BTS, your perfect AI companion

"Good morning, ladies," a loud voice boomed as a tall woman in a lab coat stepped onto a stage, tablet in hand.

"I'm Dr. Helena Meyers, and today we meet so you may find your future companion and the father of your child." Her rhythmic tone was soothing, yet marrying a synthetic human felt surreal and terrifying. But in rhis post-war world fractured by gender divides, women scarred by trauma chose celibacy over demands and traditional expectations. In response, androids were engineered as perfect, low-friction companions to insure human prosperity.

Dr. Meyers raised her voice, sweeping her gaze over the quiet crowd: "The Great War stripped our population to a fraction. The Ministry recognizes repopulation cannot be enforced; it must be cultivated. That been said, traditional recovery is too slow, unefficient, unsure and dreading. That is why Project Repro-Bots was launched."

She tapped her tablet. Overhead lights dimmed as a spotlight hit a glass panel on her left, revealing seven androids standing in absolute stillness. "I don't know if this is fascinating or creepy," someone in the small crowd whispered.

"Before you is batch 0613," Dr. Meyers recited, clearly by heart. "Seven models representing the pinnacle of AI and biological synthesis. Hyper-intelligent, capable of processing emotions with high-tier empathy, and devoid of malice or judgment. Above all, their primary programming is fiercely protective. They are designed to shield, support, and cherish you while carrying the crucial DNA needed to build the next generation."

Another tap, and the bodies heaved with artificial breath, fingers twitching, eyes blinking, suddenly awake. As the top half of their white overalls magically dissolved to reveal bare skin down to their belt, she continued: "Tall, short, broad, or lean, with distinct features—each is entirely unique. None of them can be claimed twice as we follow a strict protocol to ensure the diversity of the population and the offspring to come." A collective shiver passed over the group.

"I understand the hesitation," Helena added as whispers filled the room. "Which brings us to today’s protocol. You are not expected to make a lifetime decision from behind a glass pane. Upon your arrival, a tablet was given to you. In there are all the documents about the models available.” All the participants took out their devices. "Once you have reviewed their specifications, you will cast an initial preference vote," she explained, pointing toward a series of private suites along a hall down the left. "Following your selection, you will be escorted to a private one-on-one session with your chosen model. You will have two hours in a controlled, naturalistic setting to converse, interact, and evaluate compatibility. If the connection feels genuine, the Ministry will finalize your pairing contract allowing you a two weeks trial in the comfort of your home."

On this last words, she took a step back, leaving the crowd to the reading of the documents. "When you are ready, you may sort the models in order from most interesting to the least in the app." 7 small pictures with an associated name appear on screen: Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. Once everyone was done with their choice, lab staff led them to private suite to finally meet the companion.

The silence in the room was thick and heavy with anxiety. It was broken only by the buzzing hum of hidden machinery and the scratchy rhythm of a pen moving across a clipboard. Five individuals stood in the center of the space. Spotless white walls and gleaming marble floor reflected the cold, shadowless light, making the entire chamber feel surreal. They shifted their weight, foot-to-foot, patiently waiting as the employee in immaculate white scrubs finally set her pen down with a click that sounded almost too loud for the place.

Her gaze swept over them, clinical and utterly detached from the palpable collective nervousness. For these people, this was a moment of profound, life-altering significance; for her, it was Tuesday.

“You are about to initiate your matching procedure,” she began, her voice a flat tone. She gestured toward the far corner, where seven figures stood in a silent, perfect row. “Those units represent your available choices for today’s session. It is important to understand that participation is voluntary. If none of the current models meet your expectations, you may decline and be rescheduled. However, I must advise that wait times for a new appointment can exceed six weeks.”

Her aloofness was a chilling counterpoint to the storm of emotions in the room—a mix of desperation, fragile hope, and a deep, unsettling weirdness that came from seeking a synthetic replacement for human company.

“The seven models before you are from production batch 0613. They represent our latest generation: highly intelligent, with intuitive processing matrices.” She paused, allowing the technical jargon to hang in the air. “A key innovation is the integration of a personality-matrix chip, which assigns each unit a foundational MBTI type. This is designed to provide a more coherent and human-like behavioral baseline.” She looked at them, her eyes sharp, emphasizing the next point. “They do not feel emotions. But their artificial intelligence is advanced enough to read your bio-signatures and micro-expressions, allowing them to simulate appropriate, empathetic responses. This significantly enhances their realism ».

Their eyes drifted back to the mannequins. No, not mannequins but androids. They were realistic, frozen in a perfect sleeping state with eyelids softly shut. The only thing that betrayed their artificial nature was the absolute stillness of their chests—no subtle rise and fall of breath.

“Based on the psychographic data you provided in your application, we will pre-load relevant information into your selected unit to facilitate a smoother integration period,” she continued. “Furthermore, each model has been optimized with specialized knowledge in distinct fields—culinary arts, domestic engineering, historical databases, and so forth—to increase the functional realism of your future relationship. Their core programming mandates respect, helpfulness, and pleasantness. They will learn and cater to your specific likes and dislikes.”

She glanced down at her clipboard briefly, then retrieved a stack of sleek folders from her desk. “The document you already possess covers the terms of service. These are the dossiers.” She handed one to each person. “As stated, they have been given first and last names for your reference. These files contain a brief resume of each unit’s pre-loaded traits and specializations. They possess a foundational character, but their adaptive algorithms will allow them to mold themselves to your personality and daily routine seamlessly. I will give you ten minutes to review the options before we proceed with the selection.”

For the next ten minutes, the only sounds were the soft rustle of turning pages mixed with the soft buzz of computers. When the time elapsed, the employee straightened up, her expression unchanged. “Are there any questions before we begin the selection process?”

Make your own