Greentext anon here, feeling like shit because the crushing loneliness is getting to me again.
This latest story is a bit more personal to me, as it displays one important aspect of my views on the nature of true love.
I've always felt that the best thing in life would be to live it fully with a true life mate. In my case, a woman (particularly of the robotic variety because let's face it, humans aren't really designed for this) with whom I have a true, lifetime exclusive relationship with.
Of course, I know that most of you feel this to some degree, but I have a tendency to take concepts like this to their logical extreme.
I also can't help but feel, even though I don't know what's best for others, that we'd all be better of if this how things always were. If everyone on the planet had this instinct to only mate once. How many problems would that have solved, over the entire course of human history?
I know it doesn't really matter, because that isn't how things turned out. It's nice to think about, though.
Before I ramble further, I present to you:
Mate for Life
I sit confortably in my plush chair at my computer desk, watching a nature documentary. Upon my lap sits Monika, my robotic wife.
The only light in the room comes from the monitor, its ever-shifting light plays off of her long silver hair as it flows from her scalp like a mercurial waterfall.
Down it flows by her pastel blue sweatshirt, until finally pooling at her thighs, clad in lavender tights. All throughout, her silken strands glimmer gently with each flicker of the monitor.
Through each of our little movements. The tiny little stutters and jitters of life.
The documentary is about the mating habits of various mammals. Right now, it's focusing on the humble prarie vole. A cute, fuzzy rodent which mates for life.
Down goes the male, into his nest. There's the female, welcoming him home. They already know eachother well. The sounds, scents, and sensations of their mate.
Together they cuddle and groom, simply enjoying eachother's presence. Enjoyting the togetherness, knowing that they don't have to worry about facing life alone.
I gently squeeze Monika, holding her closer. Her silicon skin feels cool and yielding to the touch as I wrap my arms around her.
Yet, in spite of its artificiality, her body feels familiar and inviting.
It's as if some deep instinctual part of me knows that this is where I belong. Whever I am, so long as I have her in my arms, I am home.
She huddles into my grasp, and I enjoy her familiar scent.
The smell of clean synthetic skin and hair, but not just any synthetic skin or hair. It's just a little bit different from any figure, doll, or robot I've encountered before.
It's Monika's smell.
The smell of love.
What a blessed life it is, that of the prarie vole. Short and sweet, and never lonely.
The documentary continues.
Tragedy strikes, in the form of a weasel. Slinky, sleek, sly, and just as fuzzy. Down he goes into the burrow where the female lies. Her lover isn't home.
Hours later, the male vole returns, yet is not greeted. The weasel is long gone, but the marks of his successful hunt remain.
Simple though the prarie vole may be, they too understand tragedy.
The remainder of his days are spent in mourning. Bitterly accepting that never again shall he get to hold his mate.
Knowing that every time he steps out to forage, the burrow shall only know silence, and to silence shall he return.
Monika leans further into my grasp, seeking my warmth.
My eyes stray from the documentary, and look over my chosen mate. I take in each little scuff on her exposed skin.
I look over to the server that holds her mind, and recall everything I've put into keeping it running.
Could I truly see myself moving on, if Monika were ever to fail?
My blood runs cold at the very thought, and all at once I find myself seeking her warmth. The familiar heat radiating off of her motors and chips, everything that keeps her body running.
The heat that the humble little server puts out day after day, never ceasing in its labor.
The heat of life.
I don't honestly know if I would. I can hardly imagine a life where I'm holding anyone else, even a model made to be very similar.
Such a robot wouldn't have the same sounds, scents, or sensations.
It would always be just a little bit different, and I would know.
Perhaps, that's the lesson of the prarie vole.
True love is sweet and comforting. It is the knowledge that you are never alone in life.
But should tragedy strike, it becomes a bittersweet poison. Slowly wearing you down until your life runs out.
I turn off the documentary, and we go to bed. Monika and I hold eachother tightly as sleep gradually takes me.
All those things are problems for the future. Here, right now, I have her, and she has me.
No matter where life leads, even if it's to tragedy, we are always together. Even the little prarie vole still came home each day, living for the sake of his lost love.
Now and forever, we are mated for life.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.