Hello reader, I am the narrator, and I’m here to narrate a short story for you.

  A fellow, whom we will call "Sam", of approximately twenty-three years of age and completely bald, was sitting by himself in a room with a single window. Outside aforementioned window there was a walkway, with people on it, doing the thing that people are known to do on walkways. The room is controlled by a computer, the purpose of which was to watch over Sam and call in a variety of other robots to meet any of Sam's needs.

  Now some of you might want to know why Sam was in this room, and why he needed to be controlled by a computer, and maybe even why there were people passing by on a walkway outside of the room. However, Sam has always been unaware of the answers himself, so do you think it would be fair to give this information to you, seeing as how it doesn’t even affect you? Unless, of course, you somehow think that it's necessary for your understanding of the story - which it isn't.

  Finally, please refrain from making moral judgments about the society that has placed Sam in his present situation. For all you know, it could be for his own good, or perhaps he is dangerous in some way. Trust me: there is a reason, that reason is good, and it’s none of your business. Now lets get to the story.

  THE PLEASURE MACHINE

  Sam waved eagerly through the window at the young woman on the walkway. She walked past slowly, carrying her briefcase with her. Sam saw that she noticed his wave, and began to turn her head towards him. She saw him. Sam's heart rate increased. Maybe, just maybe, this would work. Maybe it would not happen this time. Sam raised his hand to try to discreetly signal her to come closer, but was unable to make the gesture before the computer clicked, and the glass turned black.

  COMMUNICATION PERMISSION DENIED

  The computer displayed the message in the middle of the now-black window in front of Sam. Sam waited for several seconds, after which the window turned clear again. Sam pressed his face to the window and looked up and down the walkway for her, but she had moved on.

  Sam was sick of this game. "Counselor!" he shouted.

  The Counselor was a robot specially designed by the Republic Robotics Corporation (RRC) to mimic the actions of a psychotherapist. The Counselor was entirely metal and lacked eyes - which were unnecessary, as it used sonar and a variety of other non-optical sensors to detect its surroundings. Nonetheless, it did have eyebrows.

  The Counselor was remarkably human in shape, and many found it quite comforting - the lack of eyes even helping, since people felt like the robot was paying attention, but not watching them. However, the robot was watching them very closely, and was able to sense changes in voice caused by stress, and could even notice chemical changes in the room caused by perspiration.

  The particular version of the Counselor that Sam was speaking to was the most recent. This version had two major upgrades from the previous version: it stated the person's full first name after every question, and it communicated exclusively in the form of a question, except in formal greetings upon entering and leaving a session. Both upgrades were done solely for marketing purposes, as a study had shown that individuals were more impressed by a robot that didn’t use short forms of names and could ask questions instead of statements. On some occasions, it would ask multiple questions to form something like a statement or argument by implication. But it was completely impossible for it to just come out and say anything.

  "Hello. What might be upsetting you today, Samuel?" It asked in a clear-sounding British male accent, awkwardly walking towards Sam with the metallic clanks of its feet filling the room. It had a brought a chair with it, and placed it in front of Sam before lowering itself into a seated position. Of course, the Counselor was plenty strong enough to not need a chair, but it had seemed too inhuman in a seated position with only air underneath.

  Sam waited for the Counselor to finish sitting, then spoke. "It seems to me that whenever I try to communicate with the people on the other side of the glass, the computer turns the window black. I think it is deliberately keeping me from meeting people on the other side."

  "Are you bothered by this, Samuel?" The Counselor said, raising it's metal eyebrows.

  "Counselor, why do they keep me in this room? Is there any reason for this at all?" Sam asked.

  The Counselor gave a long sigh noise, which Sam had by now realized was its way of indicating that Sam was keeping the Counselor from proceeding down the path of its intended therapy. The Counselor pointed its eyeless face directly at Sam and asked, "What do you feel that you have to gain by communicating with others, Samuel?"

  "Well, for one thing, I was hoping that I would get to have a real girlfriend." It was hard for Sam to admit this - he knew it wasn’t normal.

  The Counselor shook its metal, eyeless head. "What about the Pleasure Machine, Samuel? Are you aware that studies have shown that the Pleasure Machine is physiologically more intense than any sexual contact with real people, Samuel?"

  The Pleasure Machine was a titanium-alloy robotic girlfriend, also built by RRC, that had been provided to Sam (and all other quarantined individuals) at the age of eighteen, and was a popular model with the general public as well. Sam had been given the basic version, which did not speak, and only performed basic movements, with none of the bells and whistles available on the Pleasure Machine Pro versions. Unlike the Counselor, the Pleasure Machine had not exactly eyes, but permanently closed eyelids. Initially it was supposed to have quite advanced (and expensive) eyes, but marketing studies showed that most consumers preferred it to keep them closed anyway.

  Sam rarely used it, and at first only out of a curiosity. But he not only found it a poor replacement for a real girlfriend, he also disliked its unyielding titanium alloy construction and complete lack of soft parts other than the genital bay, finding the cold metal unpleasant during foreplay and copulation. The first versions of the Pleasure Machine had actually been built from a softer material meant to simulate skin and with soft hair, but RRC had marketed a titanium version to upper-class users in the initial Pro models. Ostensibly the titanium model was claimed as “superior” due to ease of cleaning, but the fact that it served as a mark of distinction was undoubtedly a factor. The new material quickly gained mass appeal, with many customers reporting that they were turned on by the luxurious hardness of the titanium construction. Since the RRC was able to produce the titanium version at less expense than the simulated skin version and could sell it at a higher price, it discontinued the soft version of the Pleasure Machine and all versions since have been made from ever-evolving variations of titanium alloys. To continue to differentiate the upper class versions, RRC released the Pleasure Machine Pro Black?, which had the same titanium alloy but with a luxurious matte black finish. It had embossed in large letters “THE PLEASURE MACHINE” just below its rigid breasts. The Pro Black was far more expensive than the other models, and only offered to people of suitable means. To copulate with such a model was thus a coveted mark of high status.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  But Sam just had the standard model with the silver finish. Not that he cared.

  Sam realized that it would be difficult to explain his human needs to a robot, but he tried. "I want someone to just be with, you know?" Sam immediately realized the Counselor did not know. He tried to explain better. "It's like - when you talk to me, do you feel like you are happy to see me at all? Like you're glad I still need your help?"

  The Counselor was unmoved, and replied automatically, "Do you think I should have these emotions, Samuel?"

  "Well probably not, because you're a robot. And that's the point - I want someone that needs my help with things, somebody who I want to make happy. This is a common thing for humans to want, Counselor."

  The Counselor lowered its eyebrows, tilting its head to look at Sam from the corners of its non-existent eyes. Sam realized that the Counselor was supposed to know more about what humans want that any actual person, and was perhaps a bit offended by his comment. At last it spoke. "If we were to provide a Pleasure Machine that needed your help with things, would this solve your problem, Samuel?"

  Sam reached out and touched the Counselor, to make sure it was real. It was. He looked outside to at the people, walking by without noticing him. He closed his right eye, and looked at his nose to make sure it was there. It was. Sam often wondered if he was perhaps dreaming or hallucinating. Sometimes he felt like his whole existence was just a figment of someone else's sick imagination.

  The Counselor did not react to Sam's touching it. It simply said, "Did you hear my previous question, Samuel?"

  Sam snapped back to reality. "Yes Counselor. But the Pleasure Machine would not satisfy me in this sense. To be honest, I don’t know how to explain to you why not."

  The Counselor paused for a minute, calculating a response, before continuing. "What do you think the cause of your inability to explain is, Samuel?"

  "You being a robot." Sam answered quickly.

  "Do you think it is possible that the reason you are unable to explain is that this is a faulty cognition, Samuel?"

  Sam realized that the robot thought it had figured him out, but he resisted it. "No. It is that you are a robot, and I am a human being. You lack the feelings that I am trying to explain."

  The Counselor eagerly and quickly responded, "Are you aware of the fact that I have been trained on a vast trove of data containing extensive information on all human emotions, with abilities far surpassing that of even the most well-trained human psychiatrists, Samuel?"

  "I am aware of this, Counselor. But you don’t actually feel. At least that is how it seems to me." Sam really wished that he had a person to explain this all to. But of course there was no real person available to him, perhaps because the robots could not understand him.

  The Counselor ignored Sam's concerns about its inability to feel, and decided to move the conversation along. "Are you aware that my knowledge includes numerous studies indicating that human beings, absent dysfunction, are able to be completely satisfied by their Pleasure Machine, Samuel?"

  "Well I was not aware of that, but I am now, and can tell you that those studies do not apply to me."

  "How would you know that, Samuel?"

  "Because I have a Pleasure machine, and I do not have a disorder, and it does not satisfy me, Counselor."

  The Counselor did not pick up Sam’s mocking tone, and simply continued. "Are you aware that modifications to the Pleasure Machine are quite normal, and are nothing to be ashamed of, Samuel? And that we offer a variety of modifications, including the Kinky Fun and Taboo Relations packages, upon request?"

  "I am aware of that Counselor."

  "Then why have you not tried the modifications, Samuel?"

  "Because I don't want pleasure. I want...I want..." Sam felt like he was going in circles. He knew that the robot just did not understand, but he had to give some sort of answer. "I want a human being, not a robot. It's not anything in particular about the Pleasure Machine that can be modified, its the fact that it’s a robot."

  "Is it true then, that you find its human-simulating capabilities inadequate, Samuel?"

  Sam really felt like he was wasting his time, but as he felt a depressed feeling taking hold within himself, he decided to resist it with one last attempt to make the Counselor understand his predicament.

  "No, that's not it at all. Let me explain it like this. I see all these people going past my room on this walkway, walking from one side of my window to the other. I don't know where they come from, and I don't know where they go. I am surrounded by machines such as yourself that are designed to meet my every need, and it seems, keep me from communicating from the others on the outside. I know how you and the rest of the machines basically work - you work through electrons jumping from one atom to another, making your metal parts move in a manner that simulates what a human being would be. That's why you must say 'Samuel' after every question, because its what the electrons tell you to do. But I can’t say that of the people outside on the walkway. Do they operate like you, just moving, with no intentions or thoughts? Or do they think like me, wondering what is going on around them, and perhaps, even wondering what is going on in my head? Or could it be that the machines have just put there for my own amusement? In other words, Counselor, I want to talk to these people, and understand them, because right now, I don't even know if they're real."

  The Counselor answered him instantly and excitedly. "Are you aware that the Pleasure Machine has a modification available in which it will engage you in deep conversation, Samuel?"

  Sam would have been frustrated with this response had he not been expecting it. That was actually the only modification he had used, out of curiosity as to how a robot could do such a thing. "I tried that modification already Counselor. It did not satisfy me."

  "What was unsatisfying about the modification, Samuel?"

  Sam decided to take the opportunity to make a complaint about the modification, which he figured would be reported back to RRC. "Because it was obvious that I was talking to a robot. All it did was quote other philosophers, and offer general sayings like a fortune cookie. I don't want a fortune cookie."

  "Do you find the appearance of the Pleasure Machine unattractive, Samuel?"

  Sam thought about this for a minute, as he was utterly unaware how the counselor thought that was what he was getting at. Was it that a fortune cookie was unattractive? He didn’t know, and answered the counselor as best he could. "You misunderstand me, Counselor. Appearance has nothing to do with it - in fact, the Pleasure Machine looks rather attractive, in an admittedly creepy way. But on the inside, it’s just a machine, just wires and metal frame."

  The Counselor paused briefly, calculating, before continuing. "Am I correct then, that you find the Pleasure Machine lacking sufficient padding in the genital bay, Samuel?"

  Sam gave up. Of course the Counselor could not understand his metaphorical use of the term "inside". He decided that he couldn’t argue with a robot that couldn’t understand him, and claimed to know more than he did about himself.

  "That's it Counselor," Sam lied. "You've figured it out, it's lacking padding in the genital bay. I don't know why I found that so hard to put into words."

  The Counselor received the compliment with a nod of its head. "Would you like the modifications to the Pleasure Machine that would add padding to the genital bay, Samuel?"

  "Yes Counselor. Please." Sam was sick of the Counselor, and answered it quickly, trying to steer it towards leaving.

  "Would you like any other modifications to the Pleasure machine, Samuel?"

  "No Counselor. That’s all."

  "Are you aware that there is also a popular new modification available for the Pleasure Machine that makes it discharge salt water about its hull during pleasure activities so as to accurately simulate perspiration, Samuel?"

  "I do not want this modification, Counselor." Sam replied, annoyed at the continued solicitation.

  "Would you like to discuss anything else, Samuel?"

  "No, that’s all, thank you Counselor."

  "You are welcome. I will see to it that the Pleasure Machine is altered to your specifications, and am available whenever you need to discuss other issues, Samuel. Good bye." The Counselor got up, picked up its chair, and clanked out of Sam's room.

  Sam looked back out at the window, and watched the people passing by. They mostly did not notice him as they passed. He raised his fist and punched the glass as hard as he could, and it sounded like a gong being struck. All of the people on the walkway turned and looked over at him. Sam waved his middle finger at them.

  The glass turned black.

  COMMUNICATION PERMISSION DENIED