This is Valeria, with an exclusive interview series for Lascivious Love, the Ontario Peninsula’s hottest (and we do mean hottest) underground magazine. The year is 2087, our orbit is still saturated with trash from the Kessler Incident of 2036, but while old world communications are dead, print media is thriving again! Naughty readers, I’ve got a steamy (literally, there’s a lot of it in this building) interview lined up for your wonderfully pervy eyes that’ll be sure to get you subscribing for more.

Ruby Eve, born in 2004 in Toronto (and raised there), disappeared for a decade after K36, only to return and set up the most delightful yet humble shop Toronto Servos in the recovering Queen West sector. With some hard work, “And a shit ton of elbow grease, new steel alloys, and some fucking expensive hardware.”, since 2055 she’s grown a tiny workshop for all your doll maintenance needs into a thriving business offering custom models, some made in house for sale, and some for those that pay for others to become one.

Until now she’s denied all requests for an interview from our rival publications, but when I rolled that dice and inquired, she agreed. So, it’s time to pull up the garage doors and give you a deep dive interview into this quiet establishment that’s sure to become your destination for doll lovers everywhere.

Sitting in Eve’s office, you’d almost think you were at an old-world mechanic. Simple desk, a terminal, a frankly uncomfortable chair for me, I waited for her to finish up in the showroom. There was even a vintage 1955 Bette Page bondage calendar on the wall. Ruby wasn’t what I expected either, her perfectly cropped sanguine hair and tall statuesque with a body obviously benefitting from a stellar and expensive anti-aging treatments (I’d pin her as mid-thirties despite her being 83, if you’re looking for a picture in your head, as she doesn’t like to be photographed), contrasted with a blue workman’s shirt half unbuttoned, work boots, and a pair of jeans that I bet have been repaired more times than all the toys she’s worked on over the years.

She set down a coffee in front of me, before stating it was Americaf beans from a greenhouse. I asked her if she was so successful, surely, she could get the real Arabica variety, but with a wink as she sat behind the desk she said, “Let’s see how this interview goes.” There was a glint of humour in her sanguine eyes, but also an abundance of caution. I guess you don’t get where she is by throwing money around. Now let’s get to the interview!

LL: You’ve avoided interviews for years, why speak with us today?

Eve: I wanted my team assembled, our cash flow stable, and for us to finally feel at home in the neighbourhood. Makes no sense spouting my mouth off the moment I open shop, and I needed to vet Lascivious Love first, intimately. [Eve leaned back in her leather chair which had been patched up nearly as much as her jeans and lit a cigarette, offering me one which I declined.] But it’s time to show off our work to the wider world, we’re expanding, and the advertising will help.

LL: Sounds like you’re using us.

Eve: You’re using us too. You get readers, I get prospective clients’ eyes. I’m ready to swing and see if this is a strike or a dinger.

LL: You’re being very candid.

Eve: Sorry, did you want me to bullshit you about my reasons, or did you want a real fucking interview? I thought candid is what you journeys want.

LL: Fair enough, but your reputation only got me here. What have you got to tickle my readers?

Eve: [A sadistic smile crept across her ruby lips]

Okay, you want a great example of our work for your readers? Get a load of this. So, it's a scorching October 23^rd, 2085, beautiful bright day, and this hottie walks in. I'm talking perfect 10, and she's wearing shoes that cost more than some of my equipment, and holding a purse made by some fashion superstar brand I can't pronounce. Real diamond necklace, gold rings, emerald and gold bracelets, heels bigger than my cock was, and probably some other jewellery made of materials you have to be in the upper strata to identify. She's also got one of those clear glass phones that can roll up into something the size of a lipstick case- and yeah, she's done to the nines, or tens, I guess. Someone's spent money on this chick, because she clearly didn’t do shit, and she talked down to me like I was a valet."

But she’s still come to me at the front all excited, even if her eyes were judging me worse than the actual judges at my bail hearings, and she seemed to avoid looking at our utilitarian facilities (but you’ll see why we keep the showroom in the back soon). Passes me a card and says we’ve got a gift waiting for her. So, now I figure it out. I say I just need to verify it, playing up how expensive the gift is, killing time while I'm passing the card through a reader underneath the desk which showed the real client's number, one I recognized immediately. She starts looks uncomfortable so I'm like, “Yep, he's got something real special for you. While we get it ready, we've got a VIP lounge, it’ll be much more to your liking than our dirty front door. We can have someone polish your shoes, give you a back rub as you've been standing for a while, bring you an Arabica latte with real milk, it’s even got a couch you’ll just melt into...” I go on. I play it like, ‘Yes we're here to serve you, your majesty.’ She's eating it up, guard dropped."

The VIP room is just our normal lounge, but it's real fucking nice, mostly because I live in the building, and I like nice things too. I grab a special VR temple set, not one of our normal entertainment ones, and tell her to watch her soaps or experience flight or whatever and someone will be in shortly to do whatever things I just promised her. Doesn't matter, she's thrilled, puts the two pieces to her temples. Once she's done that, I call to the back to the guys, gals, and bots (I call them ‘the squad’) who work for me to get Bay 2 ready for our client's package. Bays 1 and 2 are more private than the others, because of everything that happens in ‘em. Soundproof, walls that can’t be seen through by most methods, and feature our most sensitive/ expensive equipment.

I don't need to tell your readers that when I pull those VR things off she's pretty compliant. She's confused though, asking where we're going even as she follows me. Starts to protest, even as we get her strapped onto the conversion table. Once she's locked in, we're good to take her clothes, jewellery, shoes, all of that. We lock the bay down, grab the gear, boot up the systems, and open a grate for all the blood. Our client asked to make it painless though, and while there's a sharp shooting pain when the port at the base of the spine is installed, once the needle's jacked in we turn off her pain receptors. Honestly, I really wished he’d ask to to make it painful for once, it’s not like she’ll remember it, and it would have been so much more fun, but fuck it. Client wants? Client gets.

You know the worst part of this? She's got all these shit implants, in her tits and lips and thighs and fuck... I mean, it was real work to remove them. We have to convert the skin to our special sleek, durable, and ever so soft material, not to mention install our own implants, so leaving hers in would just short the thing out and/ or look real ugly. We remove a few limbs the client wanted and install ones that are aesthetically identical but come with some features, such as better articulation. Also, he wanted her feet so precisely done that we had to design those custom, and even then, Tess was going over with a fucking magnifying glass and caliper to make sure they were up to spec.

When the body work was done, she looked just about like she did coming in, although her lips fullness got toned down a bit, client felt it was too much. We dress her back up but put the jewellery in a box. Body work’s the hard part, for me and Tess at least. Clockwork, our ‘guy’ -I call him a guy, he acts like one, but he’s really just a fully autonomous clockwork machine fella. Real prankster, if you can believe it- but he jacks into our dual-charging and data socket (best in class) and starts coding. We always upload a basic code on the basics of looking and acting human, unless the client wants that out, but you gotta teach it how to walk and talk and hold things, all that from scratch. Her mind was fucking done, so Clockwork is typing some 700 words per minute but coding a workable thing from scratch is a bitch, even for a robot. That’s after the OS of course, a proprietary and normally locked down code that deals with all ‘bodily’ functions and runs the rest of the code, although our client paid us extra and signed the non-disclosure papers, so we unlocked our TSOS (Toronto Servos Operating System) for him.

Then there’s the fun stuff. Now, what I appreciate about this client is that with all we were doing, he didn’t care about any household programs, or personality beyond ‘Act Human until I turn that off’, usual stuff people ask for. We knew that this thing was going to suck dick, take it in every hole, striptease, beg for it, and generally get fucked hard, and the reason why he wanted a secondary stomach for cum, a ‘cumach’ became clear. This thing wasn’t going to do a goddamn thing but be a fucktoy, and I respect that. Man knows what he wants. As I said, we obliterated her old mind and personality; I watched as Tess lobotomized the slut hard before replacing about 80% of the frontal lobe. Tess always lets me watch, even if it’s a real delicate thing; it’s not even because I’m her boss, she just loves the work and I love starring into a person’s eyes and watching the last glimmer of personhood melt like it’s drowning in acid.

Clockwork hits upload, and even has a program that constantly checks for errors which tacks on another twenty minutes but saves time when we have to debug later.

Oh, I’ll explain later, but we tattooed the number 650,892,380 on its ass.

I do enjoy the time after our work is done, when all that data is uploading. Even with our machines, the code is so large and nuanced that the install process takes about three hours. We crack open a couple beers, the squad gets to work on other projects, I talk with our infrastructure guy, Harry, about the Jays blowing that 2-14 lead in the 8^th to get knocked out of the playoffs, the usual. A wealthy couple come in and browse the showroom, didn’t make a sale but they wanted my card, which usually means they found something they really, really want, but can’t quite admit that to themselves yet.

Anyways, she's all done three or four hours after walking in. Looks about the same, but there’s barely anything of the pig underneath. Plus, her parts can change appearance, size, and it has all our custom 'for his pleasure' signature upgrades. We test the program, I throw up my hands and cheer when we get all green the first time (I picked the best motherfuckers for my squad, I spent years finding those diamonds in the rough), then we give her directions to the client’s home in a simple-minded state. The jewellery is sent back too in a nice box.

This client's a wealthy man, who got tired of gold diggers. I’m talking ultra wealthy, impossible to find true love when you’re at that level, but girls after his wallet just throw themselves at him. It was pretty frustrating, as you can imagine. After a while, he heard about my shop. So, the two of us made a business arrangement. He’d enjoy these girls, spend the kind of cash that you wrap in elastic bands on them, do whatever the ultra rich do (I don’t have enough imagination for that), but always gives them the same jewellery he happened to give the girl before (I suggested that one to him, and he found it very amusing). He keeps a tally of every mark he spends on them, that’s what the number we tattooed on its ass for, that’s how much he spent on her (not counting our services). Once he’s bored, or they annoy him, or get the brats, he tells them he’s been preparing some unfathomably expensive gift and all they need to do is pick it up at an unassuming place he trusts. That of course, is where we come in. I forget her former name, but I hope he enjoys Harem Slave 08. Yep, eight girls, all done here. I really hope he finds actual love someday; I’d say I’d miss the cash, but something tells me he’d still enjoy his ‘toys’. His payment was prompt as always, A+ client.

LL: [Eve smoked four cigarettes while telling that story, I’m thankful for my lung filtration system] I’m not judging, but you sound sadistic.

Eve: I am a sadist. You didn’t catch the part of watching them just… melt away?

LL: I’m impressed by your work, but is every job like that?

Eve: We do basic maintenance on bots, bought here or not. We’re still a repair shop.

LL: I certainly have enough for an article, and thank you for your candidness, but is there anything you could tell me that’s not as… hardcore?

Eve: I thought your readers loved the hardcore.

LL: There’s no darkness without light.

Eve: They teach you that line in writing academy?

LL: Yes, actually, one of my professors said it a lot.

Eve: [Lighting a fifth cigarette, Eve thinks for a moment] Okay, tell you what. Run this story, we see where it goes, and if we can establish a working relationship, I’ll tell you about the day I really helped someone. [She, for the first time, spoke with affection.]

LL: I’d like that.

Eve: I did a really good thing that day. Honestly, I hope you’ll be back. It’s a story I’d love to tell you.

Toronto Servos certainly deserves its sterling reputation. After a quick tour of the facilities, and even the showroom, I had to be off for another appointment. However, the entire staff (or ‘squad’ as Eve keeps calling them) were amiable and knowledgeable, the facilities (despite some dirt and grime, which I guess comes with the territory) were outfitted with impressive tech I didn’t even know existed. Clockwork brought me another coffee, but then used his perfect motor control to pretend to trip and nearly spill it, so that had he fallen a millimeter further he would have spilled some on my top, before perfectly righting himself. As I said goodbye, it felt like I was leaving a family home.

Lascivious Love readers, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Not just because opening mail is so much fun, but because I am dying for a chance to go back. Eve changed when she mentioned helping someone, and that’s a story I need to get.