I had a dream the other night.
I dreamt my lover was a robot.
Unlike the image above, he looked like a regular person. Flesh and stuff. He didn’t act robotic. He was as graceful and awkward as anyone.
And he was programmable. He was programmed to love me.
It seems like this would be pretty creepy, rather like the image, but it wasn’t.
It was lovely.
My happiness made him happy. My pleasure pleased him. He worked on getting to know me, the better to provide for my needs and desires. Being subject to robotic laws, he’d never harm me or allow me to come to harm, nor would he allow me to harm him. His kindness and consideration, despite the artifice of programming, evoked corresponding affection in me. And the pheromones were designed to be compatible with mine within a .0000002% margin of error.
Sure, it was a weird dream, and perhaps I’d watched too many odd movies this week.
But it was lovely.