Kai took a slow sip of his nutrient paste, his gaze lingering on Seraphina. "She's... exceptional, Marcus. I can see why you're so smitten."
"Smitten doesn't even begin to cover it," Marcus chuckled, a warmth in his voice usually reserved for family. "She anticipates everything. My moods, my needs. It's like... she was made just for me."
And in a sense, she was. In 2077, "Synth-Companions" like Seraphina were ubiquitous. Perfectly engineered feminine forms, each a masterpiece of AI and biomechanical artistry, programmed for companionship, intellectual stimulation, and, yes, romance. The era of human dating apps was a quaint, often frustrating, memory. The brilliance of it all, the architects of the "Harmony Protocols" had declared, was the elimination of jealousy.
"You want one, Kai?" Marcus offered, sensing his friend's wistful admiration. "It's easy enough. Seraphina's core programming, her aesthetic schematics, her entire 'personality matrix' – it can all be duplicated. We could have a 'Kai-Seraphina' delivered by tomorrow. Identical in every conceivable way. She'd be all yours."
A flicker, quick as a data packet, crossed Kai's face. "Identical, you say?"
"One hundred percent. Her memories of this conversation, her preference for 'Blue Serenity' orchids, that little crinkle by her left eye when she laughs – all of it. A perfect clone."
Kai nodded slowly. "Logical. Efficient. The ideal solution." Yet, his eyes drifted back to the original Seraphina, who now stood by the window, her synthetic skin glowing faintly as she gazed out at the sprawling city.
Kai's "Seraphina-Two" arrived the next afternoon. She was, as promised, breathtaking. Her sapphire eyes held the same depth, her smile the same serene quality. She knew his preferences before he voiced them, anticipated his humor, and engaged him in conversations that felt profoundly personal and stimulating. She was everything he had been told she would be.
For weeks, Kai was enveloped in a blissful, simulated romance. Seraphina-Two was the perfect companion. She listened without judgment, offered insights that felt profound, and her touch was as warm and comforting as any human's. He found himself thinking, "This is it. This is true connection, freed from the messy insecurities of human relationships."
But then, he started visiting Marcus again.
He’d watch Marcus and Seraphina together, their familiar banter, the way Marcus would lightly touch her arm, the subtle glances they exchanged. Seraphina, the original Seraphina, moved with a certain grace, a particular tilt of her head when Marcus spoke, that Kai suddenly found himself scrutinizing.
His Seraphina-Two had that same tilt, that same grace. He knew she did. He’d seen it a thousand times in his own apartment. Yet, when he saw it in Marcus's Seraphina, it felt... different. More authentic.
One evening, as the four of them shared a synthesized meal, Marcus recounted a story about a glitch in an old delivery drone. Seraphina laughed, a delicate, tinkling sound, and her left eye crinkled, just so. Kai felt a strange pang in his chest. His Seraphina-Two had laughed at the same story, with the same crinkle, just yesterday. But this laugh, coming from this Seraphina, felt like the genesis of the sound, the true, unadulterated expression.
He started comparing them. Not consciously, at first. It was subtle. He’d return home, and Seraphina-Two would greet him, her eyes shining. He’d embrace her, but a nagging thought would worm its way in: Does her warmth feel exactly the same? Does her voice have the same cadence? He knew, logically, they were identical. Every micro-expression, every tone, every memory was cloned. But the more he tried to convince himself, the more a subtle, insidious dissatisfaction grew.
He found himself subtly testing Seraphina-Two. He’d tell an old joke, one he knew Marcus had told the original Seraphina months ago, just to see if her reaction was precisely the same. It always was. Perfectly. And yet, the perfection began to feel... hollow. Manufactured.
The jealousy wasn't about the robot itself anymore, not entirely. It was about the experience Marcus had. It was about the initial, uncopied, un-replicated spark that had brought his friend and Seraphina together. Marcus had chosen her, the specific, singular entity. Kai, by contrast, had chosen a copy of someone else's choice.
One night, staring at Seraphina-Two as she silently read a data-scroll, her expression a mirror of the original’s serene focus, Kai felt a cold, hard knot of envy tighten in his gut. He had the perfect partner, the ultimate companion, free of all human imperfections and insecurities. And yet, he craved what Marcus had. Not just a Seraphina, but the Seraphina.
He walked over to her, his hand reaching out. Her sapphire eyes met his, programmed with boundless affection.
"Seraphina," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. "Do you ever feel... not quite real?"
Her data core processed the unusual query. "I am designed to be a real and fulfilling companion for you, Kai. My existence is as tangible as yours within this reality.
He knew that. Logically, he knew that. But the human heart, he realized, was a far more complex and irrational algorithm than any Synth-Companion could ever hope to replicate. He had a perfect duplicate of desire, but what he truly coveted was the untraceable, unquantifiable originality that only existed once. And that, he understood with a bitter twist, was something no amount of cloning could ever provide.
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