The Diary of a Robot Sex Educator

As usual, the alarm clocks nagging beep startled Bob Hoskins out of a deep and fulfilling sleep. It was four o’clock on a Saturday morning and time for him to get ready for work. This was a tough job: two hours sleep a night, seven days a week; God only knows how Bob managed to survive for six straight months without quitting or going insane.

Thirty minutes later, Bob was walking through the front doors of his work place. “Good morning Doctor Hoskins!” called a beautiful front desk receptionist as he walked in a trance-like state across the immaculate, gleaming marble floors of the foyer, oblivious to those he passed.

After a maze of corridors, he eventually arrived at a set of double doors bearing the sign, ‘Artificial Intelligence Training’. He paused outside the doors and sighed. As he stepped forward to open the doors, they slid open while hidden hydraulics announced their presence in the background. A pale faced, bleary eyed co-worker stepped out into the hallway, shoulders still hunched, he pulled a hand up to wave to Bob, Bob ignored him and walked through the doors.

It was another corridor, this time it was narrower and a parade of doors tiled the length of its tall walls. Muffled screams and moaning could be heard from each room. He reached a door with his name on it and swiped his entry card across a narrow slot, he grinned every time he did this as if he shared a secret joke with the security device.

A strong stale musty smell escaped when the door opened. “Good morning Doctor Bob!” said a female voice alerted to his presence from a metal container in the corner of the room as Bob hung his coat on the rack.

“One day to train a toaster oven, a month for a refrigerator, six months for a car, and a year to train an artificial intelligence sex bot!” he uttered, “good morning Elsi! – I hope you have been doing your homework.”

Bob strode over to the metal cabinet and lifted its lid open. Inside, was a plastic cube, no bigger than a pint glass, with rounded edges, flashing lights and the words ‘iFuck’ emblazoned across its surface besides the Apple logo. He placed it on a nearby desk and mechanically pulled his trouser zip down. His expression was one of aloofness as he gazed beyond the confines of the tiny room while he fumbled his manhood into the latest compact fashion accessory to hit the streets.