"I like this one more…" The Academic casually peers upwards from the luminous flame of the Bunsen burner placed beneath varying volatile solutions towards his creations lying within a crippled mass upon the marble.
"Oh?" is his only reply before focusing his attention upon his experiment once more in a single fleeting motion. How intriguing; it believes it possesses feeling now.
The replica nods fervently; a strange motion for a machine with a small number of damaged collar hinges. "Yeah. She has something that the other one could never have."
"Really? And what may that be?" The scientist feigns interest that never could truly exist in the first place as he raises the temperature of the flames to an indigo inferno. Why not humor it? It was his Riku, after all.
The following crash nearly results in various acids and bases devouring the marble flooring, and only the nobody's advantage over ice prevents the beakers and their contents from connecting with the delicate stone. "Damn it, Replica," he murmurs in a hushed spout of non-existent frustration as he fully extinguishes the flame and shuffles toward the twitching heap. "I sometimes wonder if your likeness is too analogous; just as headstrong as the boy himself!"
The infant is learning. It attempts to place a quivering caress upon the elder replica's cheek with a miniscule emission of sound from its synthetic throat. At the very least, its vocal cords are beginning to adjust.
The Academic huffs as he readjusts legs twisted so unnaturally that he would cringe upon the sight if he still possessed his heart. XII, that damn neophyte! Playing so roughly with his delicate creations! "Do not dare to attempt that again."
The elder replica huffs as he pauses to rest his head upon the thighs of the so-called infant above him. "I was only trying to show you." There is a sickening pop! as the steel joints once more connect. The infant cries out before clinging to the one its non-original original falsely labels as her "hero". 'He' shushes 'her' with a gentle squeeze of the hand before rising onto stable elbows. "Here."
It firmly grasps its creator's gloved hand before bringing it towards its destination. The scientist virtually swallows his tongue as his fingers come to rest upon the infant's left breast. He can't even call it a breast, it is nothing more than softened plaster and flexible wire encased within synthetic rubber and covered by white cotton and extended blonde tresses. True, he lacks morals at the lack of a heart, but nonetheless this was becoming awkw-.
And then he is hurtled violently into the barrier of realization.
A steady, monotone thud.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"… A heartbeat," he murmurs with a raised brow as he gently pries his hand from that of the replica. No, not a heartbeat; a pulse of machinery. A flexing container of steel and bolts and non-living creations existing solely to radiate the illusion of inhalation as well as exhalation. An illusion for the naïve.
An illusion for those unprepared.
The silver-haired replica nods in an awkward motion with an exhilarated grin. "Yeah! I can make this one happy! She can feel so safe and secure and wanted!" The scientist looks on inquisitively as it presses its ear against the source of the sound with a serene expression. "That's what I need… Yeah… Something that the other Riku could never have…" It inhales deeply as it relishes within the false evidence of true existence.
The reassurance of more than an empty existence.
"She needs me…" it murmurs as it falls into its equivalent of unconsciousness.
"She needs me…"
Written to Mad World by Gary Jules and Room of Angels by Akira Yamaoka. Fantastic inspiration music, it be. Reviews would be eternally appreciated.