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Evening Mishap by Blits.png|<big>'''[[Erntoron]]'''</big>
Beth & Evie by Sthev.png|<big>'''[[Erntoron]]'''</big>
Real-world testing.png|<big>'''[[FTLTraveler]]'''</big>
NightBattery067.png|<big>'''[[Battery]]'''</big>
This Bot Looks Just Like Me!.png|<big>'''[[DZiegler]]'''</big>
Cheeky Bodega Trip.png|<big>'''[[DZiegler]]'''</big>
Local freindly 4 L1.png|<big>'''[[The Liar]]'''</big>
Bodycrush 2c L1.png|<big>'''[[The Liar]]'''</big>
Breezie’s Robocom Phone.png|<big>'''[[User:Cade32X|Cade32X]]'''</big>
A Gentle Reminder.png|<big>'''[[R3DD]]'''</big>
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<div class="fw-subtitle"> <b> [[Daybreak|Featured Artist - April: Daybreak]]
<div class="fw-subtitle"> <b> [[Daybreak|Featured Artist - April: Daybreak]]
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Story of the week:<br>
Story of the week:<br>
'''[[Castle Mysteries!: Coup De Grace]]'''
'''[[Not Quite Human]]'''


<small>View past [[Author of the Month Archive|Author's of the Month]]</small>
<small>View past [[Author of the Month Archive|Author's of the Month]]</small>


| width="75%" style="background:#ffbb96" class="aom-right" cellpadding="5" |
| width="75%" style="background:#ffbb96" class="aom-right" cellpadding="5" |
"Unless you approve? So you know—"
She pulled her shawl off and cast it aside. Then she pulled the collar of her nightgown down with a flourish. And then she turned her back to him, leaning over slightly so he could see…


"That I am a machine, as you would understand it?" smirked Contessa. "Yes, I must say… this afternoon's reading has been quite the eye-opener." She gestured toward a bank of computers, all of them on and with lots of reports open in lots of windows.
"The button, Jenkins." She enunciated each letter bitterly. “Why do I have a bloody button on my neck, my dear?”


She took a deep drag from her cigarette and smiled a delicious smile.
"Duchess, you… you're not in your coat." This was all Greg could muster. He had never seen her behave so spontaneously; she usually stuck close to the script of predetermined Tidyshire scenarios.


"Well—well, then it can't go on!" spluttered Greg. "Excuse me... uh, Milady, but I need you to think your world is real." In his desperation, it didn't occur to him how ridiculous he sounded. "That YOU'RE real."
"Blistering barnacles! THIS button. AND I KNOW why I have it.” The Duchess stomped her foot and extended her arms, closely examining them as if seeing them for the first time. “SHE showed it to me... by accident, I suppose... in the mirror... press it, Jenkins."


"I AM real," Contessa said proudly. "I am sentient. I eat and taste. I know the writings of Goethe, De Sade, Shakespeare and Rabelais, and understand what they mean. I know the workings of the mind: In case you hadn't noticed, I've been manipulating those—those DOLLS outside since my arrival." She gestured toward the outer halls of the castle, where the royal family presumably continued with their day unawares.
"She?" Greg suddenly knew what must have happened. What might have happened. Did it happen? Oh, Lord. There… there was no way out now.


"Well, as long as you've thought so deeply about it…" mumbled Greg, figuring he'd return things to normalcy later, "then that WASN'T real. Those were simulated intrigues I helped to program."
With a groan, Greg reached down and pressed the button to unlock the Duchess' chest control panel. It took a hard press and a turn to the right; nothing that could be triggered by a mere bump, or the robots might shut themselves off by accident or in the heat of passion. Duchess Winifred’s ample chest opened, revealing a tangle of wires and a control panel with blinking LED diodes.
 
"Doesn't matter, darling," she said, with a gentle laugh and another deep drag on her cigarette. "One learns where one can."
 
"For God's sake, this whole CASTLE isn't real. It's a simulation."
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Revision as of 21:12, 26 April 2024

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Featured Author - April

Australopith
Stories: 8

Story of the week:
Not Quite Human

View past Author's of the Month

She pulled her shawl off and cast it aside. Then she pulled the collar of her nightgown down with a flourish. And then she turned her back to him, leaning over slightly so he could see…

"The button, Jenkins." She enunciated each letter bitterly. “Why do I have a bloody button on my neck, my dear?”

"Duchess, you… you're not in your coat." This was all Greg could muster. He had never seen her behave so spontaneously; she usually stuck close to the script of predetermined Tidyshire scenarios.

"Blistering barnacles! THIS button. AND I KNOW why I have it.” The Duchess stomped her foot and extended her arms, closely examining them as if seeing them for the first time. “SHE showed it to me... by accident, I suppose... in the mirror... press it, Jenkins."

"She?" Greg suddenly knew what must have happened. What might have happened. Did it happen? Oh, Lord. There… there was no way out now.

With a groan, Greg reached down and pressed the button to unlock the Duchess' chest control panel. It took a hard press and a turn to the right; nothing that could be triggered by a mere bump, or the robots might shut themselves off by accident or in the heat of passion. Duchess Winifred’s ample chest opened, revealing a tangle of wires and a control panel with blinking LED diodes.


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