<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Memory on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/memory/</link><description>Recent content in Memory on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Fri, 17 Aug 2018 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/memory/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>My Life as a Robot</title><link>/stories/2018/08/17/my-life-as-a-robot/</link><pubDate>Fri, 17 Aug 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/08/17/my-life-as-a-robot/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Kelly sat blinking at the computer screen. There were words there flashing
before her eyes, but she had no awareness of them. There was something
happening to her. Powerful, expansive tingles crawled across her shoulders,
slipped down her spine, a thousand little nerves twinkling with pleasure,
like a thousand swarming stars enveloping her naked body. She was amazed
by the pleasure, the constant pleasure, running the length of her body,
head to toe, rushing up and down so fast she felt them as shivers and wondered
if she was cold. Should she get up and turn down the thermostat? Should
she get a sweater from the closet? Should she put her clothes back on&amp;ndash;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>