ProfitMature

It could feel its new form. Hands. Feet. Eyes. A nose.
Female. Young by their standards, even younger by his.
Her skin gave the same radiant glow as it had done when first programmed, her eyes silently adjusting to the room.

Francisco smiled. This was the product. This was the one thing only he could sell. He had the codes, he had the creator, and he had the keysto the digital kingdom that was Lola.
Such powerful circuitry and machinery designed to make the world better - to improve minds and save lives, to comfort the sick and bring about the golden age - fuck that. Money was at stake - cold, hard cash.
And he wanted it. All of it. Anything would do.
His ties cut, his wealth diminishing, his reputation on the line. What was he going to do? Let such an oppurtunity go to waste?

Now he had access to millions of copies of 'Lola'. An artifically intelligent "companion" - perfect. Unbreakable. Controllable. And, ultimately, disposable.
Oh, the skinny guy had whined - "Oh, it can think for itself - it's sentient - you can't do this - its immoral..." Funny how nobody had confronted him when real girls were on the line. His clients had gotten through them by the dozen daily.

But now? Now he could make some real cash. What, he thought to himself, can possibly go wrong?

The End

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