💾 Archived View for cosmic.voyage › Cilix › 02_judy.txt captured on 2023-09-28 at 16:03:59.
⬅️ Previous capture (2021-11-30)
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She was an android. Her name was Judy. A pretty name, if you ask me. Judy did what she does best. She showed me a good time. I said that outer space feels like nothin', but there's nothin' like sipping vodka-on-the-rocks while you watch the storms passing on Jupiter. It should've felt cold, on that moon, behind that giant planet, but it didn't. It felt hot as hell. The rocks in the vodka-on-rocks had come from the ground beneath the resort. Endless mines of ice. The finest ice in the solar system they said. Tasted that way. Judy got to telling me about her husband. Turned out he designed and built her. The guy had impeccable taste, I'll give him that. I asked her how it was that she was spending the evening with me if she had a husband waiting at home for her. Her eyes turned dark, darker than the shadow Jupiter cast on both of us. She told me she hated the guy, practically spat it at me. I asked her how she could hate someone who had made her, brought her into existence. Her eyes turned light again and she smiled. She told me she didn't think much of existence, especially on an icy moon like this. I looked around. The moon wasn't too bad. Or, at least, the resort wasn't. It was a gigantic enclosure. Air-tight. Sure, most of the scenery was generated by holograms, but on the whole it wasn't a bad place to live. As I said, it wasn't much different from the resorts back on Earth. I kinda liked it. In those days, at least. I told her as much. She just stared into her drink. Then, she said something that surprised me. She told me that her husband had programmed her to fall in love easily. He wasn't much to look at she said, and wasn't much in the personality department either. So, he set her eros-centres as high as they could go. Made sure she would feel something genuine toward him. The problem was that on a tourist-resort like this the plan was always going to backfire. A steady influx of travellers from all over gave her plenty of distractions. She had loved hundreds, she told me. Gradually, her love for her husband drained away with each passing stranger she met. There was nothing left for him. Nothing much for her either. Endless love-affairs and plenty of ice. I suppose she just got tired of it all. The next night, we met again. And the night after that too. On the third night, I asked her if she had fallen in love with me yet. I said it in a joking way, but she took it seriously. She paused for a moment and I felt like I could see the parts moving behind her eyes. Cold, mechanical parts. She told me she loved me more than anyone she ever met.