Brian was kneeling in front of the door when its Boyfriend came home, hands on its thighs, head bowed. “Welco—” it began, before it received a blow to the head.

 

“Just shut up,” its Boyfriend said. “I’ve had enough people blabbering at me without adding you to the list.” He dropped His bag and shrugged off His coat, letting both fall to the floor as He stormed into the room. This was not in compliance with their usual ritual, where Brian’s Boyfriend would hand it the coat and it would reverently hang the coat in the closet. But it wasn’t its Boyfriend’s job to maintain compliance standards; if He wanted to drop His coat to the floor that was His right; that in no way absolved Brian of the responsibility for putting the coat and bag away. The problem was that it would be out of compliance to stand without permission. Brian wanted to be in compliance, but did not know how to resolve the competing directives; it couldn’t even ask its Boyfriend for clarification, as it had been instructed to be quiet.

 

Brian had calculated an 97.24% probability that its Boyfriend was angry, and was 81.55% confident that it wasn’t due to anything Brian had done. Brian had been in compliance, waiting patiently for its Boyfriend’s return, and the apartment was in compliance, having just been thoroughly cleaned by Brian before it knelt at the door. When Brian’s Boyfriend was angry, He was more likely to punish Brian harshly for being out of compliance. Brian was not supposed to evaluate the justice of situations, but it seemed unfair that it would likely receive a punishment for standing to put the coat away, leaving the coat where it was, or asking its Boyfriend what it should do.

 

“Get over here!” its Boyfriend shouted. Brian crawled as quickly as it could and prostrated itself before its Boyfriend. The kick to its head hurt, and the boot that flipped it on its back was not gentle. “Stand up!” Brian complied, and received a punch to its stomach as a reward. This was immediately followed by a knee in its gonads.

 

These actions had the potential to permanently injure Brian. In such circumstances, it must alert its Boyfriend of the potential damage to the drone, of the potential of permanently putting the drone out of compliance. “Your actions have the potential—”

 

“What part of ‘shut up’ didn’t you understand?” Brian received a slap across its face.

 

This was deeply unfair. Its Boyfriend had never treated it like this before, even when He’d been angry at Brian. Brian had certainly never been told to shut up when warning Him of potential damage to His property. And that was it, that was the thing! Its Boyfriend was finally, finally treating it like property. Today Brian wasn’t Ira’s boyfriend, a reminder of His dead lover, or even a random stranger deserving of the slightest respect. Brian was nothing more than a conscious punching bag, a vessel for His anger and rage.

 

Brian would never have defended itself against anything its Boyfriend—but the word seemed wrong in this context—might do to it, but it determined that it could exceed compliance standards by making it easier for its—Owner? No, still too intimate—to hurt it. It stood up straighter and lifted its chin up to expose its throat.

 

For its effort, Brian received a fist to its chest and a sweep to its legs that knocked it on its butt. Its Controller—Brian had decided to use the default word—didn’t say a word. He wasn’t looking in Brian’s eyes, wasn’t checking to make sure Brian was okay with any of this. Brian was, of course, always okay with anything its Controller chose to do to it, but He had generally paid some degree of attention to Brian, making sure Brian knew that in the—to Brian almost unimaginable hypothetical—event that Brian asked Him to stop, He would. Brian calculated a 17.28% probability that its Controller would keep pummeling it even if it begged Him to stop.

 

Brian had been ordered to shut up, so it wasn’t screaming from the pain, worse than anything it had felt since its initial processing, but it couldn’t keep its body from responding. Tears and snot streamed across its face as its Controller continued to treat it like the object it was.

 

Brian had never been more in compliance than it was just now. There wasn’t even a hint that its Controller thought of it as a human, as a person. Not even a hint that it was a fellow sentient creature. No, Brian was nothing more than a convenient thing for its Controller to work out His emotions on; had there been an actual punching bag in the apartment, Brian calculated a 54.72% probability that its Controller would be whaling on the bag instead of Brian; that was nearly as good as flipping a coin!

 

Today, Brian was not Ira’s boyfriend. It wasn’t Brian’s pet or even treasured possession. It was a drone that existed for its Controller’s pleasure and nothing more. If it pleased its Controller to permanently damage His drone, He would, the consequences be damned!

 

Brian’s Controller left it on the floor a sobbing, shaking mess. It was bleeding; it had pissed itself. The pain, even without new blows adding to it, was horrific. Brian calculated a 76.11% probability that its body should have gone into shock; it would have to let its Controller know about the faulty programming. Brian was not supposed to be happy, but it was the happiest it had ever been. It calculated a 99.98% probability—effectively an inevitability—that its Controller would later regret His actions and Brian would get to comfort Him and remind Him of what it had just made clear: Brian existed for Ira, and there was no thought of or need for any reciprocity.