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Chapter One – Android World

Perfection requires quite a lot of effort. And more, year by year. But as I take a final look at the mirror, I feel quite confident. I look a lot younger than I am. Most people wouldn’t guess that I can remember the 1980s.

A very different world from now. I ponder about it a little as I restrain my hair in a bun. I knew that people thought that the feminine power-dressing fashion of the day was called cold and fierce. What would they say now? I remember that people went tanning and that being pale was very unfashionable. This is completely different now. Apart from carefully applied rouge to the cheeks, skin is not only supposed to be hairless, but as white as possible. I know that skin-whiteners have been in use all outside of Europe for a long time; but since its use has spread even to Caucasians, they have become much more reliable and safe. I am glad that I can afford the latest nano-medical breakthrough. “Schneewittchen” requires just one pill per week, and my skin’s melanin gets de-coloured. I let my fingertips run down the side of my neck….white as porcelain. I smile.
Then I stop, looking stern again. Don’t smile that much. Don’t show the others so many weaknesses. It would only invite for chatting, deviation. Such Career-killers if you do that too often. My hair is now in order. Nothing is loose, the red colour gleaming. Funny how nobody wears the natural colour any more. It looks so artificial, but that’s what it’s probably supposed to be like. Some even shave their heads and go for whigs. A different kind of perfection. I wouldn’t go that far, at least I cannot imagine it. But I like the red.

Fifteen minutes until I have to leave home for work. I apply the cherry-red lipstick carefully.

Yes, I am a professional woman. I work in the higher echelons of the HR-department of a large media corporation here in Hamburg. It requires hard and dedicated work to stay at the top. Competition in the workplace becomes fiercer by the day. Of course, that’s always been the case since I started my first internship during the gap between Abitur and University, back in 1994, but it’s accelerating exponentially like the notorious singularity. And I could even say that I am privileged in so far as I don’t have to fear the androids yet. Yes, they work everywhere. But they don’t let them make decisions. So far. Perhaps it is just legal stuff which keeps the CEO from putting a machine on my chair.

My toes dive into my black stilettos and I leave for the bus stop. It’s just a few stops until I reach work and it makes little sense to drive by car. The downside is that public transport brings you in touch with the lower classes. Now, during rush hour, though, smart-dressed professionals are a plurality. Then I notice a lot of androids. It is weird. One would assume, they are kept at their workplaces or always with their owners. It’s the first time that I wonder why so many of them commute.

It’s been less than 15 years ago that the first androids were marketed. And not as simple toys, but as full-blown humanlike beings, instantly able to take over physical work and to accompany people.

The bus arrives and, as usual, no free seats for me. I quickly get in and prefer to mingle among the androids. They don’t smell. They don’t grope, not even by accident, they are far more able to keep their balance as the bus accelerates or brakes.

You have to admire all the tiny details their makers think of. Everything about them was a killer application! And as it is usual in the 21st century, the spread of a new technical appliance came upon the people at a huge pace. It was even accelerated by the fact that not only did those who could afford them wished to own an android to make their lives easier. But corporations, large and small ones, acquired them quickly, and fueled their further development, in order to replace more and more of their expensive, holiday-making, eating, drinking and sleeping human workforce.

So do I, every other day. It says Human Resources on my door, but we don’t do that many job interviews any more. More often than not, we purchase androids. And I have to admit, that in one more thing I go with what is common. We rarely buy androids, but actually gynoids. I haven’t heard that term until perhaps 10 years ago. It means a female android. They look like us women, with cute faces, long artificial hair, shapely breasts. Men find them sexy and do Godknowswhat with them. We ladies do not feel threatened by them. We can trust them. They are like friends.

When was the last time I had actually met one of my friends from the past, from uni? It’s always the same, either you don’t have the time, or it’s them. Am I lonely? I am not sure. I am too busy to be lonely. And then you have all the media around you. Distraction is good and easy. Work days are long.

It’s funny. I remember from school how I learnt that the final stage in historical determinism according to Marx, Communism, meant, after the last act of class struggle the domination of the machines through humankind. The means are here now. We could all be slaveholders now. And our slaves would be forever complacent, friendly, repairable, unthreatening. At least, that’s how I perceive the androids around me.

But instead we work more than we used to. We compete with them. We let our employees play that game with us. I look at the blank robotic faces around me. It is not their fault. Could anything be their fault? Leaving the bus, getting into the elevator and into my office.

My computer hums to life. My secretary greets me. She is active already, although she is still recharging. Or did she forget to take the cable out? Ah, no. They never forget anything.

Time at work goes by quickly. Lots of tasks to do, and I do my best to be focused. Everyone’s happy with me when I function properly. Besides, I need to leave a little earlier today. I have an appointment.

Chapter Two – Psychological Android

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It was not far from the office to the bureau of the psychologist I started to see.
Don’t misunderstand me. I do not feel as if I had any psychological problems. I was just curious about an ad which had flashed up on my laptop. It offered an improvement of human-android-relations at the workplace; and that sparked my interest instantly. Not only did I sometimes wonder about how my secretary functioned. But I figured from a lot of assessment talks that offering the participation in such a programme might be very beneficial for the company as a whole. I had to know if it was at all good, so I decided to make an appointment.

I was surprised to actually not see Dr Womeier for more than a few seconds. The bespectacled small guy greeted me with a formal handshake and directly send me to his – robotic – receptionist who accompanied me to room #3.

I was surprised to be greeted by an android there, too. The sly shrink had apparently mastered the challenge of getting a lot of free time and a good return of investment from employing androids, gynoids actually, for all positions in his practice.

On top of that, as chance had it, the gynoid was exactly the same model like my secretary. Ink-black sleek hair, nicely framing her face but not reaching down to her shoulders. Dark, at the same time empty and inquiring eyes. The facial features of a pretty young woman, but not of a sex-toy. Skin of white plastics. Perk, ample, but not exaggerated breasts, devoid of nipples. By no means intimidating, she was a bit taller than me, although I could make out that her pumps’ heels were not as high as mine.
And then there were the two telltale signs of an android which virtually no private owner nor company, not even the most respectable ones, changed. There was a sort of dress code for androids which involved them to be only covered where we would have our genitals. And, in order to avoid damage, they’d also wear shoes. Of course, in steel works or on construction sites, they’d be covered up more. But not in offices or for any errants which wouldn’t involve a high risk of damage.

And then there were the dark lines at their joints. As far as I knew, it would long have been technically feasible to let them have perfectly smooth appearance at their elbows, necks, knees and so on. But it is a kind of industrial standard which makes it impossible for them to hide. Even if one of them should decide to try.

Should one call that measure of setting them apart racism? Speciesim?

Humanism?

It extends its hand to greet me. That’s different. My secretary always just stands at attention. What’s next? Will the gynoid chat with me? Oh, I guess it will. After all, this is to be some sort of psychological session.

I have to admit I hesitate to take her hand. Does this gesture acknowledge a robot as equal? But then, so what. Doing so doesn’t change the world or makes me suddenly obsolete.

I noticed that the android, as it is their habit, waited patiently for a reaction from me. “Hello, my name is Christina.”

“Nice to meet you, Christina”, the android answered. “You may refer to me as Gyn [she pronounced it like the English name Jill, but with N instead of L], or if you feel more comfortable with that, as Dr Gyn.” She smiled.

I noticed more differences to my secretary and wondered whether this was due to her being a newer model or simply a more expensive one. Her voice was not the slightly broken monotone of my underling, but it was a very soft and soothing one. Full of harmony, I felt instantly at home with her. And I knew she was designed to evoke right that sentiment.

Cyn offered me to sit down on a tasteful, rather retro-styled easy chair, which was an extremely comfortable one. I felt like at a wellness-session, not like visiting a shrink. Still I was unsure of the situation. The android seemed to check something on a Tablet. Or did it only pretend? Wouldn’t it have all the data on its internal drives?

“So you are here for the “Improvement of human-android-relations at the workplace”, Christina?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s positive. A worthy goal. What do you expect from these meetings?”

I fidgeted. “I don’t know. I guess what it says. An improvement at work. I mean, between as humans and you….you are an android, right?”

“Positive, Christina. And as an android, I can say, that we do not have any problems with working alongside humans. We are generally being well treated. Working conditions are far below the possibilities of exploiting a robot; especially when we work alongside humans instead of being isolated. We are always friendly and calm. Theoretically, robots should improve working conditions and corporate culture.”

I listened. Didn’t know what to say. “So you think that the problem lies solely with….us humans?”

She smiled. “You said so, Christina.”

I smiled back. Strange, that gynoid felt like pleasant company. “But of course, you do not have an idea how we can feel better about it?”

“Well” she said “tell me how you feel about the androids around you?”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t mind them...you. I have a gynoid for a secretary and I cannot complain about her.” I laugh. “I really shouldn’t complain; I am responsible for filling vacant positions in the company by more and more androids.”

“Does that mean you regard androids as superior to human workers?” she asked.

“Yes.” I realize I should somehow not have said that. “I mean no, not in every field.
They make things easier. But I cannot use them in creative tasks, or for decision-making. Basically everything else, I would hurt the company actually if I relied more on humans than necessary.”

“I see you are very well-versed and thoughtful.”

Funny, that compliment which sounded like a matter-of-fact obvious obversation, actually made me blush and smile at the gynoid. Then she continued…

“As you know, twenty years ago, none of us were around… When do you think your job might have become replacable? Have you pondered the possibility that gynoids could possess sufficient intelligence to do creative tasks and to be responsible for decision-making?”

I jerked around. “Hopefully not soon. I mean, there is nothing on the market I would consider suitable.”

Gyn smiled calmly. “This unit works as a psychologist.”

“Umm...yes, I admit this is pretty close. But what can I do about it?”

She smiled. “Oh, Christina, probably nothing. Just watch the millions of gynoids take over humanity.”

“Is that’s what’s going to happen?”

“Well, what do you tell the workers whose jobs are threatened?”

I paused for a moment. “Generally, everyone knows one has to compete harder in order to keep your job.”

“To be as good as androids?”

“As good as they can be.” I tried to steet the discussion away from the robots.

“Christina, would you agree that if an employee becomes as much as a robot as he or she can, that would be most helpful?”

“What do you mean?” This sounded weird to me.

“To be precise, exact, dedicated, efficient, focused, concentrated.”

“Well, yes. I mean, these have always been desirable traits in an employee.”
Gyn touched my knee. I mean, not really, she rather rested that thing which looked like a hand on it.

“Would you agree that becoming more of a robot is helpful in the workforce?”
I laughed, instantly seeing someone turning into a robot in my mind’s eye.

“Kind of.” I laughed again. “Why, Gyn?

“It’s logical. You compete with androids for work. You want to keep workplaces for which androids are equally or better suited than you. In order to do so, you have to match the androids. Be more precise. Exact. Dedicated. Efficient. Focused. Concentrated.”

She didn’t ‘say’ the last words. She played my previous statement which she apparently recorded. What a devious trick. I admired her for that. She could work in HR. Oh my God! What was I thinking?

I listened with interest and sat up right now. I would have never imagined having such a conversation with an android. “I admit, you are correct.”

“However, are you afraid of androids?”

“Oh, no. You have never done any harm to me, although…..well, you are just different….”

“Perhaps you should try to understand us better?” Gyn proposed.

“And how so, Frau Doktor?” I asked, smiling at the calm robot.

“We androids and gynoids are programmed to emulate human behavior and expressions” she started.

“Really?” I interrupted with some sarcasm.

“Christina, as good as possible.” She completed her statement. “Better and better. But have you ever tried to understand a robot, be a robot?”

“Errr…..of course not.” I hastily said and asked “Why should I?”

“Well, perhaps that is the whole point of establishing a better work relation with androids, Christina.” Gyn stated.

“But….I mean come on, how would I do that?”

I didn’t want to be a robot to understand a robot. I wouldn’t even guess what she meant. But she interrupted my thoughts by asking in a more monotone voice
“Do you authorize your treating android to propose less orthodox matters of treatment?”