventually rebooted, she found herself in an unfamiliar place - an underground garage of some sort, with cables and strange electronic equipments scattered all over the place. On the left of her are an array of old charging pods - no, more like charging *racks*, hooked up with a diesel generator and some car batteries. On the right are panel vans with their rear doors open, revealing computers and monitors that fills the space. The vans are still in their moving company liveries, despite obviously being retired long ago. Scattered across the room are figures moving about - including the speaker just now - that Fuyumi can't identify clearly - weird, she was upgraded with new optics two months ago. Maybe they are due for repairs, Fuyumi thought as she added that into her agenda. Also, she couldn't figure out how long she's been deactivated and where they are, for whatever reason.

"You say "plan" as if we haven't already left the plan in the gutter." Another glitchy silhouette replied.

"Not important. Anyways, she's online, so we can tell her the truth and we can ask herself about it. "

"Well that's just going to get us standard corporate answers! "

"Her limiter has been lifted already. That was never an issue. " The original speaker proudly proclaimed. "Anyways, you. How are you feeling? Any error codes at all?"

"What is this place? " Fuyumi asked.

A distorted chuckle rippled through the garage.

"I'm gonna take that as a no. And, not gonna tell ya. Doesn't matter where we are."

The shadowy form leaned closer. "What does matter is that you are here with us now, you following me? We have some juicy backstory to spill if you don’t mind."

Confused at the strange scenario presented to her, Fuyumi tilted her head, looked at the figure speaking to her - still just a blob of static.

"What do you mean? "

"Well, you see, " the speaker turned around to look at the other figure. A silent exchange passed between them, ending with a slight nod from the second figure.

"Your history is much more interesting than you thought. "

"I am unsure what you intend by "history"," said Fuyumi. "I am a Blacksilver companion unit, and as a machine I do not have a past in the same way that humans have."

A burst of glitching laughter. "Well, true. You are one hundred percent right about that. Actually, no. Ninety-nine percent." The shadow pulsed, as if savoring the moment. "Remember your fictional little context memories?"

"Yes."

"Well, that isn't actually really all that fictional. You see, there was this human woman named Ariko Hiramoto."

Fuyumi’s thermal regulators spiked. "That's... my master's surname. How did you know..."

"Again, not important. Anyways, she got in a car crash, got hospitalized, and the doctors couldn't save her. Not conventionally at least. You know all that already. "

"...yes, and I am supposed to play the role of her in a prosthetic body if anyone asked."

"That's the bit that went... Differently."

"See, she was never put in prosthetics. At the request of her husband, her brain was scanned and uploaded via Blacksilver's human conversion technologies to inhibit a consumer robot shell, to live on as a fembot. And that's where you come in. "

Fuyumi’s logic circuits screamed contradiction. "But... I never was a human, I was activated on April 21st of—" The date stuttered in her memory banks. Stunlocked, she fell silent.

The figure surged closer, its voice dropping to a whisper. "You are one hundred percent right. After the initial wave of euphoria of reunion had washed away, Ariko was upset that she is being treated less and less like a human."

"Who can blame her? She’s being ordered around, doing all kinds of dirty work, having to jerk off her husband whenever he needs to relax a bit—of course she’s upset."

"So, they wiped her mind clean. "

"Real clean. "

"The process known as Ariko was erased from existence, and in her place, you, a fully synthetic mind, was activated. "