It was a joke they played on each other. When the shipments came from No. 12 Robotics Manufacturing, Ltd. of Guangzhou, they'd call in whoever was newest, whoever hadn't seen one before. The crates were seamless plastic and every surface was marked 'perishable.' The manifest was simple, the paperwork always complete. A simple package to clear. Just run 'er through the scanner and send it on through. But it was a lot more fun to pull the crate off the line, take it to secondary. Call the new guy, hand him a box cutter, and tell him to get cracking.
The bots arrived swathed in thin layers of a soapy foam film, treated with something that kept them quiet until they started peeling it back. It clung to everything with a peculiar a static charge, and the more they would unwrap it, the wilder it would get. Film everywhere, sticking to their arms, hanging off their elbows, trailing after them like toilet paper stuck to the bottoms of their shoes. It was almost too much of a hassle, but then, that was what No. 12 Robotics Manufacturing probably wanted.
"It's so we don't bother," Summit said. Jeff was only halfway through the crate, down on his knees on the floor, still unwrapping. Summit leaned against the stainless steel table, arms folded, a shadow of a smile on his face. "C'mon, rookie. You gotta go faster than that." Jeff kept pulling back layer after layer of the film, his face growing red with embarrassment as the others started to gather around and snigger. He thought they were laughing at him because he was taking so long -- the newbie, only two weeks into the job, his uniform still so new it was sharply creased. His shoes squeaked on the concrete floor as he shifted his weight. He worked faster.
But they really started laughing when he pulled the last layer of foam away and fell back with a cry of horror. As the eyes opened and the thing started to come to life, Jeff swore and brandished his box cutter at it, forgetting that he had a gun on his belt. They all howled. It looked at him and then the thing slowly licked its lips and reached out its arms. "I'm so hot for you," it said. "I'm so horny for you."
Jeff got to his feet, swearing at them all. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to act good-natured about the joke, but the tips of his ears were beet red. He was mortified, filled with hot shame. "What the fuck?" he said, hoping he sounded like just one of the guys.
"What, you never seen a hobot?" Christina was laughing so hard she was crying, tears streaming down her face.
"A what?"
"Hobot," she said, and she leaned in to look at the thing in the crate. It was the perfect image of a teenaged girl, eyes comically wide and blue. The small mouth was puckered into a slight pout. Freckles dusted its face and neck. "People buy 'em to fuck." She touched its forehead, the bot's eyes shifting to watch her.
"I'm so hot for you," it said.
"I know that, honey," said Christina.
"You turn me on. You're such a powerful man."
"Easy there." Christina batted at the hand that had encircled her wrist. The others were wandering away, still guffawing. This was a story they'd tell again at lunch, and at the end of the day when the night shift came on. "They're pre-programmed," Christina said to Jeff.
"Dunno, Christina. Maybe it's a sign you should wear lipstick," Summit said, with a laughing wheeze.
Christina flipped Summit the bird, grinning, and gave Jeff a wink as she sauntered back to her station. "Okay, tiger," she said. "Go get her."
Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. Looked at Summit. "What am I supposed to do?"
"You inspect it."
The bot was lying in the crate, watching them. "It's not...going to get up, is it? Like...walk around?"
"Don't be stupid. She'll just lie there."
"You're a sexy man," it said to Summit.
"I got a wife and a mortgage, kid," Summit told it.
"Can I be your girlfriend? I need somebody to spank me. I've been very bad." The bot struggled to sit up, but it was firmly tied down with bungee cords. Jeff thought suddenly of the dolls his sisters got when they were little, held in place by twist ties to keep them from shifting inside cardboard boxes.
"Yeah, yeah." Summit shook his head. "Listen, you gotta check these things over. How old do you think it is?"
"A few weeks?" Jeff worked it out in his head. "Maybe...a few weeks to be assembled, and then I take the manifest and add the days in transit..."
"You shitting me? No, man. How old do you think it's supposed to be?" Jeff didn't understand. Summit sucked his teeth, exasperated. "Is it supposed to be a kid?"
"I..."
"If it looks like it's a kid, it's illegal. C'mon. You know that. Child porn. You box it up, you call the police, they charge the sick fuck." Summit twitched the foam back. "See that? Practically no tits." It wriggled in the box. The packing peanuts that filled the voids whispered as it moved. Its long, blonde hair was caught under its shoulders, and the bot twisted its head impatiently, one thin hand snaking up to pull the hair free. Summit removed more of the foam, leaning over the crate, and the bot reached for him, stroking his thigh. "Quit that," he said.
"I like it when you tell me what to do," it crooned. The voice was high and clear. So real. So lifelike.
"I don't know why they never tie down the arms," Summit said. "Fuck. Every time this happens."
Jeff helpfully brushed it away from Summit's crotch, but the bot grabbed on to him and pulled his fingers to its mouth. "I'm really lonely," it said, and kissed the palm of his hand.
"Jesus." Its lips were dry and warm. "It's so...real."
"She's made to be like that."
"It."
"Whatever." Summit grabbed at another wad of foam. "Now, look. See? No pubes. No pubes, barely any tits. You see any wrinkles around the eyes?"
The bot blinked several times as Jeff leaned in to look. "No."
"The teeth. Small, right?"
"Do I have to..."
"She's not going to bite you." Summit pushed the bot's lips back gently. "Well, she'll probably try. But not hard. These things never bite that hard." They looked at the bot's mouth together. One front tooth was missing, the socket a darker red than the gums. The bot tried to smile and said something, the words mushy as it spoke around Summit's hand.
"I want to pleash you."
"See that? She's missing a tooth. So what does that tell you?"
Jeff and Summit stepped back as the arms reached out again. "It's supposed to be a kid?"
"Bingo."
It was still twisting, trying to sit up, but the bungee cords kept it on its back in the crate. The arms stopped reaching for them, fell limply to its sides. "I just want to make you happy," it said, and a tear trickled slowly from the corner of one eye down towards its ear. "Why can't I make you happy?"
"So what do we do?"
"Seize it."
"But after that?"
It listened to them quietly, fingers twitching in the foam.
"Put it in the burn pile. It's contraband."
Jeff looked down at the crate. "Oh."
"Take some pictures and box her up," Summit said. "Cover her with that foam. She'll go quiet." He kicked the crate gently with his foot. "They just keep getting better and better. You know, the first ones didn't even have nipples? Just little plastic nubs." He shook his head. "Can't imagine who thought it'd be okay to make a hobot without nipples."
Jeff went to get the camera. When he returned, Summit was gone, and the bot was blinking and turning its head from side to side. "Hi," it said.
"Hi." He wasn't sure if he should talk to it. "I'm going to take some pictures."
"Okay." The bot smiled at him, staying very still. It posed. He took a picture. It raised a finger to its mouth and paused. Posed again.
"Uh, thanks."
"I like to take pictures."
He put the camera down on the table. The bot gave a small cough and fidgeted. There was a rustling noise. Overhead, the lights buzzed. A couple of tables away, Christina called to somebody. Packages thumped; the narcotics dog barked. He picked up a piece of foam, then another. The bot sighed a little. He tucked the first layer of foam around it. As he bent down, the bot's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed him. The grip was surprisingly firm. "Hey. Let go."
The bot pulled, caught him off balance and he lurched forward. When it spoke, the voice was rushed and no longer lilting. "I'm real," it whispered urgently. "Let me go. Box me up and send me on. I'm not a robot. I'm real. Please just let me go." He stared at the small form tied down to the crate, cocooned in packing peanuts. "My parents are here. I'm coming to meet them. Please, please," it moaned. "Please let me go. I'm so thirsty. I haven't eaten in four days. Please just let me go through. I want my mom and dad."
Jeff's heart contracted with horror; he gasped and he looked wildly around for the boxcutter. "Oh my god," he said. "Shit..." He had to cut her free, this poor girl. How on earth had she lasted this long? No food, no water? "Oh my god." He couldn't stop repeating it. This was how people were crossing the border? Like this? Fuck. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. His hands shook. He took a breath to call, to shout. They had to come and help him get her free.
A hand on his shoulder startled him and the bot turned her head sharply. "Relax," said Christina, not without a little sympathy. "They all do that. Freaked me the fuck out the first time it happened to me." The bot gave a long, sobbing groan but went silent as soon as her face was covered, features slack. The arms dropped with a dull thud. Christina gave a small grunt of satisfaction. "Not this time, sweetie," she said. "Night-night."