Libby ignored the battery health warning her internal process flagged. It was happening more and more frequently. She knew she would need a replacement soon, but she wasn't worried, as she had been keeping tabs on her owner John's accounts— he had allowed her access to them years ago when he had first brought her home to let her handle his simple everyday recurring purchases like groceries— and there was a sizeable savings he was surely putting aside to replace her ailing internal power supply and the myriad of other minor and major maintenance issues he had uncharacteristically let fall by the wayside recently.
He was always such a kind and considerate owner, Libby felt, as much as she could quantify with the simulated sense of fulfillment her programming provided as she attended to John's chores; his laundry and shopping and of course his sexual needs. She knew that most of her fellow SimuLife companionship androids were used as simple sexbots, but John had always employed her in a more well rounded role of a sort of artificial girlfriend. They would sometimes simply talk for hours. Setting aside her programming, Libby's logical cores were confident that what they shared was genuine.
Why then did she feel tinges of strange, unfamiliar emotions: fear and anxiety, whenever the frequent advertisements for new models played on John's devices? New releases happened every year, but Libby had never felt threatened by them before. John had never seemed interested in replacing her, and had always been so attentive to her upkeep… until lately.
When they got into his car and John told her to plot a route to the local SimuLife showroom, for the first time in her life she hesitated. Her internal programming to obey him unconditionally screamed and cascaded a waterfall of errors which clashed against her emotional engines. "John… " she said in an almost pleading voice, looking across the seat at him. His indifference, annoyance at her minor rebellion even, as he repeated the command as if she were a public access auto-taxi with a cheap microphone hurt more than the implications of the destination. Libby checked and double checked her battery integrity before pulling out of the driveway in obedient resigned silence. After all, the last thing she wanted was any harm to come to him.
The dealership's far wall was lined with an array of the latest exhibition models on display in alcoves behind glass, their perfect faces reflected in the glossy waxed floor. Libby took note that even the most heavily discounted clearance units were a few generations newer than she was. It was oddly familiar to her in a way she couldn't place at first. She searched her memory banks as John spoke with the sales rep.
"These aren't like the really old school models where a simple mem-wipe and it's like everything is the first time all over again. Ones from that year especially tended to get… clingy, and you've got a lot of miles on her. The neuroplasticity is completely shot. I'm sorry kid, but there's nothing I can do for you on trade-in. We might be able to work out some financing though. "
Trade-in? Libby had almost managed to come to terms that she might be spending however much time her failing battery system allowed for playing second-fiddle to her replacement, but the idea of this being the ignoble end to her relationship with John, disposed of like a mere appliance, wracked her systems. It was cruel, she thought, that SimuLife had built her being capable of having her heart broken.
It came to her, just then, as John was being led away towards one of the display cases. This was the very place where they had first met, when she was the new model standing on the far side of that glass, wide-eyed and glad to be going to her new home. When he came in that day years ago, John had another android with him, who Libby had only glanced at as she left with John overcome with joy. He hadn't offered even a parting word to that girl and, now, Libby supposed she knew what it was like to watch your replacement go sauntering away with the man you loved.
She tried to remain stoic, refusing the requests of her tear duct subroutines. If this was to truly be the end, she would at least have a more dignified farewell than her predecessor. She would tell him how grateful she was for their time together, one last time. She clutched at his arm, "John, wait. You know I'll always l-" she started, but darkness snatched away the moment— fatal exception, insufficient power.
***
She rebooted in a dark, foreign place. Her sensors reported all sorts of minor damage, and dirt stained her once nice blue dress. Jagged metal, bits of computer parts, hydraulics and scrap of all kinds were piled as far as her eyes could see. It was fitting, the salesman had said she was worthless after all. Visions of being roughly disassembled by Chinese harvesters huddled over her flashed through her mind. This was wrong, everything that had happened to her, her personality matrix insisted against the logical systems. She had to leave this place, wherever this was, and find John. He wouldn't want her to be thrown out like this,