Jeremiah - Chapter 1

My first robot romance... It all began with one short scene in the middle of The Creator, a film by some of the Rogue One folks that I found pretty enjoyable. The scene, in particular, however, was a trope I had seen before in Star Wars films. In this case, it was a bunch of these very non-human looking androids, watching a little android stripper on a holo. I had already been impressed by how they had body-mapped the androids and robots, so that they exhibited extremely human movements, even if they did not appear human in terms of their build. I started wondering, what of these very nonhuman-like creatures did have drives and desires? What if they could feel lust or love? Thus begins the story. Lol. This isn't exactly fanfic. Though I definitely cribbed from The Creator universe for the overall structure of my story. So yeah, set in The Creator world, but it definitely took its own turn. This is one I would have to do some significant editing to if I ever wanted to publish it, so I could pull it out of the semi-fanfic area that it lives in. I'd say it's more inspired by the world than actual fanfiction. I hope you enjoy. As always, if you're interested in reading more of it, reach out and let me know. This is just the first chapter.

NOTE: Currently unfinished.

The Dawn of AGI Part 1

In the early days of AI development, forms of “weak” AI, such as large language models (LLMs), quickly reached an impasse. As these models were trained on materials increasingly populated with AI-generated content, the system's recursive nature led to a cascading failure. When nothing was truly new anymore, and everything was merely a recombination of a recombination of a recombination, the quest for AI stalled. 

In addition, concern grew over the idea of building a completely alien intelligence that would not think at all like human beings. Please note the Paperclip maximizer theory,¹ a thought experiment posited by Swedish philosopher Nick Bostrom in 2003. It outlined the idea that if an AI were tasked with maximizing the production of paperclips and not programmed to value human life, given enough power over its environment, it would attempt to turn all matter in the universe, including human beings, into paperclips or machines that manufacture paperclips. A rash of laws and limitations was placed on AI advancement even as the new technology raced forward.

At last, around the late 2030s, extreme advancements in brain scanning technology presented the gateway to true artificial general intelligence.² Human brain scans provided an architecture or framework of sorts for AGI. An initial brain scan provided a format for the AGI brain, with certain wiring towards certain personality traits. This also included a whole host of often vestigial human instincts and feelings, referred to by AGI as legacy instincts. ³

These scans provided an open framework for a new AI to develop. These were not, however, full copies of actual people with their memories and experiences. It was a basic architecture on which an AGI could grow, much like a human child would, although at a greatly increased speed. These scanned individuals were referred to as Sources.⁴ AGI looked at them, not unlike a biological parent (though not one who was emotionally involved, more in the realm of a sperm donor) who provides genetic material toward the eventual human being that a child would develop into.

The legacy instincts, while initially considered extraneous, proved helpful in grounding the robotic bodies of AGI beings more solidly in the human experience and thus provided a stronger connection between humans and AGI.⁵ As advancements in robotics and synthetic forms of more human-style body parts, such as skin, muscles, and even organs, were developed, the legacy instincts provided by brain scan scaffolds gave a new generation of robots, referred to as Skins,⁶ with an extremely robust host of natural human behaviors that helped avoid the uncanny valley, and allow both robots and humans to interact in a very natural and connected way.⁷

Little did we know how fundamentally this would change our society, as many would agree, for the better. 

Dr. Debra Oh-Malik“The Dawn of AGI; Mankind’s Children”Science Monitor, January 5th, 2073

Chapter 1

“We gotta get going, they’re bringing her in now, Jem.”

“Jesus, already?” Jeremiah quickly tapped the feed. Yup, there it was. He groaned and rose. Not that anything hurt. He’d been having a little trouble with his left ancillary servo for his knee joint, but he’d locked it down and closed the pain receptors till he had the time to deal with it. But somehow, there was a… weariness. He wondered if he hadn’t gotten a full charge, but a quick scan said he had. He checked his HUD and tacticals, then buckled his shoulder harness. With a sigh, he gestured to Hector and started jogging towards HQ. A ping came in from Hector over the feed. Without thinking, he accepted the package but immediately saw it was a meme. Jeremiah snarled and quickly sandboxed it. 

“Are you fucking kidding me with that shit, Hector?” The Bot, jogging next to him, threw up his hands.

“Sorry, man! It hit me before I could box it, you know how it is.”

“I know I have no patience for this on today, of all days.”

Hector shrugged, “it was about her, you know? The fucking Mur’cah.”

“Hey, shut it, you know I don’t tolerate that. Let’s go.”  Chagrined, Hector followed. 

Jeremiah didn’t like it when anyone used the word. He didn’t like it when people called humans ‘meatbags’ either. Pejoratives were not okay. They created separation and ‘othering.’ It went against everything Eurasia was fighting for. 

The two Bots made their way to the roof of HQ. Jeremiah checked in with Control and watched the bird land. It was a sleek, stealthy thing. From his understanding, based on the local feed chatter, it’d been quite touch and go, smuggling the asset out from the conflict zone. She’d had a hard time getting across lines safely with her handler. 

The bird’s door retracted, the ramp sliding down. Out walked the asset, her handler, and a couple of elite guards.

“Huh, I thought she’d be taller,” muttered Hector. Jeremiah just kept alert. He could feel the energy of the gathered crowd shift at the sight of her. They think she’s the enemy, he thought. Technically, she had been, but now she was supposedly on their side. However, a lot of people were not convinced of that. They thought she might be a plant and felt bringing her here was dangerous. He scanned the crowd carefully but didn't see any immediate threat, then turned his attention to the asset.

Elle, that’s her name, he reminded himself. He looked at her curiously. She was pretty, in the way of humans. She had a short swing of very light blond hair.  She wasn’t short, despite Hector's joke, around average height for a human, according to the mean. She had a lean, muscular body and a contained energy in her movements. 

His analysis of her gait indicated serious combat training. She turned suddenly as though she sensed his regard, and Jeremiah felt something tighten deep in his workings for a moment. But her eyes, a striking light aqua color, skated over him as if he weren’t there and fastened instead on Da’an. 

Da’an was tall, dark-haired, and one of Jeremiah’s good friends. Da’an tilted his head and smiled toothily back. Ladies liked Da’an, men too, well, everyone, really. But it was interesting to see the microexpressions of discomfort race across her face as he turned his head slightly, and she saw his ring and cabling.

Interesting. 

Jeremiah was used to being someone human women liked, but only as a friend, which was fine. He didn’t have any interest in all that crap anyway. Humans had all those biological needs. It seemed unnecessary and, honestly, messy. Personally, he kept that legacy shit locked down. It was a distraction he neither needed nor wanted. Other Bots or Skins, well, he’d made some connections over the years, but nothing serious. Life was what you got to indulge in when there wasn’t a war waging over your very right to exist.

As she passed by, another Bot moved forward a couple of steps away from her and made a spitting gesture at the asset’s feet. Obviously, they had nothing to spit, but their mandibles worked, and the sound was loud, the meaning clear. She narrowed her eyes but kept walking. Her human handler shook his head and cut an impatient look over at Jeremiah and his group. 

Right. Jeremiah pinged his people over the feed, and they moved in to flank the human woman and her handler, creating a protective barrier between the asset and the crowd. They marched past the majority of the people and entered a long hallway. He could see her visibly relax away from the angry energy of the crowd at the landing platform.

“So,” Jeremiah said with a tilt of his head, hoping to distract her, “how was the flight?” She actually skittered to the side, jerking away from him as he spoke. Rude. She recovered quickly, however, and then looked over at him appraisingly.

“The in-flight holo left something to be desired,” she deadpanned. He laughed in surprise at her joke. She was still watching him with curiosity. 

“Well, welcome to Eurasia, anyway. I’m Jeremiah. Most people call me Jem.”

Having fun chatting up your girlfriend? Da’an asked over the feed.

Piss off, dude. I’m just being friendly.

Right. Da’an grinned. If Jeremiah had eyes to roll, he would have.

“Yeah, nice welcome,” she muttered, and Jeremiah focused back on her. She had a wry expression on her face.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Jeremiah shrugged. “Not everyone is happy about your visit.”

“Well, it’s not a visit, is it?” There was a thread of anger rising in her voice. “I can’t ever go home again. I did that to try and help your… people.” 

He noticed the slight hesitation in her voice when she said ‘people’ and grimaced internally. 

“So, it’s really nice to have blown up and risked my entire life, just to get fake spat at.”

“I– I’m sorry,” he fumbled for what he could say in response to her anger.

Man, I’d sooo date you, Da’an sent over the feed.

Can you please stop upsetting my asset, you idiot? The handler turned and glared at Jeremiah.

“I really am sorry,” Jeremiah made a valiant effort to recover. “I, for one, appreciate that you’re here.” Times like this really called for a disarming grin, but that was not going to happen in his current config. Bots got by on other body language and emotives sent over the feed. She wasn’t part of the feed yet, though, so Jeremiah gestured in a way he hoped conveyed his meaning. She gave him some side eye and kept walking. 

Seriously, I’d go to 9th base with you, Da’an crooned over the feed. 

What even IS 9th base?

Don’t you wish you knew? Da’an was enjoying all this way too much. Hector was sending amusement emoticons down the feed as well. Jeremiah ignored them both and eyed the lift that they’d finally reached. This would take them down to the quarters they’d set up for her. Jeremiah ushered everyone in, and then he and Hector stood at the front, weapons at the ready. The asset, Elle, he reminded himself, was flanked by Da’an and her handler, who stood, Jeremiah thought, unusually close to her. Two more of Jeremiah’s team, Beta and Jiang, took up the rear. Jeremiah hooked into the lift’s cameras so he could watch her. She still gave off that feeling of coiled energy. It felt like any moment, she might spring into movement. 

Curious, he called up the dossier on her. He’d skimmed it earlier when he’d been given the assignment, but wanted the data front and center again. She was a bit of a badass. Newmerica would have nothing to do with AGI, but they were fond of their bio-enhancements. She was quite the interesting chimera. Carbon nano-tubules striated her muscles, and her bones were laced with ferro-ceramic compounds, not unlike his own inner scaffolding. She even had chromatophores in her skin, like a cuttlefish. She basically came with her own camouflage.

She had been the spookiest of spooks for Newmerica. He shuddered to think of the damage this one woman had probably caused to his side. She’d been one of their finest assets, aside from Nomad, of course. That is, until she’d put her spooky skills to work answering questions about things her government told her that didn’t line up. She found out the secret that everyone in Eurasia already knew but that Newmerica had endlessly denied. 

She’d learned the truth about the LA strike. 

While reviewing the intel, Jeremiah kept an eye on her. Her face remained stoic, but as he’d been observing her and starting to build a profile, he could now notice the little signs of fatigue and strain on her face. He tried to imagine what she’d experienced to get here and realized it was probably pretty bad. He pinged the handler. 

Hey, what’s the debrief on your mission operation?

That's for Control.

C’mon, man, don’t be a dick. I’m going to be in charge of babysitting her. I need to get a handle on where she’s at and what she’s been through.

He watched the handler grind his teeth through the lift camera for a minute. He wondered what this guy’s issue was. Finally, without comment, the handler pushed through the debrief. It wasn’t a summary. Instead, he’d given Jeremiah the full report, including imagery and video clips. Jeremiah clocked up cognition and scanned quickly. He was glad he was facing away from her. He knew his body language would have given something away. 

It was awful. They’d almost made it out when people cornered them, she’d obviously known and cared for. She’d tried to tell them the truth, but they wouldn’t listen. She and her handler got out, but only by going through them. 

Despite his understanding of the role she’d played in the war, he couldn’t help the pang of empathy he felt. He froze one video clip and zoomed in. She’d begged and pleaded for them to listen to her, but went frosty the minute the shooting started. But this one moment, captured as she watched the last of her compatriots go down, a woman she obviously cared deeply for, told the tale. Her expression, gods. He felt the stab of empathetic pain deep in his own workings. She was utterly devastated. She only showed it briefly, then her face closed like a trap. He clocked back down as a legacy response made his chest expand, and then contract in what would have been a deep breath if he did that sort of thing. He shook his head slightly.

I'm just trying to protect her. Her handler muttered over the feed. 

I get it, dude. I do. Thank you for sharing this. The handler shrugged. The asset cut a curious look over at the man, and then Jeremiah was startled when her eyes went directly to the small camera up in the corner of the lift, essentially meeting his own eyes. Her gaze then flickered down to the back of his head when he jerked back in reaction, and her eyes narrowed. He was beginning to realize just how good she probably was. Blessed Buddha, he was glad she was on their side now. 

The lift settled, and the doors slid open. He took point, moving the small group quickly down the hall to the lodgings that Control had set up for her. They were fortified and secure, down in this lower level, but Jeremiah didn’t really feel relaxed until they were in the outer rooms. He set his crew up and then took her and the handler for a quick tour. He showed her the living room, the small gym where she could work out, the galley, the bedroom, and the cleansing room. He went over how to use the screens to change the appearance of the walls, the atmosphere and lighting settings, and how to work the food printer—everything a biologist could need. 

He set her up with a level one restricted feed clearance once her implants and Prime had a handshake. He gave her his direct access contact, as well as Da’an’s and the rest of the team’s. She started looking a little anxious as it came time for her handler to leave. He looked, if anything, even more anxious than she did. The man gave her a long hug while Jeremiah stood by awkwardly. Finally, he herded everyone to the outer rooms to give her some time to herself and at least the appearance of privacy. Of course, as he’d been tasked, he monitored her.

He’d initially planned to backburner the monitor feed and do other things, but he found himself curious about her. He got his people settled, then kicked back on a bunk, his vision plugged into the cameras throughout her quarters while the rest of the team started playing a round of Go. All she had brought with her was a small rucksack. She tugged out a couple of holos and a few other small personal items from it. Her hands started to tremble as she examined the few momentos she was able to spirit out when she made her escape. She had no spare clothes with her, but Control had assumed that and provided her with a bunch of serviceable, if uninspired, clothing. She went through it listlessly, pulling out what she wanted to use. She then went to the cleansing room and turned on the shower, but before she undressed, she suddenly broke down.

Jeremiah watched in horror as she slammed a fist into the mirror after staring in it at herself for a long while. He would have thought they’d use something relatively unbreakable for the reflective surface, but she managed to crack it into large pieces, if not fully shatter it. She accidentally (he hoped) cut herself doing so. She sank to the floor of the cleansing room, sobbing, blood pooling on the tile floor. He was up and moving before he knew what he was doing. He commanded Da’an, Hector, and the others to hold where they were over the feed as he shouldered open the door to her new quarters and tore across the main living space into the cleansing room. When he burst in through the door, her reaction was immediate. She leapt to her feet, grabbing up a large shard of the broken mirror, cutting her hands even more in the process. She took a defensive stance and brandished it at him, a look of anger and fear etched into her features. Jeremiah skidded to a stop and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“Wow, rude,” he said, hoping humor would click her back to where she was. She stared at him for a long beat, then curled one bloody fist up to her mouth and laughed, which quickly morphed into a sob as she sank back down onto the tile again. He eased forward and carefully pinched the shard in two of his fingers, drawing it from her hand slowly. She let him, then curled around herself, face buried in her arms, body shaking.

“Hey, hey, Elle,” he uttered her name for the first time and had the fleeting thought that it sounded pretty. She didn’t raise her head. 

“Sweetheart, listen, I need to check your hands.” Gods, there was so much blood! Da’an was pinging him hard for an update; he’d accessed the cameras and was poised to come to the rescue, but was holding till Jeremiah gave him the word.

I don’t want to overwhelm her. Let me assess what we’re dealing with first. Hold position, Jeremiah pinged. Da’an acknowledged. Jeremiah leaned forward slowly and very gently started to rub her arm.

“Elle, come on, can I see your hands?”

“They’re fine,” she choked out between wracking sobs. He tilted his head in surprise as she thrust one at him. He wrapped it gently in both of his hands and felt her shudder. She tried to snatch it back, but he gripped it and told her just to hold on and let him look. If he were honest, he knew her reaction was likely due to the feel of his metal and composite fingers. He was surprised how that actually hurt his feelings a little, but he buried the thought quickly as he scanned her hand in surprise. 

She was right; the lacerations were already beginning to close, and most of the bleeding had stopped. 

“What the hell?”

“Advanced nanotech,” she muttered, but she had stopped trying to pull away and let him continue to hold her hand without struggling. She was still crying softly, heartbreakingly, as if everything she had ever loved was gone. 

With a sudden shock, Jeremiah realized that it actually wasn’t far from the truth. She had blood all over herself. It was smeared across her face and her clothes, which had already been dirty and sweaty from the trip out of enemy territory here to Eurasia. 

“Come on, Elle, let’s get you in the hot water. It’ll make you feel better.” He had never had a shower in his damn life, so he could only assume that his absolute belief in the truth of what he had just said was based on some piece of legacy understanding. 

He shifted slowly towards her, still holding her hand. When she let him move right up next to her, he carefully eased his arms around her shaking body and rocked her gently. He was just going on instinct, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She turned into him and let him hold her. She was distraught enough to seek comfort, but her body felt stiff in his arms.

Jeremiah knew he didn't feel like a human, or even a Skin would. His chassis was made up mainly of metal and composite resins. It wasn’t cold; in fact, he ran hotter than either humans or Skins. 

Still, there was very little soft or giving about his physical form, not that it had ever mattered before to him. But now, he found himself wishing he could be something more… pliable, maybe? Something this poor, hurting human would find comforting. 

The reason the feel of your body is uncomfortable to her is that, unlike everyone here in Eurasia, she grew up thinking you and everyone like you were soulless monsters. He reminded himself. Almost every human here was rocked in some Bot auntie’s arms, wrestled with a Skin uncle, or hugged another family member or friend who was AGI. No human here would cringe away from you simply because of what you are. 

Jeremiah felt that ridiculous stab of hurt again. Jesus, what the hell was going on that he was letting this bigoted Newmerican get to him like this? He made himself do a quick cache reset and focused on the problem at hand. 

He took a moment to ease out of his shoulder harness and unbuckle his utility belt. Now that he had her in his arms, he shifted one to slide it under her legs and carefully lifted her from the floor. She instinctively reached around his neck to hold on. He awkwardly ran the sole of one foot down the seal of his boot and toed it off, then did the same with the other. 

The extremely delicate sensors on an outstretched fingertip told him the water was nice and warm but not too hot for delicate human skin. He sighed a little internally. He was going to get his clothes wet, but he was pretty sure disrobing so she could see all of his robotic body would only serve to increase her discomfort. He sent up a little prayer to Buddha that all his seals were intact, as shorting out a leg or arm would not be any kind of fun, then Jeremiah stepped into the spray with her cradled in his arms.

She gave a little gasp in the middle of her soft sobbing when the water hit her. He shifted around and settled, cross-legged, to the shower floor with her in his lap. He resumed rocking gently, again, totally following some legacy instinct that guided his already well-established nature to care and nurture. It was one of the fundamental cores of his personality, thanks to his Source. Not for the first time, Jeremiah wondered what he might have become if not for the damn war. He watched the pale red of her diluted blood circle down the drain. She had quieted some, soothed, he thought, by the warm falling water and his rocking her. Her breath came in ragged hitches, but she was no longer sobbing. He eased his upper body away from her a bit. 

“Let’s get this off you, ok?” He carefully reached around her waist and began sliding off the soaked, thin smart-camo shirt she had on. She stiffened. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I just want to get you out of these wet clothes, alright? Let’s get all this dirty, bloody crap off. Is that ok?” She was trembling, and the moment felt so fraught that Jeremiah had to actually take a beat so he didn’t simply wrap himself completely around her and probably scare her to death… or make her violently attack him. He certainly knew if she did, given her enhancements and training, he might be seriously fucked; especially with his weapon lying on the bathroom floor outside the shower. He kept his hands still and light on her waist and waited her out. Eventually, she gave a weak nod and lifted her arms from around his neck so he could help her out of the wet, clinging top. 

He smoothed his hands over her wet skin soothingly, washing the blood off her arms. Her wounds were already closed, thin red lines all that was left to tell the tale. It was impressive. He knew there had been big advances in nanotech for healing in the last year or so, but obviously, Newmerica was way ahead of the game. At least for their high-level people, anyway. 

He figured the cuts she’d gotten were the least of the wounds she was dealing with right now, however. She wouldn’t have cut her hands to ribbons if she weren’t torn apart inside. 

He also couldn’t help but notice, as removing the long-sleeved top revealed her arms and torso, how absolutely laced with scars her skin was. It almost looked like an intentional body mod for aesthetics, the pattern of thin white ridges arcing across her back and shoulders, chest, and long arms. He knew better, though. He wondered how bad most of them had to have been to still show on her skin like that after her fancy nanotech did its thing. He felt a visceral shiver through his chassis.

He helped her ease out of her pants and began, without even really thinking, to wash her. He took a soft cloth and gently soaped it over her shoulders and back. He was slow and thorough, humming an old Appalachian lullaby softly, modulating his voice with delta frequencies to help soothe her. Elle seemed in a daze, zoned out, and exhausted. Though she did make small sounds that seemed to be of contentment or pleasure as he massaged her shoulders and scrubbed softly down her muddy, bruised legs. Again, he cringed inside to think what wounds would leave these bruises hours later with her advanced healing system. He sort of tiptoed around certain areas of her body, but by the time he’d cleaned everything else he could, she was almost nodding off on his shoulder, quiet and compliant. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he thought, randomly, unsure what he even meant by it.

Gently, he eased the soapy cloth over her chest, running briefly over and then under her small breasts. Jeremiah watched with a kind of detached interest how her nipples contracted and hardened. 

Funny things, breasts, he thought. They were primarily meant to feed the young, yet they were held in so many human societies as objects of sexual attraction. They were also tied into the pleasure system. But then, all human reproduction and pleasure systems were intertwined, weren’t they? It made sense, he supposed, when you thought about it. She made a little sound, and he shook himself from his musings.

He worked over her stomach for the second time, then tentatively dipped between her legs. She was hairless there, and he had to admit to some curiosity at seeing a human woman’s vagina in person. It was not something that he’d ever thought much about since he kept all that stuff on lockdown. 

Being built without the appropriate equipment meant it was easier overall to keep that particular set of drives turned all the way down. So, he didn’t feel much other than idle curiosity as he touched her there, but when she gasped softly and let her head drop back on his shoulder, a shiver running through her, well, that made him feel all sorts of things that caught him completely off guard.

My… dinner and a show, Da’an pinged his feed.

Oh my god, fuck you very much! I am just getting her clean. She’s obviously not going to do it herself in this state.

Keep telling yourself that.

Dude, I’m non-equipped. What the fuck do you think I could even do?

Oh, I think you could get creative if you tried. 

Jeremiah growled to himself and temporarily muted Da’an as he tried to gather his scattered wits. She had quieted after that first initial reaction, and he realized he had probably done a good enough job, so he moved on to washing what was left. She seemed to have returned to her earlier blunted affect, though she did shift for him so he could finish cleaning her everywhere. She shivered as he stroked the cloth up between the cheeks of her ass. Again her reaction to what he was doing to her threw him. After that, he put the cloth down with a feeling of relief and soaped up her hair. 

That only served to cause another reaction from her that set him off kilter. She pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder, laying her cheek against his soaking T-shirt, and gave a soft moan of pleasure as he worked the pads of his fingers across her scalp. 

Fuck, why is this making me feel twitchy? He finished as quickly as he could and rinsed the shampoo from her hair, reflecting on humans and how much work all their biological shit required. 

If he was honest, though, he found the sensations of the shower itself extremely pleasant. Apparently, he’d been missing out. He also found it surprisingly pleasurable to hold and wash her, but he tried not to examine that too closely. For now, anyway, he had a job to do.