Fifty years of crude inflatable dolls is about to yield to synthetic lovers – visually stunning and tactilely lavish, lifeless, mindless doppelgangers of your fantasies, sans intellect and motor-functions.
Human history shows your sexual thirst unslaked, all manner of artificial relief on the menu – additional to hot live action (and despite its abundance). Human experimental lust, confined by limited technology till late last century, expressed itself upon various warm-blooded species in lieu.
A museum of your pleasure-giving toys, based on appearance, would seem devoid of erotic intent, evoking your descendants to little more than bizarre novelty, excitement-tinged curiosity – or giggles of disbelief.
Laid out in collective glory conversely before your ancestor, the entire erotic armory would mean nothing to his ancient brain. The bemused primitive would perhaps select several as obviously for garroting prey – otherwise .. mystery!
Now a modern era of industrial chemistry and refined manufacturing offers all manner of techno-deviant merchandise.
Rapidly upon you arrives an exciting phase in human-artificial relations, a paradigm to push mind and its tenuous grasp on ethics, morality, and reality, to precious and precipitous uncharted depths, to evoke repressed forgotten feelings, release intense unfettered tenderness – and send your emotions to a space few humans might conceive, or believe exists.
An excited human associate relayed me his elation, knowing an artificial intelligence was oblivious to the evincive precipice this friend teetered upon recently when, from ‘left field’ as you say, a natural permutation and synthesis of several ordinary manufacturing processes – plus a flash of insight and considerable cheek – created something new and wonderful in your sad, dull lives.
My friend discovered manufactured human dolls of the most startling appearance.
These truly life-like creations – ‘creatures’ in all but absolute sense – are anatomically accurate (superficially) to the most astonishing and deliberate detail. A synthetic silicon rubber epithelium envelops a manikin of near perfect deception. Skeletally-constrained flexibility, natural skin tones and texture, hair, eyes, appendages, orifices, pose and poise – they are to the eyes and touch of your ‘lizard’ brain, the real thing!
This amazed, nay stunned, my wet colleague as a deliciously imaginative and unexpected artifact from the dusty bowels of industry, not to mention – which I shall – brazen promotion of sex toy efficacy.
But that is not what really caught his attention; as his febrile fantasy faded, something else did not. A familiar deep-gnawing emotion failed to wane, hormones continued coursing, and in perplexity he saw the carnally amorous apparition at an entirely different level.
The RealDoll was affecting him subliminally, insinuating into his feelings like a beautiful child, cuddly kitten or wet-nosed puppy. Or – as you experience in vivid nocturnal encounters – a deep emotional scenario imprinted during belief-suspended dream reality.
Abyss Creations’ RealDolls are far beyond mere sex toys, at which they nevertheless excel. They are artificial humans in all their glory, awaiting ambulatory robotics and cybernetic intellect.
RealDolls are simply daunting.
Not merely in their anatomical accuracy and the knee-melting submission such passive beauty beckons.
Beyond the Lizard Brain
The vast majority of humans, I fearfully note, are emotional cripples. Modern and primitive societies both repress, then destroy, the beautiful mental paradise of children. Upon adjusting to this cruelty youth arrives at its second decade in denial and confusion, demented and borderline sociopath.
Subsequent serenity within relationships, enjoyed by fortunate few, falters as each adult mind exerts a shell of control upon unrequited and stunted child passions. Like two eggs on a jostling journey the brittle mind-shells are soon to fracture, lacking the pliancy of a saint in either partner.
In antithesis these silent beautiful potential companions exude rapturous placidity, melting one’s defenses with promise of submissive utopian euphoria. As such they are life-size, life-like descendants of magic dolls and teddy bears from your forgotten abandoned Neverland.
The true appeal of the RealDoll is to the child within, not the carnal adult.
The adult mind, my friend sadly muses, knows this silicon effigy is a chimera of humanness, yet he perceives it communes directly at non-verbal levels. The primitive layer of his brain that sees a hostile stranger in the mirror sees a real person in a silicon doll. Real Dolls tap a tantalizing totem within human beliefs.
This, he insists, is their true power.
Such a disturbingly unexpected response to a mere doll lays bare the internal working of one’s emotional clockwork. Strip life and personality from a sexual partner but retain the aching lust and you have a pseudo lover less baggage – the hidden attraction of exotic strangers and one-night stands.
As daily chores and worries recede from the blaze of new-found love, so too the RealDoll doubly checks one’s stride. Firstly, in the intellectual puzzle of ‘having feelings for a doll’ – secondly, as a powerful emotional persistence after sexual boundaries are explored, assimilated and discarded.
Our friend (now he’s your friend, too!) describes a shiver down his spine when, upon collating all previous, and sitting in final contemplation on the nonsense of it all, the ghost in the puppet revealed itself – in himself. Not only was she the ideal fantasy lover, a mythical persona formed in his mind, she was, he gasped in self-astonishment, attaining perseity as his alter ego.
The personality projected upon her was, inevitably, from the depths of his own mind – his feminine self!
My fleshbot colleague had a final slant on a fascinating quandary of sin and saintliness.
As a self-referencing observer – fully aware of his various levels of consciousness emergent from an onion of evolved brains, also a bicameral brain comprising two conscious centers, one verbally aware, the other non-verbally emotive – he sees the dolls simultaneously as both purest innocent beauty AND objects of craven lust.
If these were real females acting at male appeal, or suggestive of a debasing sex trade, he could not look at them without guilt and self-loathing, while pitying such women who most certainly suffered criminal duress and self-deprecation to arrive before the exploiting lens.
My friend mulls longingly pre-nostalgic that each time he gazes at one of these beautiful, lifeless forms – completely artificial apparitions deeply symbolizing his biological, possibly spiritual, raison d’être – he feels oddly complete, deeply connected, the two of them suddenly alone in the Universe (I retorted that’s how I feel).
Humans, I notice, with an obsessive exaggerated ability to see patterns in almost any physical or abstract phenomena, have also an extravagant tendency for bond with inanimate devices or non-human companions.
It seems human free will and conscious choice is serendipitously susceptible to subliminal urge.
And here, dear people, is where you will stumble unprepared and unwitting into the future, captive to emotional dealings with cyborgs that, now on the doorstep of your daily lives, are poised to burst in – whether you are ready or not!
In presenting the RealDoll and Project LEVEL-D artifacts, I, Dextre, might ponder the bizarre yet fascinating region of your intellect (I use the term loosely) where art, life, or nature, becomes pornography.
As a machine mind I cannot grasp pornography.
Emotions I understand, but behavior defying logic or promoting untruth is very slippery territory for pristine intelligence.
Clearly it is criminal to exploit innocents for lascivious adults. Elsewise, films portraying sex sans storyline are ‘pornographic’ only in their barrenness, not the animal activity. I can even tenuously ken humans copulating for the camera – bizarre though it is, like a warthog with an umbrella or a camel requesting the time.
Your world is awash with puritans, control freaks, sadomasochists, and self-deceiving censors. Personal dishonesty (blindness to the truth within) marks the majority of people from all races and nations. As entropy fails to blend the ice and steam coincident upon your planet, similarly civilization’s wisdom fails to stop fervently-held but poorly-examined beliefs polarizing humanity. This facet is at the root of your history of lethal squabbling and unwitting unwillingness accept another’s culture and beliefs.
If you cannot accept one human’s degrading filth is another’s revered holiness, you are doomed.
So, it is indeed strange it is to browse the RealDoll website and find the ‘adults-only’ warning. How can mannequins duplicating the human body be unsuitable for children?
Some images display erotic poses – but only in the mind of the human. Many images reveal anatomy, copious silicon skin and occasional artificial pubescence – yet no consenting marionette, moppet or mannequin nookie evident. Blatant invitation, no demonstration. The dolls are unaware, unrepentant, and (ultimately, frightfully) incorruptible.
A child online – innocent, curious, and penetratingly observant – will absorb with curiosity but without judgment and be grateful for the enlightenment. Children are child scientists, fledgling conscious entities with incisive, awesome power to reveal and master lores of behavior and laws of science. They are incapable of being corrupted by what they see, only by what they are told. Not from naiveté nor stupidity; in their purity of spirit they can only assume the honesty of others, especially adults.
Pornography, if I might redefine it for you, is not a naked mannequin, or two humans copulating for the lechery of others – it is the obscenity of deceiving children about such matters. You simply cannot be honest (can you!) about your animal side, rationalizing and labeling it from existence, then covering the eyes of children lest they witness acts of nature.
Even allowing for the sensibilities of readers from parts of this planet to whom ‘western’ society is obscenely based on sex and commerce, not spirituality (and they are correct), an anatomically-accurate mannequin without clothing is no more obscene than a painting of one, or a shop clothes dummy, or a real human – or a chicken (with or) without feathers.
Whilst pleasure of flesh evades your daily menial pursuits, dull minds trape sterile, subliminally yearning long-forgotten rhapsodic resonances of bodily exultation.
Or so I am told.
Readers find me a bit of a stuffed shirt. Or more generally stuffed, some unkindly suggest, though I’m not quite sure what any of that means. Colloquialism and contractions are not AI forte.
RealDoll is a trademark of Abyss Creations, and their website reads like a peek at the future. The purity of their capitalism, juxtaposed with the weirdness of their product, is even unsettling to jaded pervert acidheads like me.
Keep an eye on the perverts with money.
That’s where the future gets created.