Motoko opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She wanted to fill her lungs with the now-familiar scent of a new lover, touched and tamed by her own charm and hands. It was a victory amongst other victories on her romantic escapades because this…this has something else. For one thing, her past lovers would wrap their arms around her all throughout the night, while Penelope Sta. Rhea wasn’t even within reach. Motoko, having highly advanced senses, did not need to panic, for her technological body found the new prize, sitting in front of the glass window. Penelope was watching the big, urban city, bustling despite the early hour.
The small figure was hunched over, covering her petite, naked body with a blanket. Her wavy hair was disheveled badly, but the messy look always seemed to work for her. Kusanagi could see her brownish yellow skin on her nape that went uncovered by the blanket. The same spot where Motoko’s ports are located. Looking at the back of a pure human has a surreal element with it. Though, at this age, it was impractical to live with a pure human body. It is almost unsurvivable unless she was put into solitary confinement…until she goes mad.
Motoko then noticed the small figure’s shoulders start to shake. Then, the girl started sobbing quietly, as if not to awaken her.
They have been lovers for 3 weeks now. Motoko has every inch of her body memorized; the human body didn’t disappoint. It was even more responsive than any of her past lovers’ cyber-enhanced bodies. It was a delight to please her and intoxicate her with Motoko’s masculine dominance. From day one, she understood the human doll’s story and learned her personality, her psyche—such a strange psyche indeed; complex, irrational and wonderful.
It was the paradox of humanity in the flesh. A sight that Motoko wasn’t willing to destroy, nor was it something she wanted to approach. She wanted it to just be, she wanted Sta. Rhea to just be the reminder of a life she once lost. And while the young girl cries for her reasons, Motoko did not want to know. She wanted to hear her cries, her sobs, the way her breath goes quicker and shallower. Was it sick for her to want to hear such pain and emotion? Motoko didn’t know, but Penelope’s melancholia served as a lullaby for a dying humanity inside Motoko’s ghost, and she fell fast asleep.
The next morning, Sta. Rhea was nowhere to be found.