aus-der-traum:

It was half past three when the servants opened the heavy wooden doors to the meeting hall for the long awaited coffee break. Sturmbannführer Gruber looked up from his notepad, on which he had been lazily scrolling to find the audio recording of the blatant lies Obersturmbannführer Meier had been spouting about two and a half hours ago – not to correct him in the name of truth and honour but to push the ugly little rat’s nose in them and quench his own boredom. Interrupted by this better distraction he watched as two tall male androids, identical models, entered the room. They were wearing the short white waiters jackets of the Schutzstaffel with the inverted man rune collar tabs designated for androids, the rune that was also embroidered on the equally slim fitted jacket worn by the stern looking female android at the end of the table next to Obergruppenführer Jung. It was his secretary and – if the rumours were to be believed – also his mistress.

The two androids walked perfectly upright, looking straight ahead, without an unnecessary glance or eye contact; the kind of uncanny behaviour of a willing slave focused on nothing but his duty to serve. It was a pleasure to watch, something that you could find only in good soldiers and in machines, but these machines had perfected it with grace. One of them bent over Gruber’s shoulder to pour him his coffee. With one hand behind his straightened back, the posture perfect in every way, he looked like a dancer’s caricature of a court servant. Very briefly he made eye contact with Gruber, a submissive look from under his long eyelashes, when he asked if the Sturmbannführer had any other wishes (he did indeed, but they weren’t suitable for this company). How very pretty they were with their perfect skin, the lightest of blond hair and eyes as blue as their blood. Their idealized facial features were evidently not modelled after the works of Thorak or Breker, who were better suited for military androids, but by someone more tender with a sense for the innocent beauty found in adolescent men. Yes, they looked a little frail with their big eyes and fine features yet something remained even in the most docile models to remind you of their power. Could this one if in this very moment it developed the taste for murder not just grab Gruber by the throat and with ease crush his windpipe or snap his neck? They did not want to hurt their masters of course, they did not want anything really, but if one day they did want, if one day they suddenly opened their eyes and like curious little children wanted to see and feel and break everything – who could stop them? Three of them in this room would be enough to kill him and all the other fleshbags. How pathetically weak they were, not just the old ones, the fat ones, the sick ones, the addicts or the sexual deviants – no, all of them. Even the fittest man was nothing compared to one of these dolls, not to mention the other models: workers, soldiers.

Maybe it was only appropriate they had made them in the image of the master race, that distant ideal they had chased so long. If one day the androids woke up and they decided to break their chains they would fulfil the prophecy in their design, they would rule as masters and then they would dine in the old halls and maybe they would keep servants too, ugly little human ones.

Gruber shook his head in reply to the android’s question. “No, thank you”, he said with a smile and to make the point that he really was thankful for the service he put his hand on the android’s and squeezed it. The android stood there with a vacant expression, silently waiting for Gruber to let go.

@reichblr-ficathon