In his apartment overlooking the city, the designer, sitting at his desk, crossed his hands. His creative process was beginning to finalize his project, but he still felt that something was missing.

It has been only a week since he received the order. As the chief designer of the Hanaka Autonomous Division, his work was the presentation, to be the artist painting his canvas. In many ways, it was the most important job of all. Yes, there were engineers who assembled the parts and programmers who created the digital infrastructure that would allow to put in place all the mess, but without the designer, all would be for nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the interactive screen in front of him. The basic parameters were already defined: the model was female and its age was between 18 and 19 years old. Pretty easy.

The display of the screen presented him with a great spot of plexyfoam. At least that's how he called it. The substance resembled a marshmallow down, but under its milky white exterior was the company's revolutionary growth medium, capable of forming a smooth skin and similar to human skin on all angles. Not only that, but this material can also be used to create hair.

Beside the block, the display formed a 3D image of a standard female skull. The designer grabbed the plexyfoam and put it on the skull, working it carefully so that it spreads out in an even layer.

The first problem he faced was what the color of the skin should be. The plexyfoam could create tones in almost any color, but the internal policy dictated that only a few shades were acceptable. No red, green, purple or blue.

After careful consideration, the designer decided to go with white-vanilla white. It was not very creative, but he was impatient and wanted to go to the exciting part.

For starters, he began to squeeze and roll the plexyfoam to determine the size of the face. The end result gave him plenty of room to work, but not so much that it would look like a cheap Picasso.

The designer backed off when he thought about what feature he should do first. Maybe the ears? Or the eyes?

"The ears were more complicated." He thought deciding to start with the harder of the two.

He took two large folds of plexyfoam on each side of the head and stretched them into large curved shapes. He rubbed the edges to remove excess material, molded the inner channels, and put some of the excess fat on the bottom to make lobsters.

The head now had ears, but nothing else. The designer decided to make eyes then. He moved his thumbs forward and plunged them into the skull. By removing them, he classified the holes for the orbits. Armed with a black pencil, he made imitations of eyelashes and drew fine black eyebrows.

Now for the difficult part: the nose. As the designer knew, there were many, many different variations of how a face looked, and the nose was an integral part. He alone had to decide what the rest of the face would look like.

The designer began to make the nose of the woman, he made sure that it is perfect without forgetting the nostrils wanting it to be as human as possible in appearance. But it was not finished yet. The designer pinched and pulled the plexyfoam under the eyes, doing it in a curved shape. He gathered it until he gathered in a sweet pair of lips. A thin line between them gave the impression of a mouth.

He then used his material to smooth his chin, leaving no imperfections. With his palms, he began to spread the foam on the base of his head. He left flaps and folds of material to make a loose neck and throat, before pressing on some, it did not look stupid.

Contemplating what he had done, the designer found himself attracted by the beautiful face. His eyes were beckoning, framed perfectly by his eyelashes. The cheekbones, curved and firm, seemed almost to extend and retract, as if she were alive. The lips were practically made for the sweet taste of another.

The designer was trying to get rid of those thoughts, but he could not deny that his job was ... perfect. Yes, it was better than anything he had produced before. He felt like Da Vinci or Raphael, transforming soulless clay and pigment into the most elegant creatures.

The designer has to check his watch. He needed to sleep a bit if he had the strength to finish the morning. After the shower, he put on a sweatshirt and fell asleep under his blankets.

As he slept, a voice crossed his dreams. Such a beautiful voice, as he had never heard of before in his life. "My beloved..." The voice seemed to cry. "I'm ready for you. But first, you have to give me what I miss. You have to give me a shape."

The next morning, the designer checked his emails. The company had advanced the deadline. He had to present his work before noon that day.

After looking over his head, he decided to send it as is. In her eyes, she was ready for production.

But now, what would he do? The standard protocol insisted that any work produced for the company be destroyed later, to protect against espionage and others. But he could not help remembering the message he had heard last night. The exhortation to finish what he had begun.

" It's absurd. " He was thinking. "She's just a big piece of plexyfoam. A big piece of plexyfoam with eyes and a mouth. She could not be alive..."

The designer sipped his coffee, trying to figure out what to do next. Should not he be working on his next assignment?

But no matter what he felt, there was no denying that he had experienced something he had never felt before: attraction. And he was attracted to something that had no life, no soul, no body...

"That's it!" He thought. If he made a body for the head, maybe it would show how stupid he was. Once he would have done it, he would have realized that she was not human and he would finally be able to move on.

While accessing his archives, he raised his head. It was always exactly the same as yesterday, without any modifications. The designer ordered his computer to give him more plexyfoam as much as he could. He also ordered him to create a complete skeleton under the head, calibrated to fit.

After tinkering with the size of the skeleton, he began with the overall texture of the skin. He decided that it would be a uniform pale white, no part being darker than another.

The arms were shaped to be thin, but toned and healthy. The designer has carefully molded his hands, making his fingers the same muscle thickness as his arms. The same was done for his legs, while the feet and toes were allowed to be smaller and more delicate.

For two hours, the designer modeled his torso, leaving it somewhere between an hourglass and a pear. He gave her carved curves, and a belly button.

Then came the difficult part. The designer took a few minutes to pray for his soul before molding his chest. He made her a reasonable size, and made a little nipple in the center of everyone. His heart was pounding as he watched them.

Then he placed his hands between his thighs and formed a small vagina keeping his eyes as open as possible. When he finished, he quickly moved in front of her without checking further.

Her buttocks were kept smooth, but plump. The designer also took the time to give him back muscles, which seemed much more realistic than expected.

His work finished, the designer looked at his wife made of plexyfoam. That's when he realized his mistake. Instead of showing her how false and artificial it was, the body only made her more human. He could feel his guts tense each time he looked at her.

For days, the designer worked on everything he could think of. He drew ideas for new models. He went around, thinking of new projects. He drew. He did jumping jacks. He made his bed and cleaned all his apartment. He tried meditation, yoga, and even weightlifting.

Nothing helped. Every day he could feel the warmth of his wife's empty eyes on him, even through the fabric that covered her. Every night he was consumed by his cries of agony hearing him talk to him.

"Why don't you let me love you, as you loved me?" Questioned the voice between some scream of agony in the sleep and dreams of the designer.

After a week trying to ignore the problem, the designer removed the fabric. He ordered the computer to raise the woman.

He looked at his face. She had an expression of sadness because she could neither see his creator nor comfort him.

"What am I thinking?" Thought he. "She can not think where to smell, but the least I can do is give her sight."

He took and put pink glass eyes then two small balls of plexyfoam and sat at his desk, let placed over the eyes, using small blades to carve the eyelids on each of them and removed the excess exponent the glass eyes. When he finished, he stared at the woman's eyes and felt like a reassuring aura in her empty gaze.

Satisfied, he covered the computer and resumed his distractions. Two days later, however, he suddenly removed the fabric again and brought it back.

Taking a little more foam, he divides it into three parts. The first molded into large curved pieces, while the second was torn into several small pieces, which he individually shaped and inserted into the large pieces. The third piece was unfolded and carved. Spreading his mouth open, the designer found a great void. He placed a piece above and below, forming teeth and gums. He then placed the third piece between the two as a tongue. He closed it, and wrapped it up again with the fabric.

Three days later, he called her back. Exploiting the ability of the foam to produce human hair, he had spent hours creating long white hair. With scissors in his hand, he crossed the blanket until only a medium sized sheet remained. What he carefully placed on his bald scalp, unaware how ridiculous he seemed. Before his thoughts became hot again, he banished her once again.

As he was sleeping that night, the designer had a more vivid dream than anything he had seen before. The woman, her skin still white as milk, was lying next to him, her eyes deep in hers, her hair scattered on the pillow, her arms and legs hugging her.

Over time, the creator became more and more fascinated by the woman he had made. He went out and bought some nice dresses, which he made him wear to feel less unhealthy. He started eating his meals in front of her, making a long conversation. He stopped responding to updates and messages the company sent him daily, and even planned to run away with her. She was now the only thing he lived for, the only one who really cared about him.

But something still pestered him. Whatever he did, the woman remained what she always was: a sculpture. She did not respond to his words, could not compliment the things he brought her, or offer her eternal attention. The designer has fallen into depression and anger, equally saddened and furious that only an art project can love him. He wanted to make her a real person, but there was simply nothing to do. Even society would only be able to make a shallow android, devoid of human warmth or feeling.

One day, the designer leaves his apartment and ventures to the market, where a canal brings boats and products from all over the world. He found himself looking at the statue of an ancient goddess, whose name he did not know. Before he could stop, the words came out:

"Give me a woman just like the woman I carved." Says the designer a tear falling from his face at the foot of the statue.

Embarrassed, he ran to the house in tears and threw himself in his bed, where he sobbed with misery. He would always be alone. Nobody would ever love him, because he would never find someone as perfect as his wife.

As the night sky approached, he went out into his dark annex. He ordered the computer to bring him to him. But nothing happened.

To her horror, the woman was not in her archives. It had been erased, erased by an error or a mistake. The designer shouted and took a lamp, driving it across the screen. The sparks flew and there was a slight smell of smoke.

As he gasped, his eyes suddenly turned to the window. There, the woman got up, her face turned away from him.

"How it is possible ?" He thought. He approached and she turned to him. She was naked and her hair was now as white as her skin.

The designer pinched himself. It could not be real. It was a terrible nightmare, nothing more.

Her hands on her cheeks, she put her soft lips on the designer's.

He had waited so long for this moment. His fears and weaknesses vanished as he gave the affection for which she had begged him.

As he continued to taste it, he noticed something. A strange heat that was not his. Small cracks began to spread over his body, starting at his toes and back to his lips. The designer fell to his knees, unable to understand what was happening.

As he watched, his skin began to fall apart. Below, is the flesh of a pinkish hue. His cut nails formed on his fingers and toes. His lips turned pink, his eyes were pink and his hair was white with life. Her gaze turned to the designer as she leaned over and took his hands in hers.

Without a word, she led him to his bed and laid him down. She gave him a kiss filled with an incomparable passion as they took off his clothes and shared a night of passion making the neighbors scream to make less noise.

Years later, the old designer, in bed, waited for his hour, reminiscing with emotion how his life had unfolded.

His wife named herself Zero. She had given him five daughters, quintuplets yet so different in appearance that one might think that some are adopted, who to go with their mother were called One, Two, Three, Four, and Five. They are all present at his side as he became a great artist, and showed him love throughout his failures and setbacks. Despite the passage of time they have not changed since then for his wife since his creation, One and Four since their fifteenth birthday, Three since he was sixteen, and Two and Five since they were eighteen.

Their bodies no longer suffering the effects of time must witness the death of her husband for Zero, and their father for One, Two, Three, Four, and Five the loss of their father who has dedicated them to all six, his only painting made with his hands and last work he did based on their favorite heroic fantasy story.

He took advantage of his last minutes to sing a song from one of his favorite series: "Bella Ciao" gradually followed by his wife and daughters shedding tears for the old man who finally closed his eyes accepting the gentle embrace of death with a smile ... in the presence of his best creations.

His death was, in every sense of the word, a happy death.