Times were hard after our central bank suffered another economic shock and our currency plummeted to worthlessness. People did some pretty desperate things to hang on. I lucked into an opportunity with a foreign remote contractor. They would pay us what was pennies a day in NeoEuroDollars to feed realistic experience training data into their latest thought engine AI. What's more was this AI project was for a pleasure matrix meant to serve the idle wealthy who lived in the orbital platforms high and above the squalor the planetary surface had devolved into. We were being paid what converted into a fat payday for us to basically live out our most depraved erotic fantasies with this machine, so it could learn from the experience. Not a bad deal in my estimation. It beat fighting on the frontlines for whatever dictator was in power this week. As long as the electricity and interlink connection held out, I was in for a good time.
I clocked in, booted the interface, and was met with the comforting holographic glow of the generic personality of the model, a nondescript kaleidoscope of colors, in its learning phase before it would morph into a physical representation of the desires of its owner. The instructions were pretty simple. Just do what felt natural. Have sex. Don't hold back. The machine needed to learn. It needed to feel the full range of human emotion and experience. The AI would guide us to help it achieve that goal. I'd heard some people had used these things and had the best sex of their lives. They could adapt to any sexual fantasy you could dream of and were programmed to be completely loyal and obedient to your every desire. A real pleasure matrix was something I would never be able to afford in a thousand lifetimes. This was a luxury, and a paying gig in one. The only really trying stipulations were that I had to keep pushing the envelope so the AI could learn.
"Good morning, user." the generic voice sounded in my headset, "How do you wish to proceed today?"