“These women do not look real,” He said “their unblemished skin, their emotionless features, their porcelain looks, the cold smooth feel of their flesh. No, they are not real.”
“Ahhh but sir, these women are real. Feel their beating hearts, listen to their shallow breaths, look at the minuscule movements they bring about. They are real.”
“I am not speaking of life, nor existence in the physical realm. I am speaking of originality. The game of chance that comes with creating life. The randomness. These women are all alike, all exact, all perfect, down to the last detail.
These women may be bodies and have hearts- but they are not people.”
The room was silent. The women in their paper robes and the two men in their suits. The first man was sure, the second grasping onto thin air.