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(Currently writing this with someone, but very interested in where else it can be taken. Was originally planned to be a long-term, romantic story, but I'm pretty open-minded if there's a specific place you want to take it...)
The skyscrapers shine in the morning haze over New London, as you wake from your long sleep and stretch in our bed. I'm already awake and showering, as you pad over to the large, picture window and look over the city. Your long hair flows across your bare shoulders as you stretch again.
You hear the shower shut off and the bathroom door open, I stand behind you, admiring both views. Turning, you smile and skip over to me, our naked bodies colliding as I stop you from pushing me over. when you get excited you don't know your own strength... I smile and my gaze falls upon the picture next to our bed.
It's a picture of me and another woman. The other woman looks the same as you, but isn't you. She was my wife, who passed away in the war, years ago. You are a replica, perfect down to the last detail, but ultimately not human. The only thing real about us is our love...
You look up at me and see the look on my face. I meet your gaze and wonder; is your look of puzzlement genuine human emotion or is it your positronic brain giving mixed signals?
"Good morning my darling", I whisper. You tilt your head back and kiss me deeply. I reciprocate by sliding my nails down your back. You respond and pull me against you, gently pressing your crotch against me. I wonder whether that's your programming too, although I didn't ask for some of the extra personality traits that are so fashionable. To me you're a human and the closest thing I have to my wife back. You live your life like me, to the point that I see you turn your nose up when we pass other, more obvious replicas in the street.
You can never know.
"Good morning, baby" you coo as you pull away from me, damp from my shower-wet body. You grab your robe and throw it on. "Coffee?" you ask over your shoulder as you walk to our kitchen. I nod my response.
I start towelling myself off and look around our spacious flat, decorated in the modern, simple style. One side is a big picture window, overlooking the city. The restructuring since the war is almost complete. I can just see the remains of old St Paul's Cathedral across the river, dwarfed by the new building, shining in the sunlight.
You return to the room with a mug of hot coffee, swaying your hips as you walk, a smile across your face. I sit on the bed, buttoning my shirt as you walk over...
(Write the next part via PM, and we can see where it goes...)
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