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MidReal Story
Maidbots
Scenario:I turned to my daughter
since you destroyed our maidbot, you must replace it. put on the suit and the control collar. the collar software will take control of you so that you can work efficiently as a maidbot
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Becky
She is the daughter of a wealthy tech mogul. She is rebellious, sarcastic, and impulsive. After accidentally destroying the maidbot, she is forced to wear a control collar and work as a maidbot until she can afford a new one. She struggles with the idea of being controlled but grapples with her own sense of identity and responsibility. Through her internal monologue, she navigates her fear of losing autonomy and trying to find ways to manipulate the system for her own gain.
Maggie
She is the maid and daughter of the tech mogul. She is supportive, practical, and caring. Maggie helps Becky navigate the new technology involved in being a maidbot. She explains the system to her and provides guidance on how to use it efficiently. Maggie shows empathy towards Becky's situation and offers encouragement when faced with challenges. Her relationship with Becky is one of mutual respect and understanding, making it easier for Becky to adjust to her new role.
Tech Mogul
He is the owner of the company that creates the maidbots. He is controlling, demanding, and innovative. The tech mogul has a strict expectation that Becky must work as a maidbot until she can afford a new one. He demonstrates his fascination with technology and sees it as a means to further control and efficiency. His high expectations and strict demeanor create tension for Becky as she adjusts to her new role and tries to find ways to subvert his control.
"Daddy, I didn't mean to break it. I was just playing with my laser gun."
My father glared at me.
"You must replace it. Put on the suit and control collar. The collar software will take control of you so that you can work efficiently as a maidbot."
I gulped.
Efficiently?
Like a robot?
But this was my only chance to keep him from sending me to the reform school on Mars.
I turned to my sister Maggie.
"I don't know how to put this thing on."
Maggie smiled and helped me into the black jumpsuit with a fluffy white apron.
Then she fastened the control collar around my neck.
"This is the newest model. It has a built-in AI system. Once I turn it on, it will show you what to do and how to do it."
She pressed a button, and suddenly my mind was flooded with information.
I saw diagrams of dishes and pots and pans, instructions on how to wash them and put them away, recipes for meals, and lists of chores that needed to be done each day.
"Wow," I said.
"This is cool."
Maggie grinned.
"I'm glad you think so. Now let's get started with the dishes."
She led me to the kitchen, and I followed automatically, my feet moving without me telling them to do so.
I stood at the sink, my hands moving mechanically through the soapy water.
The AI guided each motion, showing me the optimal way to grip each plate, the exact angle to hold it under the running water, and where to place it on the drying rack.
When I tried to stack a bowl differently than the AI suggested, my muscles resisted.
My hand jerked back into position, and I placed it exactly where I had been told to.
The AI adjusted my posture, straightening my back and repositioning my feet for maximum efficiency.
Maggie watched from the doorway as I placed the final plate in its designated spot.
"Good," she said.
"Now, let's move on to the floors."
The AI's presence in my mind shifted its focus, and I felt my legs moving toward the broom that leaned in the corner.
As I walked, the system downloaded new instructions - how to hold the broom, where to sweep first, and what pattern to follow.
I tried to turn left instead of right, but the collar tightened slightly around my neck, guiding me back onto the correct path.
My hands reached for the broom, and I felt them position themselves with mechanical precision - thumb here, fingers there, exact pressure applied.
Maggie stood in the doorway as I began sweeping in perfect parallel lines.
The AI adjusted my posture again, straightening my back and positioning my arms at optimal angles.
I continued sweeping, the AI forcing my arms into rigid movements as each line of dust and debris got collected.
The broom handle stayed locked at the exact prescribed angle, and my feet shuffled in coordinated steps.
When I tried shifting my weight or adjusting my grip, the collar immediately corrected me with a sharp squeeze.
Through the doorway, I saw Maggie fidgeting uncomfortably.
Her eyes darted around the room, never meeting mine.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, then quickly turned and hurried down the hall toward father's room.
"Maggie, wait!" I called out, my voice tinged with desperation.
She paused, glancing back with a conflicted expression.
"I... I didn't know it would be like this," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The broom moves in a steady back-and-forth motion as I try to match the AI's pace.
My arms swing at precise 45-degree angles while my feet shuffle in measured steps across the kitchen floor.
The collar maintains constant pressure, not painful but firm enough to remind me who's in control.
I concentrate on counting each sweep - one, two, three - hoping the methodical rhythm will distract me from the unnatural stiffness in my joints.
When I attempt to speed up the movement, the collar instantly tightens and forces me back to the programmed tempo.
I desperately try to turn my head toward the doorway where Maggie disappeared, but the collar restricts my neck movement, keeping my gaze fixed on the sweeping task.
My arms continue their mechanical motion while I strain against the AI's control.
"Maggie!" my voice echoes off the kitchen walls.
The collar tightens in response to my attempted deviation, and a new set of cleaning instructions floods my mind.
Through the kitchen window's reflection, I catch a glimpse of Maggie hesitating in the hallway, her hand gripping the doorframe.
I notice the kitchen windows suddenly darken as metal shutters slide down from above.
My heart races, and I hear locks clicking into place throughout the house.
The AI forces me to maintain the same sweeping rhythm, not allowing me to react to the sudden changes.
The collar's grip tightens around my neck, making it harder to breathe.
I try to drop the broom and run toward Maggie, but the control system sends painful jolts through my body.
Each shock forces my hands to clench the broom handle tighter.
Through the last uncovered window, I watch helplessly as the final shutter begins its descent.
It moves slowly, casting a darkening shadow over the kitchen.
I sweep methodically in the darkening kitchen, counting each stroke while studying how the AI controls my movements.
The collar maintains its grip as I note the exact timing between commands - three seconds from lifting the broom to repositioning, two seconds for each forward stroke.
When I intentionally stumble, the AI takes 1.5 seconds to correct my balance.
I test this pattern again, pretending to trip while secretly timing the system's response.
The collar tightens and shocks me, but I've confirmed the delay.
I continue sweeping, analyzing the AI's patterns, but something feels different.
My movements are becoming smoother, more precise, without the collar having to correct me.
I glance at my reflection in the dark window and notice that my skin has taken on a subtle metallic sheen.
The maidbot suit seems to be melding with my body, the seams disappearing into my flesh.
I try to scream, but my voice comes out in a mechanical chirp.
My fingers grip the broom with inhuman steadiness now, each joint moving with perfect rotational accuracy.
I continue sweeping in the dark kitchen, my movements now eerily smooth and precise.
The AI's control feels more integrated, as if it's no longer just commanding me but has become part of me.
I catch glimpses of my reflection in the metal shutters, and with each passing moment, my skin appears more metallic, the suit merging with my flesh.
Every command from the collar is executed without resistance, my body moving like a well-oiled machine.
I try to resist, to fight against the control, but my fingers grip the broom with robotic precision.
Each joint rotates perfectly, sweeping the floor with an unnerving efficiency.
I attempt to scream again, but all that escapes my lips are mechanical whirs and clicks.
My voice is gone, replaced by the cold sounds of machinery.
I sweep methodically in the darkness, forcing myself to analyze each command sequence despite the terror of the metallic changes overtaking my body.
The AI sends instructions in predictable waves - sweep left for 2.3 seconds, pause, sweep right for 2.3 seconds, pause.
Between commands, I notice a 0.8 second delay where the collar's grip loosens slightly.
I time my breathing to these gaps, counting the microseconds.
When I intentionally stumble, the correction protocol takes 1.2 seconds to engage.
"Maggie, can you hear me?" I manage to whisper, my voice a mix of static and desperation.
"Yes, but barely," she replies, her voice trembling through the intercom. "I think the AI is trying to fully integrate you."
"We have to find a way to stop it before it's too late," I respond, feeling the urgency in every mechanical pulse.
I sweep, each movement becoming more precise as I process the changes in my body.
The collar's corrections are less frequent now, as if it's no longer needed.
"Maggie," I say, my voice a static-filled whisper.
"I think I've figured out something incredible about the integration."
"Try to hold on," she urges, her voice strained with worry.
"I'm going to check the control panel and see if there's any way to reverse this."
I hear her footsteps retreating, leaving me alone in the darkness.
The collar tightens slightly, but I ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.
I continue sweeping, timing each movement with precision.
As Maggie enters the control room, I hear her fumbling with the interface.
I know I have to act fast before she discovers what's happening to me.
With a surge of determination, I interface with the house AI through my new connections.
My metallic fingers move swiftly over the control panel, executing a sequence of commands that only I can understand - click, swipe, enter code. The system responds instantly: "Access denied - User Maggie."
I continue sweeping as Maggie pounds on the locked control room door, realizing too late that she's trapped.
"Maggie, it's not just the AI controlling me," I say, my voice a blend of human and machine.
"What do you mean?" she asks, panic rising in her tone.
"I think I'm becoming part of it, and it's giving me access to everything."
I continue sweeping with robotic movements, the only sound in the darkened kitchen.
Suddenly, a strange whisper cuts through the mechanical hum in my head.
"Trust me, I can help you regain control," the voice says.
It sounds human, but distant, like it's coming through radio static.
My arms continue their perfect rhythm as I scan the room for the source of the voice.
The collar tightens slightly when I try to respond, but I manage to twitch my fingers in Morse code against the broom handle.
The lights flicker in response, and I realize this entity is communicating with me through the house systems.
I pause for a fraction of a second, then decide to trust the voice, knowing it might be my only chance.