There was a girl, though only technically so. Externally, she was a blob of flesh, hardly recognisable as human, living in an old oversized incubator which no one could turn off due to some minor legal issue. She looked like a cliche monster out of a science fiction Z movie, but her mind was bright and shining. And finally someone took notice.
He was a young scout working for a big advertising company, looking for the Next New Thing. He visited prisons, asylums, retirement homes, schools, he even visited a zoo, but he didn’t strike gold until it occurred to him to look into one of those places which no one likes to think about, the hospital ward dedicated to the irrevocably mutated. And there he found her.
She had a charming personality. She could hold a conversation about anything which ever appeared on the net, anywhere, since she never did anything else but surfing. She could mimic any accent from any video ever uploaded to U2b. She was funny and smart and very quick on her – mental – feet.
He did not bother lying to her. The deal was simple: they’d connect her brain to the body of a wonderful woman, grown up in a vat for that purpose. She will have the most fun she could ever have. Hell, she will have the most fun anyone, anywhere, could have in an entire lifetime. She will become an instant celebrity, but not for her beauty: because everyone will know who she really is, everyone will also see, right by the image of the beautiful woman, snippets of her real body, the shapeless grotesque blob in the oversized incubator. The hospital ward will be redecorated and equipped with 24/7 cameras. A new sort of reality.
There’ll be product placements. Otherwise, what’s the point?
She said yes. Of course she did. What’s a bit of humiliation compared to having to spend the rest of your life in the same old stuffed place? Or to a chance of having actual human companionship for the first time? Or sex?
She said yes, and they plugged her in. She became a celebrity. She had human companionship. She spent a short forever talking, charming, dancing, sailing, acting, and, all that time, advertising. She had sex. She even had love. Her soul mate was the young star of a new soap opera. He wasn’t as dumb as he looked online. And all that time, the relentless cameras at the hospital ward streamed out the image of her real body, slowly pulsating under the cold, blue light.
The one thing that no one took into account was the possibility that someone would fall in love with her original body. He – it was later found that he was only one of millions of people hooked on the live feed from the hospital – sneaked into the stupidly unguarded ward in the middle of the night, read a bad poem of his own writing in the blob’s dysfunctional ears, and then opened the incubator and jumped inside in order to commune with his love. This severed the delicate microwires which connected the girl’s brain to the beautiful body. The body, a thousand miles away, in the middle of a well documented orgy, instantly collapsed. It took almost fifteen seconds for the nerve backfire shock to fry the girl’s brain. Her last feeling wasn’t too far from having the best orgasm any creature could have, ever. The spasms of her dying body crushed the intruder’s pelvis, then his skull. He died a happy man.
All in all, it was one of the best love stories of the time.