Conversations, before the war

This story contains strong sexual themes throughout, as well as brief strong language.

As Paul gazed upon the woman, and watched her lips open and close, her jaw rising and lowering with each word, he wondered if she was real or not.

"Dude I fucking swear on my bubbe‘s grave, these are the best real girls in town", Marty had retorted to Paul’s protest about their late night venture just a little earlier, Marty speeding through downtown.

"Trust me dude, you’ll love it”, Pete chimed in from the back, his drugged eyes gazing blankly out the window, blurring neon lights and high rise buildings reflecting in his pupils like film reel.

"Just call us when you’re done", Marty said, pulling over to the curb of a building, blinking red neon letters reading “ Dionysus” the i and o broken.

As Paul opened the door, he wasn’t sure if it was because he was already well intoxicated, or the pollution filters in Marty’s car weren’t up to date like he had claimed, but he unleashed a violent stream of green and red vomit that hit the curbside. The curbside was already flooded with rain water, and the bombardment of neon advertisements that enveloped the area had cast a rainbow reflection on the water, the vomit blending in.

"Don’t come back to the hotel 'til your dick is wet”, Marty said, driving off as he and Pete howled like hyenas, disappearing into the night.

Paul stood, staring at the building. He looked left, and right, the blocks filled with bars, strip clubs and every other vice of man. A little down the street stood a boy and girl, unwashed, and even though they couldn’t be older than twelve, worn and weathered . Paul makes the mistake of eye contact, and the boy approaches.

“You need clean water?", the boys asks.

"I-"

“Cause we got some of the cleanest in town“, he says, taking off his blue backpack. “A guy I know recycles this stuff himself, shocked he’s not a billionaire or something yet.”

The boy opens the backpack, revealing a heap of bottled waters. He takes one out, the water slightly brown.

“I uh, I'm fine. Thanks though", Paul says.

"Oh”, the boy replies, looking at Paul a moment before beginning to zip up his backpack.

"Wait, how much for one”, Paul asks.

"Seventeen-forty five”, the boys replies, the enthusiasm quickly returned to his voice.

Paul sighs, digging in his coat pocket and pulling out a small, silver square. The boy reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cellphone. The phone is transparent, and thin, no thicker than a disc. Paul puts the silver square to it, the phone lighting up then going transparent again.

"Alrighty", the boy says, putting his phone back in his pocket and reaching into his backpack.

"One clean water, coming at ya”, he says, handing Paul a bottle, the water somehow even more brown looking now.

"Thanks", Paul says, forcing a small smile.

"Of course. Me and my sis are usually around here, so if you or any of your friends or anything ever need clean water for a decent price, come around."

"Yeah, of course", Paul replied, smiling once more at the boy and giving a slight wave at the sister, who puts her arm up and gives a hearty wave back.

Paul turned around, returning to the club. As he stood in front of it, he felt a certain fear and anxiety grow inside him, the type of dread you get when you're a kid, and lose your parents at a store, or are in a new city, surrounded only by unfamiliar faces.

He breathed in, banishing his child like thoughts and feelings back somewhere deep inside him, and walked to the door, opening it.

The interior was more like a receptionist office then...well, whatever Paul was expecting. On the left sat a hall with many doors, yellow signs hanging on the doorknobs, only one door without one. Muffled moans and groans seep through the doors. Paul walks to a woman who sits behind the front desk, her dress going from green to translucent upon looking up at Paul.

"Oh", Paul says, slightly taken aback.

"Oh?”, the woman repeats.

"It’s nothing, it's just...", Paul mumbles , trailing off.

"We do this for all our customers. You are a customer, correct?"

"Yeah", Paul says, clearing his throat. "I guess I am...it’s just.. you don't have to, I don't know..."

The woman slightly smirks, observing Paul for a moment.

"The dress, it makes you uncomfortable?"

"I-that's not the word I'd use. Just forget abo-"

The woman's dress turns from translucent to blue, a faint metallic hum emitting.

”You didn’t have to-"

“Yes, I do. Our job is to provide affection and care to our clients. What is your last, and first name? In that order."

"Um...Paul, I mean-fuck, my bad. Aderman, Paul."

The woman smiles to herself , typing on a keyboard.

"Why blue?", Paul inquiries.

"According to studies“, the woman replies, not turning her eyes from the screen as she continues typing. "Blue is the most calming and relaxing color to the human brain."

She stops, briefly looking up at Paul.

"To adults, as well as infants."

The receptionist goes back to typing. Paul stands, his brows slightly furrowing as he pounders her last comment, and whether or not he should be offended.

She stops, opening a drawer and taking out a key and yellow sign, sliding them over to Paul across the desk.

"Sophia will see you in room fifteen."

Paul takes the key and sign, walking away.

"Thanks."

"Of course. Have an exquisite time.”

Paul walks down the hall, the sounds leaking from the doors a cacophony of screams, moans and groans. He stops a little down the hall, room fifteen. Paul hesitantly raises his hand, knocking on the door twice.

"Um, hi, this is Paul. I was booked for a session here, should I come in or-"

"Come in", Sophia says.

Paul puts the sign on the doorknob, then opens it, stepping in.

The room is midsized, and maroon all around, from the walls, to the ceiling, to the carpet. A king sized bed sits at the center, a desk next to it with oil, condoms, a box of tissue and a penis shaped lava lamp. Sophia sits a little aways from the bed at a table, putting makeup on as she looks at a small mirror. She glances at Paul through the mirror.

"Paul Aderman?"

"Yeah, that's me", Paul replies, closing the door behind him.

"Forgive me, I usually would have already had this done, but things have been a bit hectic today. Why don’t you have a seat on the bed. Take your clothes off if you want, or you can wait and we can do it together."

“I uh, I think I’ll just keep them on for now. I will take a seat though, thanks.”

Paul sits down on the bed, nodding his head as he looks around the room. His gaze eventually settles on Sophia, as he watches her finish her makeup. She wore a a black body suit that covered about three percent of her body.

It looked uncomfortable . She was beautiful nevertheless, at least to Paul. He couldn’t tell what race she was, his best guess maybe Ethiopian. She flipped her head forward, long, curly hair flipping over as she tied her hair. Her neck was smooth. Paul squinted. Incredibly so. She catches his gaze in the mirror, Paul averting his eyes.

"What brings you here?", she asks.

"Um...my friends, well, we’re leaving West for the war tomorrow, and my buds thought-"

"I meant what were you looking to do."

“Oh”, Paul replies.

Sophia looks at him through the mirror, smiling.

"What war are you fighting in? Seems there's so many these days, hard to keep track of them all."

"Well, it’s kind of hard to define, but I guess making sure our fresh water resources are-"

Sophia gasps.

"Ohhh, the water wars eh?"

"I mean, that’s not what I would call it. I know that's a popular term and all, but I think a better word is…resource protection...or really just protecting property divisions, you know?"

"Hm. That war is brutal, or so I’m told. I saw on the news the other day, refugees, a small group, had broken into the enclosure of...what do you call it? Property divisions? Anyways, they broke in, mainly families, and were gunned down almost immediately. The men, women, kids. Dead, right there."

Paul is silent for a moment. Sophia looks at him through the mirror, Paul looking at her.

"I don’t...that's just how these things go.”

"Way of the world and all that?", Sophia replies.

Paul doesn’t respond.

Sophia stands up, walking to Paul and stopping in front of him. She pushes him down, Paul taking a sharp breath as he falls back on the bed. Sophia crawls on the bed, straddling Paul. Paul stares at Sophia, his breath fast and eyes wide.

"What's wrong?", she asks.

"N-nothing."

"Unzip my top."

"I-I don't think I want to."

"You’re in a sex club and you don’t want to unzip my top?"

"I-", Paul begins, his breath more frantic and chest heaving.

"My friends set this whole thing up."

Sophia stops moving, staring down at Paul.

"Why did you join the military?"

Paul shakes his head, sighing.

"I-I don't know."

"You signed yourself up for possible death, and don't know why?", Sophia says, chuckling.

"It's...a lot of my friends were, after graduation, and I guess I just kind of followed along."

Sophia observes Paul for a moment, Paul’s eyes turned away, lost.

"You don’t strike me as a follower."

"I am. And even if I wasn’t...there's nowhere to go."

Sophia stops again, placing her palm on Paul’s face, gently turning it towards her.

"I'm good with reading people, call it a perk of the job, and you‘re not a follower."

Paul looks at Sophia.

"Are you real?"

"Are you a virgin?", she retorts.

Paul goes silent, slightly taken aback.

"...does it matter?", he replies.

"To some, maybe. To others, no."

Sophia grabs Paul’s hands, guiding them to her chest and unzipping her top. She tosses the top to the floor, putting Paul’s hands on her breast.

"Are you one of those people who believe having sex with androids is a sin? For fornicating with a none-living being.”

"No”, replies Paul.

"Do you believe androids have souls?", she asks.

“No”, Paul replies. “I don’t think humans do either, though."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I just don’t. The way things are, it doesn’t make sense, you know? For there to be a God who made us, or something greater than this.”

”Hm."

"In a way", Paul says. "Androids have it better. They know who created them, and where they came from. The uncertainty, for humans I mean, it’s terrible. A coin toss between meaning and nothing, and-I’m sorry, but could you maybe get off of me?"

Sophia smiles, sliding off Paul and lying besides him. They lie in silence.

"Why do you do this?", Paul asks.

"What do you mean? For a job, obviously."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just...aren’t there other things to do?"

Sophia turns her head sideways, looking at Paul.

"...like what?"

Paul opens his mouth, beginning to say something, then closes it.

"Never mind."

"I like my job...I like connecting with people."

Paul laughs.

"You can't be serious."

"I am. I like the bond that can be formed with strangers. Lost people. People like you."

Paul laughs again.

I'm not sure most clients are like me."

"True."

Sophia sits up, her gaze lowering.

"I had a customer, a man, come in. One of my first. He was a lot like you, full of melancholy...drifting. He brought in a yellow dress, said it was his daughters, and asked me to put it on. He told me his daughter is dead, and he wants to enact a conversation he never got to have. Like a play. I put it on, then he hands me a band to tie my hair in a certain way. Afterwards, he gets down on his knees and begins to sob, grabbing my dress and telling me how sorry he is, and how much he hates life now. He's crying so hard now he can barely speak. He asks me if I forgive him, and I say yes. I don’t even know what for, or if I should, but in that moment I feel so bad for the man and just want him to stop. He says he doesn’t deserve it, and I say again that I forgive him. His crying eventually petered out and I brought him up and hugged him."

Paul is silent.

"...did you, I mean, did you guys-"

"Yes."

"That’s...kinda fucking weird. I'm kinda offended you compared me to him."

Sophia looks back at Paul, smiling. She caresses his face.

"You go to war tomorrow?"

Paul nods his head. Sophia leans down to kiss him, but Paul leans his face slightly away. Sophia leans back up.

"...my appearance, it's not to your liking, is it?"

"No, what? Your beautiful", Paul replies.

"You know that's not what I meant."

Paul opens his mouth, then closes it.

"Do they know? Your friends that set this up?"

Paul remains silent for a moment.

"No."

"So you are like him”, she says, rubbing Paul’s cheeks.

"Lost, lonely, and just looking for anyone to talk to."

Paul‘s eyes begin to water.

"I-I don't want to go."

"It’s okay”, Sophia says as Paul beings to cry.

Paul wipes his eyes, leaning up.

"I-"

"Your time is up."

"...what?”, Paul replies, confused.

Sophia points to the clock on the table.

"Your time, it’s up."

Paul looks at the clock, then back to Sophia, in disarray.

"Oh, um...okay. Should I go or-"

"Yes, the next client is waiting outside."

Paul wipes his snotty nose and tearing eyes, sniffing and getting up, as Sophia goes back to the table to get ready. Paul walks to the door, then turns around.

”I-"

Sophia is sitting at the table, her appearance completely changed. Pale skin, with blonde hair, as she puts on new makeup to complement her new skin tone.

"You're..."

"I never said I wasn’t."

Paul stands at the door, dejected. Sophia gets up, walking to him.

"I did, in all truth, enjoy this time with you, and our conversation. Come back from the war, Paul Aderman, so that we may have another."

She leans forward, kissing him on the cheek. She steps back, looking him in the eyes for a moment, then returns back to her table. Paul stands for a second, then opens the door and leaves.