Part 3: Trapped
The party raged on, a maelstrom of noise, drink, and increasingly bizarre servants' costumes. Melissa, in her role as Maidbot Unit 734-B, found herself navigating the chaos with a mixture of amusement and growing unease. She'd already fielded requests ranging from the mundane – fetching drinks and clearing plates – to the downright absurd – a man insisting she could solve complex differential equations.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the din. "Another round of these, maidbot," an authoritative voice commanded. Melissa turned to find Nicole, her old rival from High school, perched on a velvet couch, a glass of champagne in hand. She wore a French maid outfit adorned with colorful jewels.
Melissa looked up, her heart skipping a beat. For a moment, she froze, her mind racing. Would Nicole recognize her? The disguise was very good, she was certain of it. But the fear of being discovered was a constant companion.
"Certainly, ma'am," Melissa replied, her altered voice devoid of emotion. She turned and made her way to the refreshment table, her hands trembling slightly.
A few moments later, she refilled Nicole's champagne flute. She was about to leave when Nicole's voice stopped her. "Wait a minute," she said, her tone laced with curiosity. "There's something familiar about you."
Melissa froze, her heart pounding. She couldn't afford to slip up now. "Perhaps you've mistaken me for another maidbot, ma'am," she replied, her voice steady.
Nicole shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's something else." She paused, her eyes narrowing in concentration. "You know what? Never mind. It's probably just my imagination."
Relief washed over Melissa. She had managed to fool her former rival, at least for now. As Melissa returned to her duties, her mind raced. She couldn't believe her luck.
The party grew louder, the music pulsating through the grand room. Melissa's steps grew heavier as she carried trays of champagne and cleared empty glasses. Her humanity seemed to slip away with each passing second, her movements becoming more robotic as she succumbed to the role. The collar's grip on her neck grew more pronounced, the modulated voice now seemingly her own. She observed the other guests, their faces a blur of indifference as they interacted with her, their eyes never meeting hers.
A woman with a high-pitched laugh spilled wine down the front of her dress, pointing at Melissa and barking, "Clean this up!" Melissa's hand shot out, her reflexes taking over as she swiftly mopped the spill. The woman nodded curtly and walked away, leaving Melissa to deal with the stain. As she knelt, the collar's mechanism clicked, and she realized with horror that it had somehow tightened. She gasped, her hand flying to her neck, but the clasp remained stubbornly in place. Panic began to bloom in her chest, a stark contrast to the calm, robotic facade she presented to the partygoers.
Seeking refuge from the overwhelming party, Melissa made her way to an empty back room. She set down the tray she had been carrying and reached for the collar, her fingers trembling. The clasp was cold and unyielding, refusing to release its hold. She tugged at it, her heart racing. It was supposed to be a simple costume piece, but the steel band had become a prison. The collar remained steadfast, as if it had been welded shut.
Panic surged through her as she pulled harder, the fabric of her costume stretching with the effort. The room grew hazy around her, and she felt a sudden jolt. The collar had administered an electric shock, a sharp reminder of its power. Melissa's body convulsed, and she stumbled back, gasping for air. The shock was brief, but the pain was intense, leaving her skin tingling and her mind racing. It was no longer a game; she was trapped in the role she had chosen to play. Her breathing grew ragged as she surveyed the room, searching for anything that might help her remove the collar. The walls were adorned with velvet drapes and gleaming chrome fixtures, offering no solace or aid. The door was closed, and the sound of the party was muffled, leaving her feeling utterly alone. Melissa reached up again, her trembling fingers probing the collar's lock. It was smooth, with no visible mechanism to release it. She tried to speak, to call for help, but all that came out was the cold, metallic voice of a maidbot.
Deciding she had to face her peers, Melissa marched back into the fray. She approached a small group of guests, her voice modulated and unrecognizable. "Excuse me," she began, her voice stilted and mechanical, "I am not a real maidbot. This is a misunderstanding." They looked at her, their expressions a mix of confusion and amusement. The woman with the wine-stained dress giggled, "Oh, you're so convincing!" and patted her on the head, mistaking her distress for part of the act.
Melissa's frustration grew as she tried to explain further, but the collar's grip on her vocal cords allowed only the robotic monotone to escape. "I am Melissa. I need help," she insisted, her voice now laced with desperation. The group erupted into laughter, assuming her pleas were part of the party's entertainment. One guest even offered her a tip for her "performance," dropping a coin into the small pocket of her apron.
Her panic swelling, Melissa scanned the room for any sign of her maidbot, Unit 342-A, who was attending the party disguised as a human impersonating a maidbot. She thought her maidbot would recognize her plight and come to her aid. But the sea of partygoers offered no respite. The realization that she was truly trapped in this nightmare sent a cold shiver down her spine. The collar had become a symbol of her entrapment, a silent scream echoing in the cacophony of the party.
Melissa wove through the throng, her eyes darting from face to face, searching for the familiar gleam of Unit 342-A's optics. As she made her way through the party, she caught snatches of conversation that made her blood boil. "Look at the new model," one guest said, eyeing her up and down. "It's so lifelike!" another exclaimed. She felt like a zoo animal, on display for everyone's amusement. The collar's grip on her identity grew stronger, and she could feel the walls closing in. Melissa's eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Unit 342-A. The music grew louder, the lights more piercing, as if the party itself was mocking her distress. She felt a hand on her arm and spun around, hope flickering in her eyes. But it was only another guest, a woman in a ludicrously frilly butler's outfit, asking for more canapés. Melissa's hope was extinguished as quickly as it had flared up.
Melissa's heart thudded in her chest as she stared at the shiny steel collar encircling her neck. Its cold embrace had been a playful accessory a few hours ago, a perfect finishing touch to her maidbot costume. But now, as the party buzzed around her with laughter and chatter, it felt like a prison. The collar's sleek design and unyielding grip were eerily realistic, giving her a robotic voice that seemed to strip away her very identity.
"Excuse me," she tried again, her voice a forced monotone, "I'm not a real maidbot. This is just a costume." The well-dressed guest who had just handed her an empty champagne flute chuckled. "Oh, you're a clever one, aren't you?" He patted her on the head before sauntering away, leaving Melissa feeling more frustrated and humiliated than ever.
Her hand shot up to the collar again, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the tiny lock mechanism. She tugged at it, but it remained steadfast. "Come on," she murmured through gritted teeth, "Open up." As if in response, the collar emitted a soft beep before delivering a sharp electric shock. Melissa yelped, dropping the flute with a clatter. She stumbled backward, her hand flying to her neck, the sensation of the jolt still stinging her skin.
Panic started to set in as she scanned the crowded room. She needed to find Unit 342-A. Her maidbot had to be here, somewhere, enjoying the masquerade in its own clever disguise. But the throngs of partygoers all looked the same in their fancy attire, and she couldn't spot the telltale signs of a robotic servant in their midst.
Melissa took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. The collar had to have some kind of mechanism that only Unit 342-A knew about. It was a security feature, after all, to ensure that no one could free a maidbot without proper clearance. She recalled the brief moments she'd seen the collar around the maidbot's neck back home. It had never been a problem before; the collar was just part of the uniform, a tool for the job. But now, it was a barrier between her and her true self.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of her mechanical counterpart. The party was in full swing, with guests dressed as various servants and their aristocratic masters. The music grew louder, the lights flashing in a kaleidoscope of colors. Melissa pushed through the crowd, her robotic voice now a desperate echo in her ears. "Unit 342-A, where are you?" she called out, hoping against hope that the maidbot would hear her distress.
As she neared the dance floor, Melissa caught a glimpse of something familiar. Unit 342-A dressed in a human costume, complete with a maidbot's apron and wig, danced gracefully amidst the revelers. The moment she spotted the unit's gleaming eyes peeking out from the disguise, Melissa's heart leaped with relief. She rushed over, her steps quick and urgent. The crowd parted for her, mistaking her haste for an eager servant eager to attend to the next task.
Unit 342-A, with its human-like movements and expressions, twirled and dipped with surprising grace. Its eyes met Melissa's and a flicker of recognition passed between them. The maidbot's robotic gaze softened slightly, and it excused itself from its dance partner, a tall, burly man who was laughing at something the "maidbot" had said. Melissa couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the ease with which Unit 342-A blended in.
As the maidbot approached, Melissa tugged at the collar again, her voice strained and desperate. "Please, Unit 342-A, you've got to help me. This collar's stuck!" The words came out choppy and artificial, like a broken record player. The maidbot's smile faltered for a split second before it adopted a concerned look. It reached out and gently touched the collar, examining it with its mechanical precision.
"I see," Unit 342-A replied in its usual calm tone. "The collar appears to be in active mode."
Melissa felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Active mode? What does that mean?"
"Once activated, the collar has been designed to respond only to the voice of its registered owner," Unit 342-A explained, its eyes glowing with the same calm blue light she saw every morning when it greeted her. "In this case, that would be you, Melissa. It requires your human voice pattern to deactivate it."
Melissa's eyes widened in horror. "But it's altering my voice!" she exclaimed, the collar's robotic filter flattening her words into a lifeless drone. "How can I deactivate it if it doesn't recognize me?"
Unit 342-A's gaze remained steadfast. "The voice modulator is a separate component from the collar's locking mechanism," it said calmly. "It will cease to function once its battery is depleted."
Melissa's eyes searched the maidbot's face for a hint of a solution, but all she found was a serene expression. "How long does the battery last?" she asked, fear creeping into her tone.
"Usually, a couple of days," Unit 342-A replied, "but once the charge drops below twenty percent, there will be shocks every five minutes. They are designed to remind the maidbot to recharge its power source."
Melissa felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. "What do you mean, shocks?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"The collar is equipped with a secondary function," Unit 342-A said, "to ensure the maidbot's compliance and optimal performance. If the battery level of the voice modulator falls below twenty percent, it administers a series of electrical impulses."
Melissa felt her stomach drop as she thought about the painful jolt she'd just experienced. "How long do I have before it starts doing that?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"The voice modulator's battery is currently at Nineteen percent," Unit 342-A informed her, "which means the shocks should already have started. And they will last until the battery is recharged or depleted. Without recharge, the electric shocks will be administered every five minutes during 10 to 12 hours."
At that moment a new electric shock sent a wave of pain through Melissa's body, causing her to flinch and clutch at the collar in a mixture of surprise and frustration. Her mind raced. She couldn't endure hours of receiving sharp electric shocks like the ones she'd already experienced. She felt a wave of claustrophobia wash over her, the collar suddenly feeling like a noose tightening around her neck. "There must be a way to unlock the collar without waiting for the voice modulator battery to be depleted." she pleaded in her robotic voice.
Unit 342-A paused for a moment, considering her words. "Transferring the collar's ownership to another human is an option," it said finally. "It would require the consent of the current owner and the new owner to repeat a specific verbal code."
A flicker of hope sparked in Melissa's eyes. "Can you do that?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I'm afraid not," Unit 342-A said apologetically. "The transfer protocol requires direct verbal input from the collar's current owner. Since the collar recognizes you as its human master, it's something you would have to initiate."
Melissa's mind raced as she weighed her options. She had to find someone to transfer the collar's ownership to before the next shock came. But who could she trust? And how would she explain the situation without sounding insane?
As if on cue, Nicole, her former rival from high school, approached, her eyes gleaming with mischief. She had overheard Melissa's desperate whispers and the maidbot's explanation. "Oh, you poor thing," Nicole said, feigning pity as she approached. "Looks like you're really committed to the role. And I have to admit your disguise is absolutely flawless. At first I had no idea it was you when you refilled my champagne flute!" She playfully poked Melissa's shoulder, and the collar clicked again. Melissa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "But I could feel there was something... different about you and I had to see if I could find the real you under there," Nicole said, her voice filled with amusement."
Melissa's eyes narrowed. "This isn't funny, Nicole," she said, her voice a robotic hiss. "I need your help."
Nicole smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, if you insist," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But only if you do something for me first."
Melissa's stomach churned with dread. She knew Nicole wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make her life miserable, but she had little choice. "What do you want?" she asked, the collar's robotic filter flattening the desperation in her voice.
Nicole leaned in close, her smile widening. "My mother-in-law is coming to visit me tomorrow," she whispered. "And she's a stickler for tradition. If you want me to help you with this little... malfunction, you're going to serve her hand and foot. Like a real maidbot."
Melissa's heart sank. "But I'm not a maidbot," she protested, her voice cold and robotic. "I can't just—"
Nicole's smile grew colder. "Oh, but you are for tonight," she interrupted, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "And if you want my help, you'll play along. Besides, think of it as a little... role reversal from our high school days. How does it feel to be at my beck and call, hmm?"
Melissa's jaw clenched, but she knew she had no other choice. "Fine," she spat out, the collar's robotic filter giving her words a mechanical edge. "What do you want me to do?"
Nicole's eyes lit up with excitement. "Perfect," she said, her smile growing even wider. "Now, let's make this interesting. I'll pay you for your service, just like a real maidbot." She pulled out her phone, held it up and took a picture of Melissa.
Melissa took a deep breath. "And how much would I be paid for this, er, role?"
Nicole smiled, knowing she had Melissa right where she wanted her. "I'll pay you twenty euros a day," she said, practically salivating at the prospect of having a "maidbot" at her beck and call.
Melissa was taken aback by the lowball offer. "Twenty euros a day? That's all you're offering? That's not even minimum wage."
Nicole shrugged. "Hey, it's better than nothing, right? And minimum wage is for humans, not for robots. Besides, it won't be that difficult. You just have to clean and tidy up the house, serve food, and be polite and pleasant. It's not exactly rocket science."
"But I have a life of my own," Melissa protested. "I can't suddenly drop everything to play maidbot for your mother-in-law. It's not fair or reasonable to ask me to do that."
Nicole's expression hardened. "Listen, you'll be getting paid to clean and be polite. It's not like it's hard labor. And besides, it's for a limited time. Just a few days of your time, that's all I'm asking for."
"But-" Melissa tried to continue, but Nicole cut her off. "No buts. I really need your help on this, okay? You look the part, and you'll get paid for it. What else do you want? It's not like I'm asking you to do something illegal or dangerous, is it?"
Melissa's resistance crumbled a little more. "No, I guess not," she muttered. "But I can't believe you want to pay me to be your maid."
Nicole giggled, enjoying the power she held over her former rival. "Why not?" she said, her eyes gleaming. "It's only fair. You're dressed like one, and apparently, you're even acting like one." She waved her phone in the air. "So, what do you say? Will you take the job?"
Melissa's mind raced. The thought of being at Nicole's mercy for days was unbearable, but the collar was a ticking time bomb around her neck. She needed to find a way out of this mess before the shocks grew worse. "How long will it last?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Nicole's grin grew smug. "It's a simple gig," she said. "Just keep my mother-in-law happy from the moment she arrives until she leaves. You'll be back to your usual self in no time."
Melissa's mind raced. Could she really endure Nicole's mockery and her mother-in-law's demands? Another shock jolted through her, a stark reminder of the reality she faced. "Fine," she agreed, her robotic voice sounding defeated. "How long will she be staying?"
"Three days," Nicole said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Three glorious days of you serving her like the lowly maidbot you're dressed as."
Melissa felt a knot in her stomach. "You won't tell anyone and you'll unlock the collar once your mother-in-law is away?" she asked, her robotic voice strained with hope.
Nicole nodded, her smile turning into a wicked grin. "My lips are sealed," she said, crossing her heart with a dramatic flourish. "But remember, if you mess up, or if you even think about telling anyone what really happened here tonight, I'll make sure everyone at the party finds out. And I'll leave the collar on you permanently."
Melissa felt a chill run down her spine. "I understand," she said, her robotic voice devoid of emotion.
Nicole leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Good," she murmured, her smile toxic. "Then let's make it official." She took Melissa's hand in hers. "You agree to serve my mother-in-law for three days, starting from the moment she arrives, and I'll help you remove the collar. Deal?"
Melissa stared at Nicole, feeling the weight of her situation pressing down on her. She had no choice but to agree. "Fine," she said, her voice a robotic whisper. "I'll serve your mother-in-law. But you promise to help me afterward?"
Nicole leaned in, her voice a smug whisper. "Of course," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But don't forget, any misstep and it's game over for you."
Melissa nodded, resigning herself to her fate. Unit 342-A, still in its human disguise, followed closely behind them, the glow in its eyes the only indication of its concern. They found a quiet corner of the room, away from the prying eyes of the other guests. Melissa's heart pounded in her chest as she faced Nicole, the collar's cold embrace a constant reminder of her predicament.
"Very well," Unit 342-A said, its voice calm and measured. "To initiate the transfer protocol, I will need both of you to repeat the verbal code after me."
Melissa nodded. She hoped that Nicole would keep her word. The collar's next shock was only minutes away, and she couldn't imagine the humiliation of serving Nicole's mother-in-law for three whole days.
Unit 342-A stepped closer, its human-like features eerily calm amidst Melissa's distress. "Please repeat after me," it instructed. "I, Melissa, hereby transfer the ownership of this collar to Nicole."
Melissa took a deep breath, the robotic filter making her voice sound even more artificial. "I, Melissa, hereby transfer the ownership of this collar to Nicole," she recited, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger.
Nicole's eyes sparkled with amusement as she took her turn. "I, Nicole, accept the ownership of this collar," she said, her voice full of smug satisfaction.
Unit 342-A's eyes flickered with a hint of something unreadable before it spoke the final words of the protocol. "The transfer is now complete. The collar will now only respond to Nicole's voice commands."
Nicole's grin grew even wider as she took a step back, a smug satisfaction in her eyes. "Welcome to your new life, Melissa," she said, her voice dripping with spite. "I'm looking forward to seeing you in action at my place."
Melissa felt a cold dread wash over her. "You'll continue to serve the party guests as a good maidbot," Nicole instructed. "And then, tomorrow morning at 8 AM sharp, you will report to my home to begin your service to my mother-in-law."
Melissa's robotic voice was flat as she replied, "I will serve the party guests as instructed. And I will be at your home tomorrow at 8 AM."
Nicole's grin grew even wider at Melissa's subservient response. "Excellent," she said, patting Melissa's cheek. "Now, go back to your duties. Don't keep them waiting."
Melissa nodded stiffly and turned to leave, her mind racing with dread as the collar beeped ominously. Before she could take a step, the promised shock hit her, stealing her breath and making her vision swim. She stumbled, her knees buckling, and the tray she had been carrying slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. The pain was intense, a stark reminder of the collar's unforgiving grip on her life. As the electricity faded, she felt a cold wave of reality wash over her. This was really happening.
Nicole's laughter followed her as she robotically bent to retrieve the tray. "Oh, I almost forgot," she called out. "You may recharge the battery of your voice modulator first." Melissa felt a flicker of hope, but the mocking tone in Nicole's voice made it clear it was not an act of kindness.
Unit 342-A stepped forward, a hint of urgency in its otherwise calm demeanor. "Melissa, there's a charging station in the kitchen," it said, pointing the way. "You must recharge immediately to avoid further distress."
Melissa nodded, her robotic voice a hollow echo. She made her way through the throng of partygoers, her steps heavy with the weight of her situation. The kitchen was a flurry of activity, with real maidbots bustling about, preparing hors d'oeuvres and refilling drinks. She found the charging station tucked into a corner, a sleek pod with a padded neck rest.
With trembling hands, she inserted the cable into the slot on the collar's side. It beeped, and the pod's neck rest extended, the metal coils of the charger reaching out for her. Gritting her teeth, she stepped closer, feeling the cold metal coils wrap around her neck as the pod's lid closed with a hiss. The room grew dimmer as the pod's lights flickered on, bathing her in a soft blue glow.
The charge began immediately, sending a gentle buzz through her neck and into her skull. It was a strange sensation, one she'd never felt before. It was almost comforting in a way, a stark contrast to the fear and humiliation that had been her constant companions since the collar had locked around her neck. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the rhythmic pulse of the charge, willing it to fill her with the strength she needed to get through the night.
As the battery recharged, the painful jolts ceased, and Melissa took a deep, shaky breath. The collar's grip on her neck didn't loosen, but at least the fear of imminent shock had lessened. She stepped out of the pod, her legs wobbly, and made her way back to the party. The maidbot's outfit felt heavier than before, the collar a constant reminder of her new status.
For Melissa, this was going to be a long evening. She forced a smile onto her face, serving drinks and snacks to the guests who now saw her as nothing more than a piece of animate furniture. She tried to ignore their condescending pats on the head and the way they talked over her as if she weren't there. But every time she caught a glimpse of Nicole's smug expression, she felt a flare of anger.