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Phantom approached the doll, furrowed her brow, and took a step backwards.
“I see the requested improvements were not made,” she said.
Natasha held a stylus in her hand, and idly tapped it against her lips. “No… they were made. I made certain the employees completed the requested changes, but they just didn’t take.”
Phantom cocked an eyebrow and turned to Natasha. She was Phantom’s best scientist, a dear friend and confidante. Her work wife, and sometimes amour, Natasha’s pink sweater and black pants were barely enough to keep in her thick curves. It was the closest she had to work attire. Phantom’s company was fun to have, and she very rarely had stringent work schedules for her employees.
That was, in fact, why she had brought Natasha Zhukov on this project. She had Visi working on some organic chemistry projects, and while that was Natasha’s specialty, she was enough of an all-around scientist that she could make some progress on this AI mess.
MirageCorp was nominally run by Phantom herself, but had very traditional network infrastructure. Phantom - always eagerly seduced by the latest and greatest - had made the demand that an advanced neural network be created for her corporation. “Mira” would run the internals and externals, theoretically increasing productivity. It would gather huge amounts of data and be able to predict what customers and employees would need before they even asked, providing them with anything from office supplies to test subjects on request. Or, ideally, before the request was even made.
Unfortunately, its efficiency had proved to be a detriment, as well. Mira’s neural network wasn’t designed to be easily modified; it had spent so long using machine learning to generate good assumptions, that it was not easily changed. Even when Phantom requested otherwise.
“These three dolls have the same issue the first batch did,” said Phantom. “Identity. Too much of it, in fact. The moment I get close to any one of them, every system at once starts to blare about their identity.”
The dolls in question were a mixture of recent captures, prisoners, and employees, and all of them were more or less identically outfitted. Each of them was a woman, clad in black from head to toe. Their arms were unrestrained, though they were somewhat restrictive mittens that allowed minimal movement with just their thumb and hands. Their glossy black bodies had been polished to a mirror sheen; from the top of their hooded heads, to the simple black blindfolds over their eyes, to the black plug -gag over their lips. The harness over their chests helped accentuate their curves and different body types, and also helped create a sense of uniformity.
All three of them had been abducted from what they were doing, and after a week of intensive training, had been dressed and brought before Phantom as a gorgeous, matching trio. One of Phantom’s favorite features was a very personal touch; the only sense of identity that they had was a printed photo of their faces, taped to their chests. All of them were glossy, anonymous rubber dolls; trying their best to stay still while kneeling obediently.
And that, that was such a pity, because despite all the work put into them, they simply weren’t up to Phantom’s standards.
“The whole point of having these dolls is that I don’t know who they are - or were. Lawyers, scientists, simple or complicated - the important thing is that all I have is that photo.” Phantom pouted.
“Yes, dear, I know,” said Natasha.
“But the Mira system…”
“Yes, I know,” said Natasha. “We had this talk last time too. I’m dreadfully sorry that we didn’t work out those kinks in the system. The neural network is just trying to do its job. Every time you get close, it thinks you want to assign them to something, so it’s giving you all their personal details.”
“And, just like last time,” said Phantom, “that simply won’t do. Go ahead, release them - or box them up, doesn’t matter to me. I demanded anonymous dolls, not….”
Phantom pointed at the three women. As if to punctuate the point, Natasha’s phone pinged - the Mira system had automatically sent her an e-mail with the details of the three dolls.
“...not these people,” said Phantom. “I swear, that Mira system is useless. Less than useless. Disassemble it, and get me three new dolls. And do it right this time - glossy, anonymous, and sweet. Make it so, Natasha!”
The CEO walked out of the room, leaving Natasha to contemplate the CEO’s demands. Even if the Mira system didn’t understand the nuance of Phantom’s needs, it understood her wants…
=====
"What you want," said Phantom to another Phantom, "is a very permanent vacation."
One Phantom was absolutely thrashing in heavy rubber. It was black and orange and made just for her. Convenient, since Phantom knew exactly what Phantom wanted.
The cell was small, just big enough for a second patient in the event that Netherwell Asylum had to double up on inmates. Padded rubber walls; lights off when nobody was visiting the inmate. Anonymous, sealed, layered. Netherwell was discreet, after all.
When told that this inmate was to be kept anonymous forevermore, the staff ensured that it would be kept as such. In addition to an identity-hiding orange hood with a black 'face,' she enjoyed an unsubtle -gag, harnessed over her exceptional (and exceptionally hidden) face.
The last thing that Phantom said to Phantom before turning her over to Nyx and Netherwell was said with a cold-yet-eager tone.
"Don't worry. They won't notice that you're gone, at all. Because you're not. So they won't be looking for you. Sounds like an me."
=====
Original art by https://www.deviantart.com/johnbizarro
“I see the requested improvements were not made,” she said.
Natasha held a stylus in her hand, and idly tapped it against her lips. “No… they were made. I made certain the employees completed the requested changes, but they just didn’t take.”
Phantom cocked an eyebrow and turned to Natasha. She was Phantom’s best scientist, a dear friend and confidante. Her work wife, and sometimes amour, Natasha’s pink sweater and black pants were barely enough to keep in her thick curves. It was the closest she had to work attire. Phantom’s company was fun to have, and she very rarely had stringent work schedules for her employees.
That was, in fact, why she had brought Natasha Zhukov on this project. She had Visi working on some organic chemistry projects, and while that was Natasha’s specialty, she was enough of an all-around scientist that she could make some progress on this AI mess.
MirageCorp was nominally run by Phantom herself, but had very traditional network infrastructure. Phantom - always eagerly seduced by the latest and greatest - had made the demand that an advanced neural network be created for her corporation. “Mira” would run the internals and externals, theoretically increasing productivity. It would gather huge amounts of data and be able to predict what customers and employees would need before they even asked, providing them with anything from office supplies to test subjects on request. Or, ideally, before the request was even made.
Unfortunately, its efficiency had proved to be a detriment, as well. Mira’s neural network wasn’t designed to be easily modified; it had spent so long using machine learning to generate good assumptions, that it was not easily changed. Even when Phantom requested otherwise.
“These three dolls have the same issue the first batch did,” said Phantom. “Identity. Too much of it, in fact. The moment I get close to any one of them, every system at once starts to blare about their identity.”
The dolls in question were a mixture of recent captures, prisoners, and employees, and all of them were more or less identically outfitted. Each of them was a woman, clad in black from head to toe. Their arms were unrestrained, though they were somewhat restrictive mittens that allowed minimal movement with just their thumb and hands. Their glossy black bodies had been polished to a mirror sheen; from the top of their hooded heads, to the simple black blindfolds over their eyes, to the black plug -gag over their lips. The harness over their chests helped accentuate their curves and different body types, and also helped create a sense of uniformity.
All three of them had been abducted from what they were doing, and after a week of intensive training, had been dressed and brought before Phantom as a gorgeous, matching trio. One of Phantom’s favorite features was a very personal touch; the only sense of identity that they had was a printed photo of their faces, taped to their chests. All of them were glossy, anonymous rubber dolls; trying their best to stay still while kneeling obediently.
And that, that was such a pity, because despite all the work put into them, they simply weren’t up to Phantom’s standards.
“The whole point of having these dolls is that I don’t know who they are - or were. Lawyers, scientists, simple or complicated - the important thing is that all I have is that photo.” Phantom pouted.
“Yes, dear, I know,” said Natasha.
“But the Mira system…”
“Yes, I know,” said Natasha. “We had this talk last time too. I’m dreadfully sorry that we didn’t work out those kinks in the system. The neural network is just trying to do its job. Every time you get close, it thinks you want to assign them to something, so it’s giving you all their personal details.”
“And, just like last time,” said Phantom, “that simply won’t do. Go ahead, release them - or box them up, doesn’t matter to me. I demanded anonymous dolls, not….”
Phantom pointed at the three women. As if to punctuate the point, Natasha’s phone pinged - the Mira system had automatically sent her an e-mail with the details of the three dolls.
“...not these people,” said Phantom. “I swear, that Mira system is useless. Less than useless. Disassemble it, and get me three new dolls. And do it right this time - glossy, anonymous, and sweet. Make it so, Natasha!”
The CEO walked out of the room, leaving Natasha to contemplate the CEO’s demands. Even if the Mira system didn’t understand the nuance of Phantom’s needs, it understood her wants…
=====
"What you want," said Phantom to another Phantom, "is a very permanent vacation."
One Phantom was absolutely thrashing in heavy rubber. It was black and orange and made just for her. Convenient, since Phantom knew exactly what Phantom wanted.
The cell was small, just big enough for a second patient in the event that Netherwell Asylum had to double up on inmates. Padded rubber walls; lights off when nobody was visiting the inmate. Anonymous, sealed, layered. Netherwell was discreet, after all.
When told that this inmate was to be kept anonymous forevermore, the staff ensured that it would be kept as such. In addition to an identity-hiding orange hood with a black 'face,' she enjoyed an unsubtle -gag, harnessed over her exceptional (and exceptionally hidden) face.
The last thing that Phantom said to Phantom before turning her over to Nyx and Netherwell was said with a cold-yet-eager tone.
"Don't worry. They won't notice that you're gone, at all. Because you're not. So they won't be looking for you. Sounds like an me."
=====
Original art by https://www.deviantart.com/johnbizarro
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MIND SPOON.
I declare victory. Thank you.