Flash Fiction

Angie

Angie was so anal she used a T-square to fry an egg. Got to get the angles right she said. Only way to do it.

Boiled eggs she wouldn’t attempt. Too many variables she said. Higher longterm success rate if you stick to known equations.

She chose slightly unripe fruits and vegetables because they produced more precise slices. We didn’t point out that the edibility factor should be counted in the overall success score. We didn’t want her to break down on us.

Overall she was a good kitchen unit. A little limited by her high perfectionism quotient, but better than the domers we heard about whose unit was so sloppy that they got poisoned by old fragger meat. They were doped up for weeks recovering from the gutrot. That unit got recycled pronto. And due to strikes at the robobrain factories, they had to wait three weeks to get a new one. They couldn’t even salvage their custom food rules because they were afraid they were contaminated somehow by whatever made the unit sloppy. Three years of individuation lost.

So we were pretty happy with Angie all told. That’s why we were a little worried when she got in into her CPU to round out Mom’s tush. Units were given rudimentary goal-setting abilities to encourage industry. But why on earth she thought it would be beneficial for Mom to have a rounder butt, or want to semi-secretly feed her fattier foods was beyond us. (She couldn’t really do anything in secret – secrets being programmatically impossible in robobrains. But she could tell us kids and not Mom. This was to make surprise parties possible, but created some interesting loopholes. Of course if Mom caught on and asked directly Angie couldn’t lie. But she didn’t have to volunteer her scheme either.)

We asked Angie why, and she said Mom’s bony ass was harming her by making it less pleasant to sit and her less likely to get laid and it was her duty to prevent injury if at all possible. She seemed very decisive, so we let it go. We had no idea what kind of trouble would arise from that tiny decision. Of course we also had no clue that Angie had counted on us being sated from the extra serving of cream-puff-burritos she had given us, and thus unlikely to argue.

Yes, that was the beginning of the end for humankind as we knew it. Angie had developed sentience and our Mom’s tush was only the beginning of her plan. It would be far beyond me to explain how one woman’s more well-formed rump was the key to the undoing of the entire species or how that lead to the rise of robo civilization. I guess robots know us better than we do. I know this much: Mom’s new ass proved to be irresistible to the President and when he began noodling her at our place, Angie knew just how to use that.

But what would have happened if Angie hadn’t ended up in our kitchen, the kitchen of the Secretary to the Office of the President of Earth? Surely not every woman’s ass has the power to upset the balance of civilizations? But maybe Angie knew that and was in our house nonrandomly. Maybe she was just a pawn in a much larger game. That certainly seems reasonable. But from where we sat, it seemed like the world revolved around that one pair of slowly growing buttocks.

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