The Corrupter

By Richard Paul Evans

The future.

From the moment Oberon O’baron laid eyes on the robot, he was in love. With just a glance the petite artificial girl set his heart aflame, sending him into an obsessive frenzy. As the old-fashioned Englishman struggles with his new found passion, he is led into a world of political agendas, futuristic vice and sexual frustration. Oberon is obsessive, cowardly, self-loathing and weak but his mind is sharp and his dedication unwavering. All the pleasures he had denied himself, all that he had missed out on could be reclaimed.

All he needs is HER. The Corrupter is a science fiction tale of obsession, set in a world where everyone is watched and nothing is private.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Paul Evans
• Release date: Aug 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310998652

Richard Paul Evans

Richard Paul Evans is the #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty novels. There are currently more than thirty-five million copies of his books in print worldwide, translated into more than twenty-four languages. Richard is the recipient of numerous awards, including two first place Storytelling World Awards, the Romantic Times Best Women’s Novel of the Year Award, and five Religion Communicators Council’s Wilbur Awards. Seven of Richard’s books have been produced as television movies. His first feature film, The Noel Diary, starring Justin Hartley (This Is Us) and acclaimed film director, Charles Shyer (Private Benjamin, Father of the Bride), premiered in 2022. In 2011 Richard began writing Michael Vey, a #1 New York Times bestselling young adult series which has won more than a dozen awards. Richard is the founder of The Christmas Box International, an organization devoted to maintaining emergency children’s shelters and providing services and resources for abused, neglected, or homeless children and young adults. To date, more than 125,000 youths have been helped by the charity. For his humanitarian work, Richard has received the Washington Times Humanitarian of the Century Award and the Volunteers of America National Empathy Award. Richard lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, with his wife, Keri, and their five children and two grandchildren. You can learn more about Richard on his website RichardPaulEvans.com.

Book preview

THE CORRUPTER

By Richard Evans

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2014, Raven Entertainment Studio, All Rights Reserved

No part of this book or electronic document or any of its contents may be reproduced, copied, modified or adapted, without the prior written consent of the author, unless

otherwise indicated for stand-alone materials, review purposes or promotion as permitted. Please send all questions or concerns directly to the author at [e-mail]

Chapter 1

What do you think you are doing, citizen?

Oberon took his fingers off the VLADI-N robot’s bottom lip and pulled his hands up inside the sleeves of his dark brown trench coat. Its pursed lips had looked so soft and pink he was unable to resist reaching out and touching them. The lights inside the iRobot Store seemed suddenly too bright, reflected and multiplied off the stark white walls and the staff in their white jumpsuits. The manager chased after a married couple who meandered in the KIDDO section, and he kept glancing over at Oberon suspiciously. Oberon could tell he was the manager from the pencil thin moustache he had, a sign of some authority among the rest of the clean-shaven staff. No one had seen what Oberon had been doing, no one was watching him, but his own suspicious nature made him uneasy and he decided it was best to flee before he got into any trouble. It had taken all of his courage to enter the store and he had known his urges would get the better of him. The instant he entered the shop the robot’s eyes had followed him, big and dark beneath large artificial lashes. Sitting in the window as if it were waiting for someone, for him, to come and buy it. Oberon did not look back as the old-fashioned wooden door slammed shut behind him, but he intended to come back. A Variable Lover and Domestic Intelligence was far above the comfortable range of his budget, but he could afford it. Oberon was determined to have it. As a man who took no liberties in life, he believed he deserved it.

From the moment they’d put it in the window he’d been drawn to it, to the small and perfectly designed jejune-style body form, the dark eyes and the hair as black as night. It wasn’t as if Oberon normally lusted after a machine. In anything, he had lived his life as a modest man, a man of reservations and prudency. His ex-wife had often referred to him as the last of the uptight English gentlemen, although she meant it as an insult. Never in his life had he ever considered such a thing even though it was quite common amongst the younger generation. Even among the older citizen’s relationships with robots was becoming commonplace. There had been a rumor that Old Lady McAdams had tried to marry one after her husband passed away. All he ever saw on Netview were young people cavorting and playing with each other and machines, in sexual and romantic relationships with no regard for modesty or morality.

He had been on his way home one gray evening, walking the same four blocks from the subway station that he walked every night for the last twenty years of his life. A small, thick man had just finished carrying the robot to the display chair in the window, where it sat patiently, unable to walk on its own for security reasons. It was the eyes that had caught Oberon’s attention, sparkling like dark wet stars in the florescent light of the store window. It seemed to watch him with curiosity, tilting its head slightly as he pretended to be looking at his reflection in the window. That was a week ago and every day since his attraction to the pseudo-flesh had grown stronger. Every night, for at least half an hour, he stood in front of the window, studying the robot as it studied him. They had dressed it in a tight, form fitting sleeveless black body suit that made it appear even more young and petite. As he studied the robot, it would stare off at some distant point in the city, never making eye contact with him. Sometimes though, for a brief moment, she would glance down at him, like an angel or a goddess from Olympus and he would swell with pride. Then the look would pass, moving on to something else, perhaps something inside the artificial mind that only it could see. Someone, perhaps one of the employees who worked inside, had tied its hair up into a tight bun. Oberon loved the gothic librarian look, but it was the outfit they dressed her in on the fourth day of his infatuation that pushed Oberon into a frenzy of wantonness.

It was a Thursday and Oberon was hurrying home along the wet sidewalk, having forgotten his umbrella even though it was a pre-planned Rain Day. Oberon froze in his tracks when he saw her. The robot’s skin shaded the perfect white, not too pale and not to ethnic for his tastes. It was the color of milk as he remembered it from his childhood. Most of the advanced robots sold within a couple days and in order to entice buyers, they had dressed her in a long red negligée. Its knees were together and tilted slightly to the right with her hands placed on top, making it seem as if it were a prim and proper young girl. Yet the make-up was that of a modern harlot; bright red blush, red eyeliner and a simple streak through the middle of her lips to make them appear pursed and small. Oberon wanted to take her at that very moment, he felt like a beast ready to smash the glass and make off with the toy that had caught his eye. Blood pounded in his ears and his erection grew, filling him with a sudden paranoia he had never experienced before. His cheeks turned as red as the robot’s with shame. Oberon turned and fled into the night like a scoundrel.

Even though he was ashamed of his affinity for a machine, Oberon found himself talking about it indirectly throughout the day. He worked alone most of the day but he was in a unusually chipper mood and he found himself going out of his way to engage his co-workers in conversation. It was difficult for him to concentrate on the numbers flashing across the faces of the people of London that he watched all day and the computer constantly chimed to alert him he was taking too long to form the connections. Oberon was sure his performance rating was going down but he did not care. As soon as it was time to leave, he bolted out the door, running into his replacement that used his office during his off hours. It was the second day of scheduled rain and this time he remembered his umbrella but he moved through the streets so quickly he ended up wet anyway. At 85 years old, he was a good decade passed middle age but he felt younger than he had in years. He skipped across the concrete sidewalk like a man in his twenties, holding his trench coat closed in front of him rather than stop to button it up. Citizens of London cast menacing glances at him as his heavy footfalls splashed them with water from the puddles. Eventually they just moved aside for him and he finally made it to the window of iRobot. At that moment there was nowhere else Oberon would rather be. The window lights had changed from the common bright white to red and for a split second, he was afraid that they had changed the display once again. As he crept up slowly, drawing closer and closer, his heart fill with joy when he finally laid his eyes on the robot. It turned its head toward him and one eyebrow rose up slightly as she glanced down at him. The eyebrows were the same jet-black color as her hair and as perfectly sculpted as the rest of her. There seemed to be a hint of suspicion in her artificial eyes and Oberon gave her a reassuring smile as he wiped his wet hair out of his eyes. In response, the robot turned away, shifting in the chair to face the opposite direction. There was no cruelty to it, it simply shifted and sat, the red negligee riding up the side of its leg to reveal the shapely curves of its legs.

The red light only served to make the scene more erotic and sensual. Oberon wondered if they had dressed the robot in underwear. Yet he could not get past his curiosity over how it must look naked. Was it like a woman, with hair down below, or was it as cleanly shaven? Someone out in the world, far from London, had built an artificial woman with an artificial vagina and Oberon was fascinated. In his mind, it had the body of a young girl, a girl unlike any he had ever seen. He tried to catch her eye but she was too high up and refused to look down. Her face as white and unmoving as an angelic statue in red lingerie, the robot did not move or glance at him again. Still he stood there for hours, the rain beating down on his umbrella. He studied and memorized every curve of its body.

When he finally had the sense to go home he was soaked down to his veins but the blood pumping through them was hot enough to keep him warm. Oberon lived only four blocks away and once he was dried, he considered returning to the store but he realized he was naked. Rather than go through the effort of picking out a wardrobe and returning to the store, he took to his room and pleasured himself. This act was something he did not do more than a couple times a year. The warm flush in his skin and the cold chill he felt from the rain aroused him and his mind swam with red flashes of imagery. His mind raced with pictures of the storefront window robot. Never in his life could he recall needing release so badly. Even if he had wanted to go back to the iRobot store, he could not have returned. Oberon was not authorized to be out past midnight. The law did not see any reason for a man of his age and occupation to be out that late, so along with other older man he had to follow the rules of the curfew.

For the next three days, he repeated the same selfish routine so that he could see her and enjoy her. Each night he would stand outside the window, basking in the presence of the robot. Then he would dash home, undress and pleasure himself. It made him feel young and healthy and while he was slightly ashamed, he glowed with the rush of life that his activities were bringing him. The robot did not recognize him and he wondered if it had forgotten it had seen him before. One single week after laying his eyes upon