illusions

“You’re not suppose to be looking in that direction,” scolds Arale to her sister perched on top of the Bluebird Cuddle Van. “We’re not suppose to know about such things.”

“I’m not. I’m looking over there. At the sunset.”

“The *water tower* is blocking your view of the sunset. Why do you care anyway? We’ll never have such monstrosities attached to our bodies.”

“Well… *you* won’t. You’re a robot.”

“Hey. Watch with the bad mouthing.”

“Well, you are. I built you when I was 6.”

“No you didn’t. I’m a child just like you.”

“But you never grow older. Do you?”

“No.”

“Then that’s usual, wouldn’t you say? How many inches have I grown since we’ve known each other?”

“17.3859.” Arale became aware that she is acting too robotic and backtracks here. “Approximately,” she tacks on, although she knows the figure is correct.”

“Alright, alright,” relents Tonya Two Egg. “You’re my sister. Flesh and bones.” She jumps off the van and hugs Arale tightly — suggestions of the metal parts within but not so much as to break the illusion. It was a top of the line kit, she remembered. The last present her real parents would ever give her.

They often used the vacated house formerly owned by their Uncle Dick as a base for exploring Mt. Tom, like today. “Sunset is over, my blood sister,” spoke Tonya Two Egg. “Time to go see what Harry is up to.”

“61.58…” Arale said, then realized she was unblurring the boundaries again. “… 34”, she couldn’t help adding on several seconds later to complete the calculation, though.

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Filed under *Second Life, Horizons

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