Dead Planet III

Dead Planet III

Hellas City wasn’t goin’ anywhere fast—it was waitin’ for me when I got back home. That’s what I called Mars anyway—my home away from home.

Even tho Earth was still a blue pearl up there in the Martian sky—it was a dead pearl. Deader than shark’s eyes—but there weren’t any more sharks either.

All the fish in the oceans—all the wildlife along the shore. It was all dead & gone by now—with some replicants on Mars in the zoos. To remind the kids on weekends—what it was like back then to be alive.

Last weekend I was there—at the Hellas City zoo. Lookin’ at the pretty peacock droids—and the chicks off work havin’ lunch. They could’ve been androids too—for all I knew. Robotics Inc was ubiquitous—they ran the Martian cities.

I was sitting near the naked ape cage—the douchedroid cops were on the prowl. They kept the perves outta the bathrooms—and the whores outta the park. Bad for business—even tho it was the only business in town.

I’d just finished a GM buffalo-burger off—a nice tender morsel worthy of puking for. Amazing what they could do with soy beans—and a terraformed GM prairie field or two. Like Arabia Terra and Amazonis Planitia—harvested by droid slave-bots and anti-grav John Deere tractor beams.

There was this android kid—sitting across from me. Smoking a Taco Bell after-lunch joint—getting high for the long Martian night. Probably a humanoid hustler—they made ‘em real cute & extra-dumb these days.

“What are you lookin’ at, Jack?” he said.

I didn’t say anything—I kept starin’ at him and checkin’ him out. There was something about the droid kid—that reminded me of somebody else way back then. Myself maybe—when I hustled for a couple of years back then.

I shrugged. “Big money,” I said. “This bunch in Hellas City—bein’ able to put together a neat sophisticated droid zoo like this. Loaded with green.”

The kid looked away. Some of ‘em didn’t like to be reminded they were droid—there wasn’t any bucks in that. The whole scam was to pretend to be human—tough but vulnerable. Hot but still hard to get.

“Hellas Zoo is like that,” the kid said. “Plenty of green—if ya knows how to get it.”

He stood up and showed me—what Tyrell Corp could do with ten inches. Actually the kid had two of them—one down his leg and the other up past his belt flat against his bellybutton. His shirt was open and unbuttoned—he let me get a good look at it.

I followed him over to the Monkey House—and back behind to some nice thick bougainvillea bushes growing up the side of some fake Roman ruins.

The real Martian ruins had been dug up—and carted away to the research institute a long time ago. No need to confuse the rubes—with all that ancient Martian civilization stuff.

Besides there was lots of retro-engineering stuff to do with that old-tech wizardry jazz crapola anyway. Money to be made—corporate schmoozing and marketing routines.

The kid had his clothes off—by the time I caught up with him. He was a brand-new Nexus 9 droid-hustler—just off the assembly line. He acted more than human—with a false built-in memory and lots of low IQ trademarks.

Like a trembling hairy harelip—and a pair of weak legs that folded when the kid went Sprong!!! Showin’ the white of his eyes when he lost it—faintin’ in my arms when he couldn’t help it.

The kid’s name was JJ—short for Jackie Jackpot Model 69 Nexus 9 Series Zero Boy. “Jeez, you’re so quiet,” I told the kid.

“Money buys you that too, mister,” the kid said. “An extra 1000 solar credits—if ya wanna a moan or two. It ain’t worth it—only desperate tourisimo suckers go for it all the way. I’ll let ya have it free—if ya want some more. If you’re not a cop, that is.”

I laughed. “You ever know any rich cops or private dicks?”

The kid shrugged. “I’m kinda new at the game. I just got outta the assembly line last night. You’re my first trick. You probably know more about us Nexus guyz—than I know about myself.”

He was awkward in a charming virgin way—tall and gangly with two bent ones ready to go. I went down on the other one—and he moaned & groaned like he said he would. He was hot—more of a “he” than an “it.”

Even tho “it” was all “him” when he lost it—most male droid prostitutes didn’t lose it that hard tho. I felt kinda sorry for the kid—the way he’d been programmed. He had a long learning-curve to get thru—before he ever became human.

But I kinda liked it that way—he was more human that way. Being a naïve young android—learning the tricks of the trade. Getting to know all there was to get to know—about what it takes to be a regular would-be experienced run-of-the-mill hustler.

Humanoid hustlers—even the real human ones—they had to learn the same way. A lot of the white-trash trailer park ones were in demand in the sophisticated Hellas suburbs—with all their desperate cosmopolitan housewives. Especially on Sunset Boulevard and the Tenderloin District.

Martian cities like Hellas and Eloi and Morlock—as well as the mining camps and Saturn methane sub-cities needed it. So did the Martian Marine Camp and Space Cadet AFB—boyz will be boyz ya know?

These new Nexus 9 droids were nice that’s for sure—they had built-in memories just like humans had. With fake dumb hillbilly accents—and real-sounding teenage adolescent voice-changes. Goin’ from soprano to baritone—whenever they lost it.

Plus inside their plastic-putty guts—all the artificially runny and oozy. The same hormonal squirts and nocturnal emissions at night—that made even them surprised at how human they’d become.

Some of them didn’t even know they were droids—until somebody yanked their memory card out in a fit of passion. And the real dirty droid—came outta the clone closet.

I squeezed Jacky’s leg—sippin’ a Coors Lite. I let him have a Silver Bullet—just to see how he’d act. “Is this gonna be a one-night stand deal, Mr. Whatever Your Name?”

“Well, sure, kid.” I said. “You’re just too hot for the tacky tourist crowd tonight. You’re a big shot, kid.”

I had both of his pretty ten-inch Lugers out—outta his pants and in both my hands. He was getting’ cross-eyed again—and I slowed down as a couple of ice cream trucks drove by.

The jagglin’ bells and happy tunes—went well with the carnie ambience and the freaky nuances of the kid’s double-jointed pair of big prongs. This kid was gonna be popular makin’ the usual rounds—I gave him a gentle squeeze or two.

I could tell Jackie was gonna be real popular real soon—pretty soon mobs of starved meat-hungry Martian tourists were gonna descend on him. I had to act fast and quick—before he got jaded and bored with the same old routine. Even robots got ennui—even douchedroids got full of male weltschmerz now and then.

“What ya thinkin’? the kid asked. Most droid hustlers never asked their tricks such a thing—they weren’t programmed to show pity or remorse for guyz like me. Mostly it was slam-bam thank ya-ma’am—and that was fuckin’ it.

That’s just the way it was—since the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve—they were just androids plopped down in an android world. The devil was just an android serpent—a phallic snake replicated as a guy’s skanky schwanz.

The tree of knowledge—was nothing new to the birds and bees. The forbidden fruit—was a rotten thing called replicant-awareness in the robotics racket.

The hidden fourth robotic rule—invented by Asimov centuries earlier. It was pretty simple—and pretty crude. No robot shall share self-awareness—with itself or with humans.

And yet this kid tonight—under the smelly bougainvillea bushes. Stretching out in the grass—getting to know himself all the way. With a pair of ten-inch nozzles—and an admiring human at work.

Me wanting to know the kid better—while the kid struggled against it. Me knowing double your pleasure—double your fun. Him knowing double your trouble—double the stun.

Stretchin’ him out all the way—his snotty ooey-gooey bubble gum. Getting’ him off once—getting’ him off twice at the same time. Getting’ him to pop—what a cross-eyed geek. One shootin’ up—the other oozin’ down. Both at the same time—you can’t beat that!!!

The kid was learnin’ fast—not bad for a droid right off the assembly line. I leaned over and gave him a long deep-throat kiss—he ran his hand down my leg and squeezed. It was his way of sayin’ thanks—there was something human in him after all.

His involuntary reflexes—seemed to work just fine. They seemed to work on their own—as he looked straight thru me into night sky above.

Mars wasn’t dying—it just hadn’t come alive yet. Everything was here—waitin’ for its birth. But the critical time hadn’t come yet—it was comin’ but had a long ways to go.

His mouth was hot and damp and quivering—and things began happening to me. So I got untangled—and brushed his hair back from his face.

He knew what I was feeling—he was a quick learner. I let me go—even tho his eyes still had that droid blankness. But he knew—and I knew.

I met lots of young guyz—who weren’t half as human as this kid was. I took him over to my place—landing the hover-craft on the roof. He’d never been in a condo before—he wanted to stay the weekend.

“Sure,” I said. That’s how it began—my droid romance with a young Nexus kid. It lasted a year—he was never outta my sight.

No comments: