"Robot Lover"

Written By: Artemis

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties. I make no money with this fic.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: Romance, Angst, Humor

Pairings: 1x2x1, 3x4, 13x6, 5xR

Note: My initial inspiration for this story came from the live drama series "Zettai Kareshi" (Absolute Boyfriend) based on the manga by Yuu Watase.

Summary: Heero Yuy risks his job for a chance at love when Duo Maxwell orders an Ideal Lover robot from his company.

First place winner in the 2010 Moments of Rapture long fic category!

"Robot Lover"

Level One

Duo flopped onto his leather couch with a carton of Chinese takeout in hand. It had been one hell of a day. First his client didn't show for court, and then some overly enthusiastic meter maid gave him a ticket for parking too far from the curb.

It was just after midnight. Not very late by his standards, but he felt unusually tired. As a typical weekday night, he had worked at his office downtown until eight, stopped at the gym to lift some weights, picked up dinner around the corner, and walked in the door of his condominium at 10:30 p.m.

After a quick shower, he was barefoot and wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and sitting down to another two to three hours of work. He spread his paperwork on the coffee table in front of him, turned the television on with the volume set to low, and shoved ramen noodles into his mouth with the set of bamboo chopsticks that had come with his order.

First on his agenda was the small matter of a new sub-contractors' agreement for Winner Enterprises. This gig was his bread and butter. He could thank a childhood friendship with Quatre Raberba Winner for the flashy uptown digs in which he sat. They had been friends since they were eight years old and kicking dirt in each other's faces. Even then he had been impressed by Quatre. Well, at least by his family's estate and all the cool toys they lavished on their only son.

In junior high they had lost track of each other when Quatre was sent to a fancy boarding school. He got a postcard once with a picture of the Academy of Sciences on the front. The handwritten message read: "Duo! You would love the Olympic-sized pool here, and the cinnamon rolls!!" Yeah, all the exclamation marks were Quatre's.

He still had that postcard saved in a box somewhere. He had meant to write his friend back, but there always seemed to be something distracting him like high school, and coming to terms with his sexual preference. The gay thing complicated life—then and now. High school was no place to be different, and asking out a cute guy from the football team was out of the question.

His political science teacher recommended he take Introduction to Law his senior year. That class changed his life. He had always liked helping the little guy; the ones who got beat up on the playground for no apparent reason. Knowing and applying the law was a powerful thing, and for the first time he felt like he was standing on solid ground. The only trouble was that law school was damn expensive. Fortunately, the school counselor had a talent of her own, securing scholarships to the best schools. Miracle of miracles, he got a full scholarship to a top-rated university.

It was at a basketball game his freshman year, with the first of many jerk boyfriends on his arm, when he saw none other than Quatre Winner walking past him and sipping on a Coca-Cola. The planets must have aligned to make them friends again. They had picked the same school, though Quatre's focus was geo-politics and business, and Duo's law.

After college, Duo started out at a big city law firm. He did everything they asked of him, pulling 80 plus hours a week and making good money, but his passion for law evaporated. He had to be his own man. He wanted to pick his own battles. That's when Quatre asked him to be Winner Enterprises' independent legal counsel. Duo hesitated, not wanting to step from one corporate gig to another, but Quatre assured him the position was on an as-needed basis. He wouldn't even need to keep an office in Winner Tower.

The steady work for Winner Enterprises funded Duo's cushy lifestyle—the condo in the high-end building, the soft leather couch he was sitting on, and the big ass plasma TV, which he wasn't paying much attention to just now. The position also allowed Duo the freedom to have his own law office and take on those hard luck cases he loved so much. Even if the lousy bastards didn't show up for their day in court!

Another mouthful of ramen, and Duo picked up a pen to write his comments on Quatre's proposed contract changes. This was fairly standard stuff tonight. In the past he had helped Quatre develop a whole new set of contracts after an unscrupulous contractor sued for "making" him drive into work during a snowstorm.

A strobe-like effect from the TV screen caught Duo's attention. He looked up only to realize it was one of those infomercials that went on longer than usual commercials. This kind of advertisement made it seem urgent to call the toll-free number or you'd miss out on the deal of a lifetime. Tonight, a pretty blond spokeswoman in a tailored pink suit had an Asian guy, in traditional Chinese clothing, kissing her cheek. Something about them made Duo chuckle. He reached for the remote, and increased the volume to hear what they were selling.

"I was happily matched with my ideal lover ten months ago," the woman in pink said.

Duo rolled his eyes. "Geez, it's another online dating site." He reached for the remote.

"The robots are so humanlike that your friends will never know, unless you tell them."

Duo's hand froze over the mute button. "What the fuck?"

"I'm Relena Peacecraft and this is my humanoid boyfriend, Wufei." She put her arms around the Asian man and giggled. "And I'm a very satisfied customer."

"They can't be serious," Duo said, gaping at the TV. The man looked like a real human being. This had to be a trick. There was no way that science had gotten this advanced. Duo had seen documentaries on robots working in factories and laboratories, and they weren't remotely humanlike. The guy on the commercial had skin and hair and a nice face. And he talked!

"All it took was one kiss," the robot said. "And I was hers forever!"

A spokesman's voice explained the Ideal Lover Program while footage of the young lovers in romantic settings played on the screen.

"You can take the first step to happiness by calling the toll-free number on your screen to receive our informational packet," the deep, male voice said. "You'll learn about our confidential client guarantee and how to arrange a meeting with one of our team leaders to develop your Ideal Lover."

Relena's smiling face appeared on the screen again. "After spending years in the dating scene I was tired of immature men who didn't want a commitment. So, I tried the Ideal Lover Program and was excited to learn that I could choose the exact physical and emotional attributes that I wanted in a man!"

Wufei stepped into view, took her hand and kissed it.

"See! He's the perfect gentleman! But if you prefer your man a little more devilish, you can request that, too!"

Shockingly, Wufei turned to the camera and winked!

Duo fell back on the couch laughing. This had to be a hoax. There was no way a company could deliver on these promises. And if they could, it surely wouldn't be cheap to order a customized robot.

As more footage played of the lovers walking hand-in-hand along a beach, the commentator repeated the toll-free number, which flashed simultaneously on the screen with the words "All sexual preferences welcome."

Duo leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. Was that right? A man could get a male robot lover? On a whim, Duo scribbled down the number.

"Call today for your Ideal Lover!"

A split second later, an advertisement for organic dog food came on. Duo shook his head as though clearing away the strange spell that perfect couple had cast on him. They had to be actors, but if robot lovers were real, what would they be like? Could science create a humanoid so lifelike that it could satisfy your emotional and physical needs?

It seemed too fantastic, too absurd. He turned off the TV and got back to work.

~ ~ ~

The next afternoon, Duo met Quatre at the usual place, a café on the corner across from Winner Tower. Duo preferred meeting here, instead of taking the elevator up to the sumptuous corporate office where his friend held court.

They nabbed a table by the window, lattés in hand.

"So," Duo said as he reached into his messenger bag. "You've got a fairly standard contract here, but considering your track record, I added a clause about discretionary funds."

"Good thinking," Quatre said, taking a sip from the ceramic mug.

Duo pushed the contract in front of his friend and pointed to the clause. He leaned back in his chair, mug in hands, watching Quatre look over the changes. Quatre was dressed in an impeccable suit. This one was sapphire blue with a pale blue pin-stripe. The button-down shirt was also pale blue, and the tie sapphire to match the suit. With the sunlight streaming in from the window the suit and the man seemed to sparkle.

"Where did you get your suit?"

Quatre glanced up briefly. "Prada."

Duo sighed.

"What? You can shop there, too," Quatre said, unapologetically.

He was right. Duo could afford a nice new suit or two. In fact, he had a closet full of Armani and Michael Kors suits, but after his stint with the corporate law firm, he had given up wearing them in favor of less intimidating designer casual wear. Most of his clients were average Janes and Joes, and he preferred to meet with them in an easy going dress shirt, pressed slacks and leather shoes, or occasionally a pair of sneakers. If he had a court appearance, then he donned a suit jacket and tie. Otherwise, business casual was as dressy as he got. On his days off, which were rare, he was a jeans guy. Slip on a pair of classic American blue jeans, combat boots and a t-shirt, and he was ready for anything.

Today was a Banana Republic dress shirt and slacks day, but even though he had his clothes dry cleaned and pressed, they didn't hold a candle to Quatre's luminescence.

"What's this 800 number?" Quatre asked.

"Huh?"

Quatre pointed to a scribbled number in the page's margin.

"Oh…." The robot commercial came back to Duo in a flash, but he didn't want to admit writing that number down. He pulled the page toward him and tore off the section with the number. "Well, it's—"

"Don't tell me it's a sex hotline?"

Duo chuckled. It was, sort of.

"Why don't you come over to my place tonight?"

"What?" Duo's eyes widened.

"I'm hosting the wine club. There will be lots of lovely people—male and female."

"Sounds stuffy."

"It might not hurt your chances if you hung out with a different crowd."

Duo blew on the thin layer of foam on his latté, considering the invitation and its implications. "You'll be happy to know that I dumped the loser."

"Which one?"

"The most recent one," Duo said with a sneer.

"Was he two-timing you?"

"Three-timing."

"Three? Where do you find—"

Duo held up his hand to stop the well-meaning lecture that was about to spill forth. "Do you think it's impossible for guys to commit? I mean, do we have to settle for one night stands?"

"Since when does Casanova Duo care about long term relationships?"

"Is that what you think I am? A Casanova?"

"Don't look so shocked. Men and women are drawn to you like moths to the flame."

"But only the jerks of the species."

Quatre grinned. "You do have a bad track record."

"Hideous."

"Then come to my party."

"Nah. If there's one loser in the crowd, I'm sure to go home with 'em. I'm taking a dating hiatus."

Quatre threw his hands in the air, dramatically indicating he had given up. "If you change your mind, we meet at seven."

~ ~ ~

A snooty wine club party was the last place Duo expected to find himself that evening, but somehow here he was, knocking on Quatre's penthouse door. It was several minutes past seven o'clock, and he was certain to lose points for being tardy.

He could hear voices on the other side of the door and got tired of waiting to be noticed. The door was unlocked, so he let himself in. He stepped into the teak paneled hallway, always sleek and uncluttered with its slender glass table and this evening an arrangement of pale blue irises. He strolled down the hall to the expansive living room with the spectacular view of the city. Two dozen people were already here, mingling with glasses of wine in hand and noshing on fancy appetizers presented on silver platters by wait staff.

Duo spied Quatre near the bank of floor to ceiling windows, chatting with a small group of admirers. Now, here was a guy who had it all—the looks, the money, the empire—and being alone didn't seem to bother him the way it was starting to bother Duo. Of course, Quatre was too busy with his behemoth of a company to think about relationships and too pre-occupied with the lives of his many, many sisters.

Unlike Quatre, who had changed into a crisp linen suit for the party, Duo had worn the same shirt and slacks he had on all day. To his credit, he had sniffed under his arms to check for body odor.

A waiter brought him a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and another presented a tray of white asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. He took the wine and grabbed a couple of the asparagus from the tray and headed to Quatre's circle.

Most of the club members were twice his age, which meant they had many more life experiences to share. One woman talked Duo's right ear off about her summer working in the vineyards of France, and another explained the nuances between Californian and French wines. He hadn't felt the desire to flirt with anyone, but as he observed them interacting with one another, he began to wonder if they were real people or robots.

What if this was a room full of robots? Certainly Quatre could afford to buy a herd of them. He could have them programmed with encyclopedic knowledge of wines and winemaking. That would be so Quatre.

"Are you a robot?" Duo asked the California wine connoisseur.

"I beg your pardon," the woman said.

"Well, your knowledge is so vast I figured you couldn't possibly be a real person."

"You think I'm a robot?"

"Well…"

"I never!" The woman stomped her foot and stormed away.

A moment later, Quatre was at his side. "Why did you call Marjorie a robot?"

Duo blinked. Had he said that? "I think she took it the wrong way. I only meant—"

"Duo, you implied she wasn't human. Please apologize immediately."

He nodded and went in the direction that Quatre pointed. Marjorie was sitting on a white upholstered arm chair next to an aquarium of saltwater fish. Duo gave a little nod as he approached, but she barely met his eyes. Was it that terrible to be considered anything less than human? Wasn't it a compliment to say you had the intelligence of a computer?

"I meant to be complimentary, but I have a way of saying the wrong things. I guess this was one of them."

"You guess?" she asked.

"No, it definitely was. I'm sorry."

Marjorie grinned, accepting the apology. "People have been talking about those robots they're selling on TV. I don't want a rumor starting that I'm one."

"No one would do that."

"A moment ago you implied…"

Duo held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean it, honest. It's just kind of fascinating, you know? Robot companions."

"Young man, it's the worst depravity. To think that people program an artificial being to do their bidding. I've heard that most of the customers are women. How deplorable!"

He hadn't thought about it that way. But then, why was he thinking about it at all?

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" he asked. "I mean, what if they're so humanlike you can't tell the difference?"

"It's an abomination of science," she said and stood. "I hope you're not considering ordering a robot girlfriend. You're an attractive young man and shouldn't resort to living with a soulless creature like that."

Duo gulped. "Soulless?"

She walked away, leaving Duo to stare at the brightly colored fish in the tank. He suddenly sympathized with their plight. Sometimes he felt like a fish in a bowl, swimming in circles with everyone staring in at him, and no one to set him free.

Word seemed to spread among the wine club members that he was odd, though he doubted that Marjorie shared the content of their conversation. Once he assured Quatre that he had made amends, and apologized to him as well, he headed home. Alone.

At his condominium, across town, Duo didn't bother turning on the lights. He was going straight to bed. He toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt as he made his way to the bedroom, dropping the shirt to the floor. Usually he turned on the stereo or television for company, to cut the quiet, but tonight he just wanted to sleep.

In the bathroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was a decent looking guy, and people told him he was fun to be around, so why couldn't he attract the right kind of lover? Quatre said it was because he was an equal opportunity lover—good, bad or indifferent, Duo gave everyone a chance. If that was truly his method of dating then it had to stop. He wasn't happy living like this. He was tired of starting over again and again, and each time he did, he gave less of himself, so much so that he was losing heart.

Maybe that made him soulless, too, like the robots. He had nothing left to give, so he kept getting the dregs of the barrel.

He leaned over the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing it on his face. Geez, he was a depressing guy tonight. What was this shit? Was it that woman's prejudices that had gotten under his skin? Was the idea of robots and humans getting it on as bad as she claimed? Who did it hurt if a portion of the population—unlucky sods like himself—found love a different way?

He looked up at his reflection again, this time seeing a glimmer of determination. Would it hurt to call for the damn brochure? It wasn't as if he was ordering a robot. He was just feeding his curiosity.

He shoved his hands in his pockets searching for the scrap of paper he had torn from the contract. Where had he put that number? He hadn't changed pants… He checked his wallet, flipping through the tiny pockets until he saw a glimmer of white between the twenty dollar bills—a jagged edge that could cut him or lift him out of the fishbowl of his life.

Back in his bedroom he sat on the edge of his king-sized bed and reached for the phone. He chuckled as he dialed the number. The phone rang three times and then a recording picked up.

"Thank you for calling Ideal Lover. Please wait for a trained representative to take your call. Wait time is currently less than five minutes."

Duo thrummed his fingers on the bedside table, listening to the hold music as Waylon Jennings sang:

I was looking for love in all the wrong places
Looking for love in too many faces

That was spot-on for Duo's life, but seemed a bit tacky. Maybe this was a bad idea. He was losing his nerve and about to hang-up when a customer service rep came on the line.

"Thank you for waiting. This is Gemma. Would you like me to send you information about the Ideal Lover Program?"

Duo swallowed hard. "Yes, please."

~ ~ ~

The downtown office suite was buzzing with energy after a late afternoon sugary treat. Duo's staff of four was efficient and professional, and best of all, not too serious. Somehow they managed to eat cake at least once a week to celebrate a birthday, anniversary, pseudo holiday, or return from vacation. Today's was a deliciously tart lemon cake with cream filling, and Duo wished he had taken only half a slice. He was feeling a little jittery as he sat at his desk poring over a new case.

There was a tap on his door. He looked up to see Hilde standing there.

"Can I bug you?" she asked.

"Sure."

Hilde Schbeiker the only other attorney Duo had hired. They had met at law school, and she soon became his best girlfriend, but when he had hung his shingle out, the last person he expected to come looking for a position was Gung-ho Hilde. Her junior year in college, she had signed-on with a big oil company who saw her potential and were willing to wait for her to graduate. Like Duo, she soon discovered that the corporate world made her itch.

"Did you get my notes on the Morton case?" Hilde asked.

"Yeah, but the prosecution never sent those files over."

"Are you kidding? Well, I'm gonna have to go down there myself."

Duo smirked.

"What's that look?"

"Oh, nothing."

"You think I just want to talk to Stephen."

"You mean, Preenin' Stephen."

"Do you have to call him that?"

"Well, I did catch him looking at his reflection in a window."

"Once! You caught him doing it once!"

Duo chuckled. It was so easy to get Hilde riled up.

"Okay, laugh," she said. "But he's a good attorney and a nice guy."

Indeed, he was both of those things.

"Is it reciprocal?" Duo asked. "Do you think he's interested?"

Hilde blushed. "I think so, but I have a feeling I'm going to have to be the one to do the asking. He's a little shy."

"If it works out, can you ask him if he has a nice friend for me?"

Hilde laughed, but then she realized he was being serious. "Maybe that's not such a bad idea. You keep picking ones that need a lot of fixing. Kind of like your clients."

Yeah, that's exactly what he had been doing. His life was about making things right… for other people. It was so ingrained in him that he was inevitably drawn to the one bad seed in the room as though he could turn a pumpkin into Prince Charming. It turned out that you could carve pumpkins, but every one of them rotted.

"The weekend is coming," Duo said, clearing his thoughts. "Now might be a good time to ask Stephen out."

"Okay, I think I will. Thanks." Hilde smiled. She spun on her heel and was gone.

Just then his phone rang.

"Duo Maxwell."

"Yeah, it's Ronnie."

"Oh, hey, Ronnie. What's up?" Ronnie was the manager for the complex where Duo lived.

"There's a package for you. I had to sign for it."

"I don't remember ordering anything. Who's it from?"

"AR Industries."

Duo scratched his head. He had never heard of that company. "I'll be home late."

"You're always late that's why I'm calling. The office is closing at six tonight, so if you want the package you have to come before six."

Ronnie had gotten funny about Duo's packages after he forgot to pick up one and it turned out to be very smelly cheese. It was just four o'clock. It was unthinkable to leave this early, but if he got a couple more things done at the office, he could make it home before Ronnie incinerated that parcel.

~ ~ ~

It was a flat box sent at an expedited rate. Duo stared at the return address label as he took the elevator to his 10th floor condo. AR Industries…Geez, he hoped it wasn't related to any of the cases he was working on. Sometimes people tracked him to his home address.

He dropped his messenger bag on a dining room chair, shrugged out of his leather jacket and walked into the kitchen to set the mystery package on the counter while he got a beer out of the fridge. Twisting the cap off the bottle he took a long drink as he eyed the box. Well, he didn't hear ticking, so he might as well open it. He grabbed a knife out of the drawer and cut along one edge, letting the contents slide onto the counter. A booklet, an array of colorful brochures and a DVD lay before him.

"Oh, it's the robot information."

It had cost $59.95 to have the Ideal Lover information kit sent to him. Only those as desperate as Duo were willing to throw away the price of a lovely steak dinner for a peek at this intriguing technology.

He gathered up the materials, and his beer, and went into the living room to wade through the information. He set the brochures aside one by one, seeing that they related to insurance and warranties. They definitely had a very thorough legal department. The booklet listed basic questions, but was completely fascinating with the tidbits it did share. Topping that list was the fact that most robots, with proper maintenance, had a lifespan of 75 years. On request, a robot's appearance could remain the same or change to reflect the aging process. Most marriages didn't last that long. What if you changed your mind along the way? He turned the page and found the answer. The customer could return the robot at any time and its memories would be wiped clean.

"Robots have memories?" he asked aloud.

He continued to read. The robots' memory chip was programmed with data on world history, sports, culture, music, science and anything else the customer wished such as a knowledge of the culinary arts or the ability to speak a foreign language. In addition, the memory chip stored the events of each day, creating a personal connection to the customer and their surroundings.

"Maybe Marjorie was right… this does sound a little soulless."

Despite Duo's misgivings, he could not stop from reading the entire booklet. There was a section with photos of the different types of robots available. Every ethnicity was represented, and customizing your robot was a big part of the Ideal Lover Program.

"Every aspect of your humanoid lover can be made to your specifications," he read from the booklet. He couldn't help the naughty thought that followed.

Next he popped the DVD into his player, and sat on the coffee table, leaning forward to watch closely. They went inside the laboratories where the Ideal Lover Program had been developed. There he was introduced to Treize Khushrenada, the founder of Autonomous Robot Industries. The man had a debonair quality and spoke with the utmost confidence as he guided the tour and introduced several assistants.

"At AR Industries," Mr. Khushrenada said, "it is our mission to create lifelong companions. In a world where it is increasingly difficult to meet that special someone to share the rest of your life with, we believe in the bonds that can be forged by mutual commitment, understanding and shared memories. And yes, even love is possible. That is the ideal we strive for everyday, and you should expect no less."

As the credits rolled, Duo sat unmoving. He was impressed, but also stunned. Could they deliver on their claims?

Just as he was about to eject the DVD, Treize Khushrenada appeared on the screen again. He was standing with one of the assistants who had explained part of the manufacturing process.

"If you didn't guess," Mr. Khushrenada said. "Assistant Rand is one of my robots." The CEO and founder smiled as he placed his hand on the robot's shoulder, and the image faded to black.

"Whoa," Duo said, shaking his head.

This was all a bit much, but he was drawn to the idea. Was he being suckered or could he hope for the companionship and love he was seeking?

He needed a second opinion.

~ ~ ~

Quatre stared at him dumbfounded with the Ideal Lover booklet in his hands. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Duo asked, trying to keep his voice low. Why had he let Quatre choose the restaurant? He always picked the ones that were too quiet and too dark, and had waiters that materialized out of thin air. "I know it's expensive, but if that's what it takes—"

"You've been complaining for months that you want to connect with someone on a deeper level and this is your answer?"

"It's not my answer," Duo said, frowning. It's my last resort. "It's that Khushrenada guy's answer, but it sounds pretty good."

Quatre set the booklet on the table and pushed it towards Duo like it was contagious. "Your life has not come to this."

"Look," Duo said, feeling his blood pressure rising. "I'm 26, and I've got everything I want—money, cars, clothes, and property in the right zip code—everything except for someone I can love and who loves me back."

"That's just it, Duo. You're 26. You're too young to be settling for a bundle of wires and microchips." Quatre shivered dramatically to show his revulsion. "Just because you've had a run of bad luck—"

"Oh, now you're calling it a run? I haven't dated one decent guy my entire life. What makes you think that can change? I can change? Maybe if I tell these people about me and what I like and don't like, they can come up with someone—"

"Not someone, Duo. A robot!"

Diners at nearby tables hushed and looked at them. Duo shook his head and waited for them to return to their own conversations, and their own business, so he could reach across the table and strangle his best friend. In theory that's what he wanted to do, but in practice he just took a deep breath.

"I was hoping you'd understand," Duo said in a near whisper.

"I want to… but I think you'd be making a mistake. The right guy is going to come along any day now." Quatre was an optimist, and there was no point in arguing.

"Maybe you're right."

Quatre smiled and Duo couldn't help but smile back at him.

~ ~ ~

Despite the potential awkwardness and unknowns, and Quatre's guaranteed disapproval, Duo's desperation got the better of him. He picked up the phone the next day and made an appointment. It wasn't cheap. Just to meet with a team leader cost $1,000 non-refundable. He didn't know the exact cost of a robot, but packages started at $50,000, plus annual maintenance fees.

As luck would have it, there was a cancellation that afternoon.

He was more nervous about this next step than he'd been taking the Bar exam. AR Industries was located in a sleek, five-story glass and steel building on the Westside where a lot of corporations were setting up shop. The reception area was oddly non-descript, making him double check the address he had been given.

In the lobby, he was greeted by two women in tailored suits sitting behind a long desk made of brushed steel and aqua colored glass. There was absolutely nothing else in the lobby—not a potted plant, a security guard, or a company sign. Ah, but there was a discreet security camera at ceiling level.

"May we help you?" one of the women asked.

"Yes, I'm Duo Maxwell. I have a three o'clock appointment."

"May we see your identification?"

He blinked. "… Sure." He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, handing over his driver's license.

"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. We've been expecting you."

It occurred to him then that these women might not be women at all, but he dared not ask.

He was handed back his ID along with a lanyard which had the word "Visitor" in large letters and a barcode underneath. "If you'll be so kind, please wear the lanyard while you're with us today, and proceed to your right and down the hall. Use the card to access the elevator which will take you to the second floor. You'll be meeting with Mr. Barton."

"Barton? Okay, thank you."

"Thank you. Have a nice day," the women said in unison.

Yep, robots.

On the second floor, there was another reception desk with an attractive woman seated behind it.

"Mr. Maxwell?" she asked.

"That's me."

"Mr. Barton will see you in room three. Please proceed down the hall and to your left."

"Thank you."

The professionalism of the staff and the pristine appearance of the building gave Duo hope that AR Industries really knew what they were doing. Maybe it wasn't all just some grand hoax.

He opened the door to the designated room and was greeted by a young man.

"Mr. Maxwell," the man said, standing and coming over to shake Duo's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Trowa Barton, one of the team leaders for the Ideal Lover Program."

"A team leader? You mean you work on the robots?"

"Yes, I work directly with our scientific division. The robot we design for you will meet your specifications."

Duo felt relieved to meet this Trowa Barton. He seemed intelligent, and his conservative attire of a light blue dress shirt, gray slacks, black shoes, and a white lab coat gave him an air of seriousness. However, his unusual haircut, with his bangs covering one side of his face, made him think Trowa was a bit of a non-conformist.

"If you'll take a seat." Trowa gestured to a chair, and waited for Duo to be seated.

The room had a clinical quality with its bright white walls and steel framed table and chairs. On the table were two computers, and behind the table was a long, rectangular mirror. Trowa took a seat with his back to the mirror, leaving Duo to face the mirror as he sat at the other computer.

"Is that a two-way mirror?" Duo asked with a laugh.

"Yes, it is. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable. Our CEO sometimes watches these interviews for quality control."

"I see."

"Before we go any further, I'd like to assure you that it is entirely the privilege of the client to reveal their participation in the Ideal Lover Program. Protecting your identity is an integral part of what we do. Would you like to see the Confidentiality Agreement?"

The lawyer in Duo couldn't say no to that. "I would, thank you."

Trowa produced a paper copy of the agreement. It was standard legalese about client confidentiality, and also AR Industries' desire for its proprietary information to remain confidential. Duo was respecting their legal department more and more.

At the bottom of the agreement was a place to sign. He picked up the pen. "This looks fine."

"Thank you. If you would sign it, we can move along to the evaluation."

"Evaluation?"

"This appointment will help us both determine if you're right for the program. You see, it's not simply about clients having the financial means to procure a robot. It is our mission to create lifetime companions, and the first step is to make sure potential clients are serious about creating a bond with a fully automated humanoid."

"That's why I'm here," Duo said, a bit quickly. He was ready to move this train along.

"Good. If at any point you feel the program isn't right for you, please let me know."

"So far, so good."

"Then you won't mind me asking some personal questions."

Duo blinked. "Like what?"

"Are you into S&M, Mr. Maxwell?"

"What?" Duo's mouth gaped.

"Sadomasochism."

"Yeah, I know what it means, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"We screen our clients to give our robots the best environment to develop a committed relationship. Bondage and the like can damage sensitive neural transmitters impacting the robot's capability—"

"Whoa, I get it," Duo said, surprised by this information. "I'm not into that stuff. I just want a soulmate." His mouth snapped shut. Had he really said that? He didn't remember thinking anything like that before. Sure, he was looking for a stable, committed relationship, but a soulmate? "I hope that didn't sound corny."

"It sounded sincere." Trowa grinned. "It's what we're all searching for."

The next step was watching a video, which was more in-depth than the one that came with his information packet. It showed a client working with a developer to create a robot's physique and features, and demonstrated some of the robot's humanlike functions such as sensory perception.

"It's like science fiction," Duo said.

"Do you still think this is for you?"

That was the $60 million question. "Can I touch one?"

"Of course. We encourage potential clients to meet one of our robot assistants." Trowa stepped to a phone by the door and made a call to someone named, Otto. A moment later, a tall man with short, curly brown hair, and dressed in business attire and a lab coat, came into the room.

He smiled as he greeted Duo and held out his hand.

Duo hesitated, but knew this was the do or die moment. If it didn't feel like a person, he was out of here. He took the larger hand in his and gave it a firm shake. It was warm and had the right combination of fleshy tenderness and bone structure. It felt like a human hand. "You're a robot?"

Otto nodded. "Yes, I am. Would you care to see one of my access panels?"

Duo chuckled. "That's one hell of a pick-up line."

Trowa laughed. "Otto is used to being on display, so he doesn't mind exposing himself." He waited for Otto to roll up his sleeve and then pulled back the skin on his forearm.

"Oh, God," Duo said, cringing, and expecting blood to ooze out. But there was no blood.

"Generally, our robots do not have access points on their arms. Otto is our showroom model, shall we say. Routine maintenance can be done in your home by myself or one of our technicians and requires only a connection through the ear canal."

"That's amazing." He was staring at the array of wires and circuitry in Otto's arm and thinking about Quatre's remarks at dinner. He would be horrified right now, but Duo found it rather fascinating. Though Otto was not a real man, he felt like one, and the science behind it was oddly titillating. There was something sexy and even a little kinky about this venture, and Duo liked it.

"Are you still with us, Mr. Maxwell?" Trowa asked.

"It's all good."

Next, Trowa asked Duo a series of 85 questions meant to build the parameters of his Ideal Lover. The questions ranged from physical attributes to sexual preferences and social attitudes.

"That was exhausting," Duo said, laughing, after he'd answered the last question.

"But hopefully not unpleasant. This in addition to other information will be given to our programmer to create your robot's personality."

"As long as the robot turns out to be a nice guy who'll…" Love me. He couldn't say that out loud.

"Now, if you'll click on the image database we can generate a prototype of your robot's features."

Page one revealed 50 model faces, all pleasing in their way. He looked at the corner of the screen to see that there were 199 more pages to review. How would he choose? He had never been good at that before.

"Your taste in guys has to be better than mine," Duo said with a grin. It was a gamble, but how awful could the results be? "Can you decipher what I like based on all those questions?"

"We do have plenty of information to make intelligent choices about physical attributes that would appeal to you, but I'll need you to sign a waiver."

"I have every faith in AR Industries." After all, he hadn't seen a bad looking robot yet! "Show me the dotted line."

The final phase of the nearly three-hour long appointment was signing a stack of contracts, and writing a check for a down payment of $10,000.

Trowa stood up and shook his hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Maxwell."

"After all that, you should call me Duo."

"Thank you, Duo. You'll hear from me when your Ideal Lover is ready in about a week."

"That soon?"

"Since you gave us some leeway in physical attributes, we can use a model already in production."

"Then I guess I'll wait for your call."

~ * ~

Chapter 2

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