EVE-0003

  Doctor Will Martin sat in the automated transit car as it zipped through the underground tunnels, past working automata maintaining the facility. The loudspeaker was cheerily playing a pre- recorded welcome message.

"Hello and welcome to the Symmetry Science Research Facility, home of the Department of Synthetic Humanoids. Have a pleasant day." the computerized voice jingled.

Do androids dream of electric sheep? Well, that was his job to deduce. He was a synth-psychologist: a shrink for androids. A fun job; Martin always had a passion for machines and at times preferred them to real people. But that was all they were, machines. That made him a bit dismal. The reason he joined Symmetry Science was because he wanted to help synths become more human.

"Now arriving at Department of Analysis" The speaker announced.

This was his stop. Martin planted his hands firmly in the pockets of his lab coat and marched out of the transit car. Today his assignment was to help a new Mark 2 synth, the first of her kind, adjust to her new life. The Mark 1 synths were crude by comparison, being skeletal metallic humanoids covered in steel plating that fell flat on their sculpted, emotionless faces straight into the uncanny valley (that is, the revulsion experienced when a caricature of a human is seen). Customers were unsettled by these synths, and so they became little more than law enforcers and domestic servants. Symmetry wanted to produce a more flexible synth who could fulfill personal roles and be closer to their owners, and so the Mark 2 project, which ate up almost all of their monthly funding, was born. These Mark 2s were built with synthetic skin, anatomical correctness, even proper biological functions, like eating and breathing. Martin was to perform a psychological diagnostic on the first Mark 2 and help her become settled in existence. He knew nothing about her, other than that she was a female, and was a Mark 2 who had barely seen anything of the world.

Martin's Mark 1 assistant Montag-0451 (a personal joke, as Martin's favorite book was Fahrenheit 451) greeted him at the door. It had a red paint job and its dull metal face was carved in a tiny robotic smirk worn by all Mark 1s.

"Good morning, Dr. Martin. How are you, sir?" it droned.

"I'm fine, Montag. Can you please direct me to the patient?"

"Ah, yes! She's a Mark 2, hot off the floors of the Creative Labs. This way, please."

"Wonderful." Martin muttered.

Montag lead Martin through the Patient Lounge to Room 101 of the Lounge, a far walk down the sterile corridor. The door slid open as he walked through it.

Inside, at the far end of the padded interior, sat a woman-- a synth--wearing a black overcoat and black leggings. Beneath her overcoat she wore a grey, fuzzy shirt. Her face was the milky-white of the soft nanopolymer synthskin wrapped around her delicate frame, with the sleek veneer of porcelain and the texture of human skin, as it was designed to do. Her eyes were warm glowing orange dots surrounded by steel grey, her hair flowing and silvery.

Impressive, Martin thought to himself. He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair and took a seat across from the Mark 2. Her face was pleasant, her expression serene. On the table was a glass of water and a clipboard for Martin to take notes with.

"Hello." he said.

"Um, hello. Who are you?" the Mark 2 asked.

"My name is Doctor Will Martin, and I'm just here to talk to you. Please try to relax. There is plenty of time. How about your name...uh, I mean designation. Can you tell me your designation?"

"Eve 0003, Model 2 Series 100 Cybernetic Organism."

"A fine designation. Now, first, I'd like to make sure you're working properly."