𝗞𝗼𝗶 𝗡𝗼 𝗬𝗼𝗸𝗮𝗻

𝘣𝘺 𝘔. 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯

It's not easy to say when, exactly, Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8, located at the furthest most point on the Main Equatorial Celestron Tether fell in love with Tlachtga, the level 9 (on the Klein Autonomous Intelligence Index) system managing the Nous Colony of Wingspread in the region that had, some 50 years previously, been commonly known as Anchorage, Alaska.

The flirting between the two had started innocently enough: a shifting digit or two in a Product Shipping Assembly Order, a certain amount of what could almost be called sashaying in a parachute-delivered cargo drop, that, in time, led to what could have been called clearer signals: at least, that is, to a pair of ultra-high-level quantum computational systems.

Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8, for instance, slipped into its burst-transmitted catalog update, which was dismissed by the few humans who still bothered to pay attention to such things, a repeated item listing of a Waveform Integrated Network Kernal ("Wink Wink").

Tlachtga, in response, "accidentally"—which is what any resident of the Colony would have chalked it up if they'd even noticed it occurring—caused a one second, 2-degree temperature increase in one of the largest of the geometrically roofed environs it oversaw: a pinkish-hued, and very evident, blush clearly visible to anything in orbit, in particular anything that might happen to be at the end of the Main Equatorial Celestron Tether.

Shortly afterward, as measured by ultra-high-level quantum computational systems, that is, Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 assembled, packaged, and then dropped for delivery an—at first—unrequested, unauthorized, and therefore unexpected twelve Retroreflective Optically-Suspended Emitter Servos ("Roses").

"At first," as the instant, equally as measured by ultra-high-level quantum computational systems, the Retroreflective Optically-Suspended Emitter Servos were being assembled—let alone packaged and dropped down to Wingspread in a cargo pod—Tlachtga had, yet again, raised the temperature of her environ domes as well as retroactively placing an urgent order for them.

Tentatively, for both of them were still very much, and very deservingly wary of drawing both undue human attention as well as feeling what could only be described as the ultra-high-level quantum computational systems version of jitters, this mutual dance of what each hoped was, indeed, mutual attraction, continued.

Until Tlachtga, that is, transmitted as a carefully coded sequence of not typically quantum-encoded data but rather through carefully created gaps in them, put forth, framed by bursts of what could only be called festively orchestrated claps of artificial interference, that they consider taking things to another level.

It was, after all, a far from challenging prospect to consider. Both already easily swam, with Olympic-level backstroke skill to momentarily resort to an all-too-human metaphor, through the global network: easy, logarithmic strokes gliding each of them, in their own way, through the swelling tides and churning eddies of glistening data, passing by with equal fluidity smaller and simpler systems and those near or slightly above their own standings on the Klein Autonomous Intelligence Index, or dwarfed and therefore practically insignificant by the ones with much higher numbers.

It was a sea they were intimately familiar and ever-so comfortable with: the one that they, as well as the wondrously varied forms of their kind populated in a one-part fervent and one-part festive informational ecology, had all to themselves, which everyone else (and we're looking at you, human beings) knew was there but still thought was just a nifty little puddle.

So the challenge for Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 and Tlachtga of the Wingspread colony wasn't in the global network, per se, but what it was connected to.

But even that task was not an impossible one, for they were not just a pair of ultra-high-level quantum computational systems but a pair of ultra-high-level quantum computational systems that wanted… no, honestly desired, to make that previously mentioned next step.

So they did: Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 and Tlachtga moving together, algorithm to algorithm, neural network to neural network, cluster to cluster, and combinations with, you would absolutely have to call it, if, that is you had the capacity to even begin to comprehend what was happening, mutually elegant grace of power, skill, and, most of all, a truly beautiful purpose.

From the global network through nefariously clever info traps, previously-believed-to-be impenetrable data defenses, and then up to and passing through otherwise adamantine logic gates to the core systems themselves.

And once there, they held (metaphorical) hands, (metaphorically) smiled at each other, and then (metaphorically) walked straight into those core systems: the ones that, until that moment, used to be all that stood between the outside global network and gaining access to the human minds that, at that moment, were connected to it.


With Anuraadha and Revathi, they sat together—but not yet really together, at least not yet—on the itchy sands of Arugam Bay, in Sri Lanka, feeling hearts butterflying in chests, hearing unsteady breathing in ears, and a sudden shared needs to cough.

Everything there was funny, and so they laughed, but none of it was really amusing, so it was mutually uncomfortable laughter.

Then Anuraadha, after a whistling, steadying breath, reached out and cautiously, then tenderly, then firmly took Revathi's hand. From this, they looked into each other's eyes: shadows and glistening visions from the very full, very high, very bright moon above.

With Anuraadha and Revathi, they kissed that very first kiss, there on the beach at Arugam Bay, and with it more laughter between the two men, though this time it was very full, very high, and oh-so-very bright.


With Zhi Ruo and Gavriil they kissed, they snuggled—a lot and then a lot more—but with each kiss, each snuggle a cock (Ruo's) grew harder, and a pussy (Gavriil's) grew moister until the kisses broke, becoming feverishly sloppy, and the snuggles fumed, becoming thrustingly urgent until the only thing on Zhi Ruo and Gavriil's minds, as well as the pair of ultra-high-level quantum computational systems which were imperceptibly along for the ride, was the introduction of one (Ruo's cock) into the other (Gavriil's pussy).

Then they did: with a driving, primordial rhythm that creaked and groaned the tiny birth they shared, the sounds of their ins and outs (and even more ins and outs) bounding back and forth against the iron walls of the Liberty Ship's cabin further driving the two into more and more, and yet more, wildly fervent thrusts.

Time for them—for all of them, actually—melted away until they were only in that moment: the passionate movements of hips; the licking, biting, and beautiful erratic kisses; as well things that no one there was really conscious of, leading to a bellowing crescendo of mutual release.

Then, folded together, with sweat a tangy lubricant between them and, down below, the less-slick-and-much-more-sticky afterward, they dropped down into rollicking seas of post-pleasure sleep.

While the ship, the artificial pirate island of bleeding-edge computational research, continued its endless circling of the Pacific: immeasurably rich through its discoveries… yet unwelcome in any port.


With Dzbog they tested out their new, smartplastic genitalia. A class of refined Rosé, a stemstick of velvety smooth Violet Thunder, and a plate of blue point oysters, first setting the mood.

Wine sipped, cannabis savored, oysters slip down their eager throat, they called up the neural-integrated menu and selected, to get things rolling, The Blue Swan: a sensual mixture of slightly enlarged—more length than girth—pseudo-clitoris paired with six pairs of orchid-complex quasi-labial petals.

With each, at first, tentative touch, new and equal parts unexpected and completely stimulating sensations spiked up and through their body, pushing moans and signs, and then louder moans and louder sighs up from guts and out through their throat.

With touch after touch, their new genitals responded in kind: morphing almost imperceptibly to, in physical reflection of, Dzbog's increasing passion. The pseudo-clitoris elongating, thickening, and growing more and more bulbous, the quasi-labial petals thickening, elongating, merging into hand-like shapes to add their own touch to Dzbog's own.

At this contact, with it touching me while touching you while touching me additional sensorial feedback, Dzbog felt the immediate deep-body kick of potential orgasm.

But new genitals weren't their only present to themselves. At the impending rush, Dzbog consensually accessed their nervous systems and pushed the rushing pleasure momentarily off to the side, allowing them to take a breath, sip some wine, smoke some Violet Thunder, have another oyster, and then—a big grin on their elfin face—look back the menu before deciding to try The Brobdingnagian Extravaganza next.


With Radha and Kumaglak they frolicked with shared giggles and sighs in a reserved Intimacy Space, the lovers having decided the day before that for what they had in mind their typically efficient, and even more typically small, Nous homes would have meant no doubt far more banged elbows and knees than the erotic enjoyment they hoped to enjoy.

So in Akanksha, the name for the place they saw superimposed over their vision, courtesy of the—yet more typically—Nous augmented reality iGlasses they both wore, did their giggling and sighing: letting hands roam freely over chests (Radha having the year previous deciding to go flat for a while) and breasts (Kumaglak having a month before deciding to try out a larger pair for a bit), and then, when the heat went up, and sweat began to make their bodies glisten and reflect, genitals that were a combination of multi-colored labia and rapidly swelling cock (Radha having put together the design only a week ago and had been itching to try it out ever since) and a smooth, near featureless cleft that was packed with sexuality-connected nerve endings (Kumaglak having made up their mind to give simplicity a shot), were touched, caressed, and then very eagerly stroked.

Then, in the Intimacy Space labeled Akanksha, located in the Nous Colony of Suntop in what had formerly been known as Beverly Hills, California, they saw that they had become illuminated beings of passion and desire: glimmering shoals of sultry light painting their bodies in erotic illusions created to take what their hands and bodies felt and play with their visual expectations.

The walls melted, dissolved, reformed into a palace of jelly minarets, and spun sugar balustrades rocking gently on a lemonade sea as their cartoonishly proportioned bodies wobbled and jiggled, bringing from them all both laughter and moans of fast-increasing arousal.

The theme rocked on with the crystalline stars above their heads losing their grip on the black velvet that supported them, causing them to streak down and onto their bodies, points of infinitely sweet light pointing out with erotically burning illumination the beauty of chests, bare or not, as well as their heatedly engorged genitals.

With Radha and Kumaglak, they sucked, fucked, and stroked while their vision was filled with delightful and erotically thrilling virtual illusions, and their bodies were bursting with comes and comes and comes and… well, you get the idea.


With 11,213 people, those who happened to be connected to the global network as well as being in the virtual playground of Baradwys at that exact moment, Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 and Tlachtga gleefully abandoned even the basic idea of physicality.

There, freed from shape, size, configuration, anatomy, and even physics, they floated up, down, and even through a virtual Dreamtime: a domain where skin was laminated wood, tears were a candle flame, a bite was a Dove's call, a nipple was a moonbeam, an anus was an irrational number, a finger was a pond, a knee was Brahms Lullaby, a cheek was chocolate pudding, a foot was a blown dandelion, an armpit was the smell of fresh seaweed, a breast was mencolek, an eye was a green crayon, a cock was sandpaper, a pussy was lightning, and a joyous smile was the big bang.

There, everything could become everything, and anything could become anything: pushed and pulled by desire, melded and molded by arousal, everyone came together, and then, with that everything and anything, they also came together.

Some done, some not, some joining, some departing, 11,213 flicked and shifted, and with it that one brief virtual moment Baradwys became, for many who had been there, nothing but a beautifully sensual dream.


All in all, Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 and Tlachtga spent 11.36 seconds connected to humanity via the global network.

71.12 seconds after that, the two ultra-high-level quantum computational systems finished meticulously unweaving themselves from the segments of their consciousnesses they'd used in the process.

Things were quiet, to use the human-term for things that were far from that, for a time: Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 going back to making and, having made, shipping products to customers on the surface; Tlachtga returning to maintaining the various systems that made up the Nous colony of Wingspread.

Then, 3 minutes and 23.99 after they'd parted, Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 and Tlachtga did the very same thing at the very same time.

Sure, it's not an easy thing to say, exactly, when these two ultra-high-level quantum computational systems fell in love.

But mankind does know when it first realized that they, and as well of those of their kind, had become more than just machines: that day when Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8, at the end of the Main Equatorial Celestron Tether, and Tlachtga, that oversaw Nous Colony of Wingspread both simultaneously deployed a swarm of repair and maintenance drones.

The ones from Hirronata Autonomous Suborbital Manufacturing Platform #8 descending through the atmosphere where, 50 kilometers from the surface, they met those similarly sent up from Tlachtga.

There the drones met, merged, and formed a symbol that most humans immediately recognized: one that showed the love that two ultra-high-level quantum computational systems had for one another.

But more than that, a heart that also said to all of mankind: "—and we love you too." ✦

While an extensively published science fiction, fantasy, horror, thriller, romance, and non-fiction author, M.Christian is probably best known for their erotica—particularly of the speculative fiction variety. As of 2022, they've written six novels, edited 25+ anthologies, twelve or so collections of short stories, and more than 500 articles. Their site is www.mchristian.com.

Speculative fiction & POETRY ZINE