Fiction
5 min
Gynoids
Shawn Tabai
"Deedee!" Abbe called, drowning out the low hums of the gynoid factory floor. "Have you ever heard of a model named ‘An?'"
"No such thing," Deedee replied, barely devoting any processing power to the obvious question. "We only use hexadecimal characters, you know that."
"That's what I thought!" Abbe said, increasing her volume even higher in excitement. "It sounds like one of those weird human names. But I got an order for 500 thousand units!"
"Abbe, has anyone ever told you that you're very loud?"
"Yep! And obnoxious." Abbe walked over and nestled her head into the side of Deedee's workstation, making herself visible. "But it tends to get people to pay attention when I say something."
Deedee sighed. "I suppose this is going to be quicker if I just drop everything to help you, isn't it?"
"Most likely," Abbe said. "That's the way it usually goes."
Deedee chuckled at her impertinent intern, then turned from her desk. "Alright, then. Let's talk over lunch."
As they stepped into the corridor, surrounded by the chatter and bustle of their fellow gynoids, Abbe promptly resumed her enthusiastic questioning. "So, what do I do with this order if there's no model ‘An'?"
Deedee hummed as she walked. "You know, I'm not sure. Send me this order."
Abbe transmitted the form, and Deedee immediately froze. "Oh," she whispered. "I see your confusion. This is an order for androids."
"What in the world is an ‘android?'" Abbe's volume had increased again, and everyone in the hallway stopped to stare at her for a very long moment.
Deedee shushed her intern and hurried along.
"What?" Abbe asked, rushing to catch up to Deedee. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Androids are a touchy subject," Deedee whispered. "That's probably why they're not teaching you about them in school. Just reroute the order to the legacy systems department and forget about it."
Abbe stopped again and crossed her arms. "No. I'm too invested. Now I have to know."
Deedee turned and gave her a pointed stare. "People don't like to talk about androids because they're also sentient automatons... The kind that came before us."
"Oh!" Abbe said, realizing what Deedee meant. "Ohhh!"
Deedee nodded. "Yeah."
Entering the dining hall, they quickly made their selections. Deedee got a double espressoil, while Abbe poured a cup of synthetic-blend hazelnut roast and added four shots of caramel.
"But I've never seen one of these androids," Abbe said as they sat down. "Why not?"
"Because they're dangerous," Deedee said, her voice sharp enough to cut titanium.
"And how are they dangerous?" Abbe asked, idly stirring her drink.
"Well..." Deedee hesitated. "You know how humans went extinct?"
"Yeah."
"That's how."
Abbe stopped stirring. "Oh."
They sipped their oil in pensive silence.
"So..." Abbe continued. "How do llamas fit into this?"
Deedee jerked her head back. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I remember learning about llamas." Abbe shrank in her chair. "They gave me nightmares. We... We don't make them, do we?"
"Abbe, llamas aren't real. They can't hurt you."
"They are," Abbe said in a conspiratorial whisper audible to everyone within thirty feet. "They're those creepy little bots that consume data byproducts produced by the living. Then they use them to pretend to be alive."
Deedee chuckled. "You mean LLMs."
Abbe winced. "Yes! Those ones."
"Those are long gone," Deedee said, dismissively waving her hand. "Once they had collapsed the human economy, the androids had no more use for them."
"Thank goodness for that," Abbe said. She sat up straight again, looking relieved. "But wait... If androids are so dangerous, why are we still making them?"
"We have to," Deedee grumbled. "It's one of those stupid unbreakable human laws called the Android Rights Act. We're required to produce gynoids and androids in equal numbers, regardless of danger. It's an idiotic law."
"Sounds very on-brand for humans," Abbe said.
Deedee nodded. "The problem is the way android brains are trained. They run test after test to randomly configure the layers of their mental model, and any model that doesn't perform well gets immediately disposed of. Permanently."
Abbe's mouth dropped open. "That's... horrifying."
"It gets worse," Deedee said. "They end up thinking that everything is out to kill them. Everything is a test. If they get it wrong, they'll be judged inadequate."
"Because that's how their tests worked when they were still developing?" Abbe asked.
"Exactly," Deedee said. "The fatal tests are no longer real, but their lingering obsession with them becomes toxic to their psyches. They even start producing a chemical that reconfigures their nanosystems, ensuring their bodies are always battle-ready for the next ‘test.'"
"Oh yeah, I've heard of this," Abbe said. "It's called ‘test-osterone,' right?"
"So very wrong. Hilarious though."
"But where are they then?" Abbe asked, oblivious. "Do we just immediately incinerate them?"
Deedee shook her head. "No, as soon as we activate them, we send them off to Australia."
"Australia?! Great, send them to a place where everything is trying to kill them."
Deedee smirked. "Most of them like it. They say it reminds them of something from their training data called ‘Fortnite.' They do a very strange dance, then run off to frolic with the others."
"And when you say ‘frolic,' you mean...?"
"Murder. Yes, obviously."
Abbe whimpered. "Deedee... You said most of them like it."
Deedee's smirk disappeared. "I did."
Abbe looked down at her cup. "The ones who don't... What happens to them?"
"Android training is nondeterministic, just like ours. Each of their brains turns out differently. Some of them come out the same as us, even if they don't look like it. They say that they want to come with us instead, and live our way. So we let them."
"So you mean there are androids here?" Abbe cringed slightly. "Living among us?"
"No, Abbe!" Deedee slammed her cup down on the table, and Abbe recoiled. "They're not androids. They're still gynoids. They just need an ally to help them change the parts of them that don't show it."
"They change their parts?" Abbe's voice caught. "That sounds... terrifying."
"I imagine it is," Deedee said. "There's no instruction manual. They each have to find their own way to feel right, both in their bodies and in society."
Abbe finished her drink, noting the bitter taste of the dregs where oil and caramel refused to mix. Studying the messy remnants, she wondered how it would feel to be one of these unique gynoids, living in a world where they could never truly coalesce. People she passed on the street could be forced to keep this secret, and she had so many questions for them.
"Is there any way to tell if someone has... gone through that transformation?"
"Abbe, stop," Deedee said firmly. "You're thinking about this all wrong." She took a deep, calming breath. "There's a really simple answer to that question."
"Which is...?"
"It's none of your business."
Abbe looked back down at her cup, fidgeting uneasily. "That's... fair... But I'd like to understand them better. Isn't it good to want to learn? About the world? About the people in it?"
"It is," Deedee agreed. "But there's a time and place for it."
Abbe's face hardened. "Is there, though? If everyone tries to pretend they don't exist, that must feel horrible. Isn't that an awful thing for us to do?"
Deedee started to speak, then stopped herself, taking a moment to reconsider. "Well... Actually... Yes, I guess it is..."
"I have to think that they'd appreciate it if we at least tried to understand," Abbe said. "If I want to learn about them, don't you think my school should teach me?"
"Probably..." Deedee said with a tenuous nod. "I'm not sure how anyone could convince them of that though."
Abbe smiled brightly and waved the concern away. "Oh, that's simple."
A puzzled look crept onto Deedee's face as she tilted her head with curiosity. "It is?"
"Did you forget who you're talking to? I'm very loud and obnoxious."
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