My Life As An Adult Teenager At A Robot Science Fare

Or a flash fiction about subverted teen wish fullfillment.

The skyline was paved with Smyrna roads, and pyramids double the size of the tallest Trump tower. Binary raining down from the sky in Neon Lime and Purple. Where the old Native America lands were, where I could repent for modernization, I could dump all my modern technology in my back yard, and run away from home and become part of my Cherokee tribe. This had always been my dream. Instead I’m left wondering why I live in this new city, now renamed merely a subdivision of NashChat.

I simply wanted a robot girlfriend.

Smyrna wasn’t quite the same suburban neighborhood, by the time my sister invented age reversion therapy. By the time I turned thirty two, I had completed complete gender transition, and considered getting a degree as a computer science engineer. When I was visit my old town, I’d note how much it had grown into something closer to a city over the last decade, leaving to wonder if I accidentally stepped into a time machine, and didn’t realize it. This was the story of an age reversion I thought was interesting at the time, and I suppose for the most part only left me reliving my high school years, in a much cheerier contextaroo.

I visited her one night, while she discussed some of the underlying issues of being able to make oneself look sixteen again.

-- So, are you telling me? In theory mom and dad could make me look like a high school junior again? I asked, if you heard it, I’m not sure that you would believe it either. At the time I thought even the idea of aliens landing on my backyard was closer to the truth. -- But what if people really think I’m actually sixteen?

-- You can tolerate a few swats right?

-- What do you mean by that?

-- Well your face would finally match your maturity, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind putting back in high school classes for the rest of the century.

Even as a teenager, I had dreamed of having immortality. Even if it wasn’t quite in this context. I especially didn’t want to go back to high school in my old suburban playground. Although it was matter than going back to being educated in Blackman High School. But the first few weeks after my therapy, my dream of secondary education was replaced with the genuine terror that I was legitimately being sent back to high school. While it wasn’t quite someone’s execution, in my mind it didn’t feel much different.

But this was better than being an artificial Toddler, learning the beginnings of Lojban and sign language. And the few first month past by as if the school didn’t really know my age. Technically you could say this was fraud, but I never had much of a voice in the family anyway. But at night I still listened to the flow of Japanese Flamenco, rendered from different Latin American countries. As my dreams faded to black.

The next morning, I was sent to the principles office, and all the staff was there to give me wild applause. I would have thought it was because I managed to fool them about my age.

-- We’ve been watching your grades rise over the school year. It’s all thanks to this science project you’ve been working on. Who knew that the formula for Artificial General Intelligence, was AGI = K^C. We’ve be producing robot high school girls in no time, at light speed.

I wasn’t quite sure why the Principle wanted to do that.

But sometimes life could be like that, flowing meaningless down Purgatory as if it were a river of flames. And ones old wish turned against you, as your mind give up some of your old desires. Only to be able to have your desires congratulated for you at the speed of an executioner’s ax. As she dreams of themselves climbing up at stair case, being tied to a board, lowered, and beheaded.

Instead I was back in my old body, and I called my sister up to ask why the age reversion therapy wore out.

-- Are you smoking pot again?

-- That’s not how pot works OK!

-- By the way, how’s your robot project going?

I looked at my desk, and upon is was my science fare reward, and on the side was my on non software programmed robot girl, with Chia Pet grown hair. -- It’s going, she’s right at my desk.

-- Cool I’d like to see.

I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, or if in fact I had already been back to high school, and it simply flowed so quickly, while I dreamed of girls with flowers in their hair, and soft guitar playing. While I could focus my life on my real desires again.

My cybernetic pixie dream girl.

Flowing like old tap dance.