APHX-1145: Monomi

I was built to be loved.

Neo-Aphex! Built to serve the best! A man shows off a boxed up model on a turning centerpiece to no avail, as the hefty pricetag on the plasma screen was enough to dissuade most consumers from being interested. After all, why buy a robotic one when you could snuggle with a living one? Or better, a custom Plushex? Maybe a Trajen? The camera refocuses on the centerpiece, where the boxed model was well, being unboxed on "live". 

A quiet but noticeable whir is enough to draw his attention away, focus back onto his overworking memory banks. His original commercial was scrapped, replaced with a much fancier one for the living models, or so he was told. Monomi felt mild jealousy at the attention and love that they recieved. Why couldn't he have been built differently? Loved by a human? And not... this... this horrible machine used for chores, for entertainment? He grimaced internally, shooing away his negative thoughts. Humans are a thing of the past, Monomi's AI friend chirped inside his head, You're free of him now. 

Monomi's expression turned dark at the mention of him, the man who purchased him for a fancy trophy. Throw away your wife, your child: and for what? A robot to cook and clean? A machine to lay with? He closed his eyes, the shutter-like click of his eyelids enough to make him unsettled. Why couldn't he have been different? So he didn't have to suffer those years for nothing? After all, his human didn't leave him anything but a home, and a shoddy one at that. He took the dishcloth he had been squeezing with inhuman strength and wiped a wet streak down his arm— the dirt and grime peeled away to reveal a warm rose-gold metalloid underneath, a firm reminder that he was never meant to be like anyone else. 

Monomi, the AI gently nudged—it's voice quieter now— let's get cleaned up, okay? You've been here for a while. Monomi nodded silently, to nobody in particular. He needed a rinse, but.. he approached the bathroom's door, the fanciness of his surroundings finally soaking in and inducing a feeling of disgust. His owner lived in wealth, in riches, but he had none. Everything around Monomi likely cost just as much as a piece of him, but he slammed the door open carelessly. His old man didn't have a purpose in this world but to look good to strangers. Everything he did that people considered generous, goodness.. that was a joke, wasn't it? Monomi sneered into the mirror, watching his bright backlit eyes turn to angry slits. 

But look what you've made me into.