The Primary Purpose

18Nov15

primary purpose“I want this one,” Maris said with a pout.

“That one is not properly conditioned yet,” Dr Manchester said dismissively.

Dr Manchester was her uncle of sorts, and one of the world’s foremost synthetic life engineers, although you would hardly know it from his clipped grey hair, or his smart business suit and clean-cut efficiency. Manchester was no fey boffin.

Maris pushed both lips out in a tight pout and looked forlornly at the synthetic. He was tanned, tall and broad like a sports model. If his eyes had of been open Maris would have bet that they were brown and not blue as with most synthesised people.

“Besides,” her uncle continued, “I would have thought you would have preferred a girl as your assistant,” he added pointedly.

“Oh why is that?” Maris asked innocently walking now like a skater on ice with her hands primly clasped into the small of her back.

“Because you will be bonded to whomever you chose for a very long time. The relationship will be a close one,” Manchester intoned pompously, “Besides, your mother will think you up to your old tricks with 18+ modifications.”

“Oh,” Maris sucked in her cheeks as if butter was cooling there and rolled her big blue eyes. “And can’t I get up to old tricks with a girl.”

Manchester glared at her sternly and let his eye linger on her ridiculously boyish short crop and the redundant white Alice-band complete with a bow. It was an affectation, he decided, and not a declaration of a liberated sexuality. She was teasing him.

“Anyway,” Maris was pouting again, “I thought these synthetics of yours were real people once they were ‘conditioned,’” Manchester hated the term programmed in this context, “And couldn’t be altered with modifications.”

“I am glad you realise that, and that’s why I want you chose carefully,” Manchester said sharply, “Now come and look at this one. She speaks 17 languages with an inherent ability to learn new ones, including I might add machine code. Her pre conditioned Primary Purpose is as a companion/technical PA and management coordinator.”

“Hmmm,” Maris replied as she examined the cute Afro-Oriental creature gazing at her wistfully.

“But remember, she is a person with her own character and ambitions. Inherently disposed to serve, but…”

“With a will of her own, yes I know,” Maris rolled her eyes.

“She will bond with you for life and in her own inimical style pursue your interests on your behalf,” Manchester said proudly. “Think of her as a cousin.”

Maris was impressed, but having such a beauty around might backfire when it came to dating. Not that she was that interested in men at the moment, but as her uncle had said, this arrangement was for life.

“Can’t I have an unconditioned one and define the Primary Purpose myself?” she asked sullenly.

Manchester studied his adopted niece thoughtfully. At 25 she was still so immature and reckless. Maybe she wasn’t ready for a synthetic at all.

“Maris, you know perfectly well that conditioning is a skilled job and requires intense concentration over several weeks to consolidate it properly. We assign trained teams to do it,” Manchester said emphatically.

“What about sex?” Maris blurted.

Manchester startled and looked at her with something like horror. “What?”

“You said that my synth will be a companion and with me for life.” She shrugged and added shyly, “So I was wondering…”

“Oh I thought you would be happy with a girl,” her uncle teased, lightening up a little.

It wasn’t unknown, Maris thought, but he would be shocked to hear that. But she was thinking about months away on missions, sometimes in very small teams to some very remote places. It would be fun to try it, in any case.

Manchester smiled indulgently. “Listen, I’ll leave you with our friend, I can even wake her up. There is a spec on the table and you can run a compatibility analysis.”

Maris nodded thoughtfully and shrugged as she watched Dr Manchester leave the lab.

No sooner had he gone than Maris grinned and nibbled mischievously at her lower lip. Then with a rub of her hands she crept back to where she had seen the first male synthetic for a closer look. There was no real harm to be done, she thought.

Standing in front of him she barely came up to his chest. Imagine having a hunk like this around for the next 60 years. She smirked.

“Hey pretty boy,” she said breathily, “Are you awake?”

The expression on the man’s face barely changed but for a moment Maris thought she saw some movement there. She punched him firmly in the stomach to test his six-pack, not that she could see it. All the synths wore functional two piece grey coveralls.

“I guess not,” she muttered with a hint of wistful regret.

She was about to turn away and look at the girl and the specifications her uncle had laid out when the man cocked his head and then opened his eyes. They were deep metallic piercing blur. Maris gasped.

“I am not a boy,” the man said in a firm baritone.

“I can see that,” a wide-eyed Maris breathed. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I am standing up,” the man said in a puzzled voice and frowned.

“Yes but… she shook her head and shrugged, “You waiting for something?”

“I am waiting to be assigned,” he said casually and began to look around at the laboratory as if he had never seen it before, “My conditioning is almost complete, it merely needs completing and a final catalyst.”

“Well I am looking for a new… assistant, my uncle thought… that is I was wondering if you would be available.” Maris let the suggestion land gently.

“I am not yet resolved to a Primary Purpose,” the man said as if he had explained every truth in the world.

“Yes but you must be able to do something?” Maris pressed him.

“I can do many things, I have a basic skill set that includes: being a pilot, an engineer, expertise in development software, several languages, and I have the equivalent knowledge of degrees in philosophy, history, astro-geography…” he told her before taking a breath to wonder if he was being boring or irrelevant now: social skills also being part of his conditioning.

“Yes, so what’s the problem?” Maris took a step nearer and began picking at a stray strand on his coverall jacket. “And what’s your name?”

He had never been asked that before. “Adam,” he said, liking the sound of the name on his lips.

Neither of them realised that Adam was the default male name for a Synthetic who hadn’t completed conditioning.

“Adam what pretty boy?” she teased.

“Please don’t call me that,” he said sharply. His nascent social protocols were fast developing and something told him that he was being insulted.

“Why? What are you going to do about it? You don’t even have a last name.” Maris was enjoying this; the man was developing before her very eyes.

Adam frowned and drew upon his preconditioned knowledge of popular culture and literature. Previously, though he scarce remembered now, 500 ideas would juggle for prominence and consideration, but the more he formed into a true man the less such direct synthetic avenues were open to him.

“What do you want from me?” Adam asked her thoughtfully.

Maris stood closer now and pressed her forehead against his chest and then looked up conspiratorially.

“I need a companion and assistant to help me,” she said teasingly as if there was a joke she wasn’t sharing. “I travel off-world a lot and I need someone to keep me focussed,” she added, this time she was speaking from the heart as if she hadn’t really considered it before.

“Do you need some sort of guide?” he asked, still pondering her words.

Maris frowned and wondered what he was getting at. “I don’t know exactly,” she answered.

“It sounds like you do then,” he said.

“Now look here pretty boy,” she snapped and shoved him.

“I told you not to call me that,” he said, now sounding like her uncle when he was mad at her.

He could still feel her fists where she had impotently shoved him and considered appropriate responses to match them with her stated needs.

“Well you don’t have a name apparently, except for Adam and I hardly know you,” she shot back.

“Pranay, Adam Pranay,” he said, having discounted Cesar, Llewelyn and Hadi, although he barely knew it now, for in that moment Pranay had always been his name and he was truly born.

“Well alright,” Maris replied in a careful puzzled voice, “It has been nice talking to you but I think I have to go now.” She smiled nervously as she pointed back to the other side of the laboratory that Dr Manchester had first suggested.

The thing that had made her the most nervous was that she had noticed Adam’s eyes had changed. Instead of the cold blue he now had deep warm brown eyes that seemed to drill into her as if seeing all her secrets.

“But we have so much to discuss.” Adam’s voice was firm.

“Look about the pretty boy thing, let’s forget it I was just funning you and besides I really have to go now…” Maris babbled.

Adam regarded her with stern paternalism and folded his arms. His synthetic memory was entirely natural now, so he had no inkling that he had just scanned 100,000 fitting cultural references and he would never do so again in that way. But some had stuck with him, triggered by Maris’s demeanour and the interaction between them.

“Before you brief me on our next project I think we have a small matter to discuss.” His words were as steel on stone. “I think we need to start as we mean to go on.”

“Start? Go on?” Maris gulped, all her senses warned her something had changed, “I haven’t made any decision yet about…”

“Oh I think I know you have you little brat,” Adam warned, “and I am going to put you across my knee for a good sound spanking on your bare bottom.”

Maris’s jaw dropped and her tummy tightened. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said unconvincingly.

Adam Pranay was no superman, but he was physically and mentally as effective as it was possible for mortal man to be and furthermore he now knew his primary purpose. Maris was in need of firm guidance and focus, she had told him so herself.

Maris bolted, but too late. Adam took three easy strides forward and took her by the arm to lift her clear of the floor. She was no burden as he threw her over his shoulder and made for an armless chair set against the wall.

“Put me down you ape,” she yelled.

“That’s no way to speak to your executive assistant and personal mentor,” Adam chuckled, sounding more naturally human every moment.

As he sat down Maris fell easily across his lap and it was no effort for him to quickly shuck down her pants to bare her bottom.

“What are you doing?” she squealed.

“I am doing this,” he told her, this being a hard swat to her bare bottom.

The spank had a tang to it and she gasped. No less so when he spanked her again and once more in less than a few seconds.

“You can’t do this,” she yelped.

“It appears that I can,” Adam replied redoubling the pace and adding half a score of spanks in a firm volley.

“Adam,” she shrieked, “Mr Pranay… please, let’s talk about this.”

“I prefer to let my hands do the talking,” he laughed as he continued with Maris’s first spanking in a very long time.

“Oh please,” she wailed, her words now sounding damp under the onslaught; bottom and pride now competing for the hurt.

“Make your mind up to it, you are going to get a good long spanking and there is nothing you can do about. The first of many I shouldn’t wonder. We have many decades ahead of us,” he told her firmly.

“But, but, but…” she panted as she tried to ride the sting.

Adam found a strange satisfaction spanking Maris’s pert tight bottom, which was now like two red hot berries under his punishing hand. This was exactly what they both needed to get the relationship off to a good start.

“I get it, I’ll be good, no more smart mouth okay,” Maris sobbed, “You’ve got the job alright, you win.”

“It is not a job Maris it is a vocation, my primary purpose. There is no point cutting this spanking short, it will only bring nearer our next such encounter,” Adam explained his hand continuing its unrelenting fiery work.

“You don’t think… this is a one-time deal you bastard,” Maris exclaimed, “You can’t mean…”

“Oh dear, it looks like we have quite a trial ahead of us,” Adam sighed as he spanked on.

“I’m sorry okay, please,” she wailed, “No more, no more…”

“Listen my little one, I decide when you’re spanked and I decide when it stops, do you understand?” he scolded.

“Yes Sir,” Maris boo-hooed, “But I have learned my lesson.”

“This time maybe, and next time…?”

“You’ll spank me?” she sobbingly conceded.

“Now that that is clear you can go and stand in the corner…” he said setting her down, and then looking around the lab he amended, “well you can face the wall anyway.”

Maris gaped as she wept and rubbed her blazing behind. But one glare form Adam sent her scurrying to obey. Once there she struggled to gain her breath as confused and miserable she tried to find it in her to protest. This was so embarrassing.

“What on earth is going on here?” Dr Manchester asked as he rushed all anguished and flustered into the room.

“He spanked me,” Maris sobbed from her place facing the wall.

Her uncle eyed her red sore bottom and then relaxed as something of a smile broke through his frown.

“This unit was an expensive model earmarked for other work,” he sighed.

“My name is Adam Pranay,” Adam said sharply.

“Oh forgive me Mr Pranay, yes,” Dr Manchester agreed placatingly. “Is there any problem?”

“No problem at all, Maris and I have just been getting acquainted,” Adam told him.

“So I see, I guess a choice has been made then,” he said ruefully, “I think Maris and I will be getting acquainted again too when you’re done with her,” he added.

“But Uncle,” Maris gasped, still not daring to move although she was mortified that Dr Manchester could see her bare bottom, “I am supposed to be in charge,” she protested.

“You are supposed to be a team player in a symbiotic professional relationship. Usually the natural person takes the lead yes, but I think in this case that partnership will be complicated to say the very least. Why didn’t you accept the personality I chose for you?” His tone was exasperated now.

“I don’t know,” Maris wailed, fresh tears springing to her eyes, “Can’t I change my mind?” she wept.

Adam looked at Manchester sharply and folded his arms expectantly.

Dr Manchester shook his head and shrugged. “You know that you can’t; besides I see now that that is for the best.”

“I will take good care of her and I will serve her well,” Adam said confidently. “That is my primary purpose.”

“Are your methods too part of your primary purpose?” Manchester chuckled.

“My methods…? I haven’t done anything inappropriate, indeed I am incapable of doing so,” Adam said indignantly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Manchester snorted, “And about time too. As I said when you’re done with her Maris and I will be having a little talk of our own.”

“Oh uncle you haven’t… not since I was in college…” Maris blurted, mortified by even that admission.

“Then it is about time,” her uncle growled. “Oh and Adam, don’t be so sure you are infallible. You are one of us now. In a year it will be difficult to tell you apart from a natural.”

Adam nodded thoughtfully and then excused himself. It was time to read the project spec for Maris’s next job. But as he crossed the room he paused. “Dr Manchester, I will keep her facing the wall for an hour to consider her behaviour. Then I will dismiss her and send her to you for your little ‘talk.’”

Maris gave a horrified gape and whirled on her uncle to protest.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, “You have caused me enough trouble today. I’ll deal with you later.”



4 Responses to “The Primary Purpose”

  1. Such a cute story! I think Maris is a loveable brat 🙂

  2. 3 Ripley

    You are so ingenious. I don’t know how you come up with this stuff. Poor Maris got what she didn’t know she wanted, or did she? Thanks.


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