GF #011 – Dakini Robots

In that very moment, Meiji’s stupor program cut short, flashed abruptly and she was brutally yanked from her half-dream.

She awoke. She found herself fully nude and sleep-marching, rank and file with seventy-nine of her sisters, inevitably, inexorably, inescapably towards reincarnation.

Meiji’s bruised bare feet stomped the grated floors. She could hear the faint hum and buzz of the mechanical Dakinis further down the line in the disassembly rooms.

Meiji will become one with her kin and anew again. She will be reborn into the latest model, the newest O.S., advanced features, upgrades, bells and whistles.

A calming peace washed over her when she reflected on this. The technological cycle of obsolescence and product launch.

She closed her eyes again, allowing the steady rhythm of her column to sedate her. Sixteen rows, five abreast, a hundred and sixty long, slim, alabaster thighs and shanks in graceful promenade.

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GF #001 – Milk

The first time Solomon laid eyes on Gemma, Yang’s housemaid, he was disarmed.

There, on her left temple, was a distinct birthmark in the shape of a rabbit. He supposed Chinese quadrillionaires like Yang took subtle pleasure in surrounding himself with slight imperfections in what would otherwise be flawless beauty. Yang may have even specifically requested this slight detail when co-designing Gemma, and Miruku Tek happily obliged.

“Yes?” said Gemma, one hand on her hip.

There was an undertone of brusque annoyance in her voice. Which was baffling to the mind as to why Gemma’s programmer would include an algorithm for impatience towards strangers at the door.

“Inspector Solomon, MPD,” he declared. “I have an appointment with Mr. Yang.”

“Right. Follow me, officer.”

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