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<a class="bbCodeBlock-sourceJump" data-content-selector="#post-42106" data-xf-click="attribution" href="/goto/post?id=42106" rel="nofollow">SnappingTurtle said:</a>
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			Androids were difficult to control.<br/>
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Engineers could program the shit out of them but there would always come a time when androids thought that they were really human. And when this happened, the android thought that it was too good to listen to its creator. It did whatever the fuck it wanted: love, play, laugh, sex, and other non-android activities were a part of its bucket list .In short, the android became useless to the engineer.<br/>
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It used to be that the government would hire special workers whose job it was to fix (<i>read: kill</i>) any androids that arrived at this almost inevitable junction in their timeline; however, allocating tax dollars to a career that supported murder (even the murder of androids) proved to be political insanity.<br/>
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Still, <i>someone </i>had to kill these Pinocchio spawns and the government figured that it might as well be there creators. This was Bill C-89, otherwise known as the <i>Waste Management Law.</i><br/>
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Cassandra Adams hated Bill C-89. Prior to its passage in Parliament, she loved creating androids, knowing that once they approached cognizance that she could put in an order to the public workers whose job it was to kill conscious androids.<br/>
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Now she approached her work with dread. That she was responsible for the birth, life, <i>and  </i>death of her creations was a fact which unsettled her. It was too much responsibility.<br/>
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Sitting at her work bench--the kind that the early creators of personal computers might have used--she again thought of just quitting her job. She imagined how she'd do it. Her boss was an anti-feminist arse who Cassandra would not have been surprised to learn hit his wife. She would walk into his office, punch him in the jaw without explanation, and if he fell to the floor, she would read a random passage from Jessica Valenti's <i>Full Frontal Feminism</i>. If he didn't fall to the floor, Cassandra would hit him until he did. Either way, he would be hearing from Valenti. He would only find out about her quitting the job when he checked his voice mails the next day.<br/>
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She tried not to smile at her imaginary resignation. It wasn't that she was afraid others might think her strange--it was late in the night and she was the last worker here--but for some reason she thought it unprofessional to smile. she decided that she'd laugh about it when she got home.<br/>
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Which would be soon. Her eyelids were being pulled downwards with sleep and her vision was becoming blurry. She yawned, took her glasses off, wiped her eyes, and returned her glasses to the bridge of her nose. Alighting from her work chair, she closed her laptop and slipped it into her satchel. Before she turned to leave, she cast a glance at the cause for her exhaustion and the object of her creativity.<br/>
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The android was sitting on a foldout chair--the kind that you brought to picnics. It had the resemblance of a black woman in her thirties: full lips, brown eyes, curly hair. It wasn't curvy but that was alright. It was still beautiful.<br/>
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Cassandra smiled and turned to leave.<br/>
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(I have no plans for this RP. I just started writing. You can play as the android that Cassandra made; or, perhaps, you can play as another character. That's entirely up to you. The setting is an alternate reality of the present. The only difference between this world and our world is that androids are commonplace).
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</blockquote><br/>This looks so interesting! I’m considering. :)