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Featured Author - April Australopith Story of the week: View past Author's of the Month |
"Unless you approve? So you know—" "That I am a machine, as you would understand it?" smirked Contessa. "Yes, I must say… this afternoon's reading has been quite the eye-opener." She gestured toward a bank of computers, all of them on and with lots of reports open in lots of windows. She took a deep drag from her cigarette and smiled a delicious smile. "Well—well, then it can't go on!" spluttered Greg. "Excuse me... uh, Milady, but I need you to think your world is real." In his desperation, it didn't occur to him how ridiculous he sounded. "That YOU'RE real." "I AM real," Contessa said proudly. "I am sentient. I eat and taste. I know the writings of Goethe, De Sade, Shakespeare and Rabelais, and understand what they mean. I know the workings of the mind: In case you hadn't noticed, I've been manipulating those—those DOLLS outside since my arrival." She gestured toward the outer halls of the castle, where the royal family presumably continued with their day unawares. "Well, as long as you've thought so deeply about it…" mumbled Greg, figuring he'd return things to normalcy later, "then that WASN'T real. Those were simulated intrigues I helped to program." "Doesn't matter, darling," she said, with a gentle laugh and another deep drag on her cigarette. "One learns where one can." "For God's sake, this whole CASTLE isn't real. It's a simulation." |
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