As I like it.

As I like it.

“Now, Ladies, can you keep a secret? No, of courses you can't, that's why I’m telling you. Have I got a deal for you? Notice I said Ladies if you look around, you’ll not see a hairy chin in your midst. However, I think you will want to keep this secret among your gender, eschewing also those of indeterminate gender. This is why we are sequestered upon this island. You are the first of possibly many who have been given the chance to create something in your own image. No, not your physical image, but that image you have in your mind. I know this is true as you responded to my advertisement to that effect.

“I asked you if you had an ideal man in mind and in your replies, you indicated that you certainly had. You will be given the chance to demonstrate your dream of a ‘Soul-Mate, or whatever you'd like to call him.’”

Vincent Paul was a swash-buckling kind of scientist. He would venture where no sensible scientist would ever think of going. He was of the overt randy, but solicitous of a woman’s sexual welfare when he was servicing her. Although it was liable to be of a single encounter, he did his best to demonstrate to his temporary Belle that cavorting in an uninhibited manner should be embraced with enthusiasm and often. To date, the only grievance was that they don’t make many accomplished libertines such as he. This common complaint had triggered an urge to make interested women put their wishes in a manifestable form.

“Ladies, Mesdames, or whatever you want to call yourselves. You have said in the comprehensive survey you filled in, that you were heterosexual. You are also, as I determined, of high intelligence and should be quite capable of making your wishes known. There will be no terminating of our contract here for you to go home before the three months of the project is complete, because that’s how long it will take. However, what a bonus you’ll have.

“You will be creating life here, or a reasonable facsimile of it. You will be able, within reasonable parameters, to create for yourself a ‘Soul-Mate,’ down to the size and shape that can be duly recognised as such by our fellow humans.”

The twenty women chosen for the project on hearing this turned to each other with puzzled looks on their faces. These were intelligent women and suspected they were being fed a load of crap. Julia Cranshaw, a successful businesswoman stood up and addressed Vincent. She couldn’t help it, but there was a disbelieving sneer in her voice as she spoke.

“You say create, do you mean mould? Are you telling us that you’ve got a bunch of guys here that are going to be amenable to our wishes? Pardon me if I cast doubt that any man can be trained to pick up a tea-towel and voluntarily do the dishes without being nagged to do so?”

“Julia, Julia, what a jaundiced view you have of my sex. If I had the time, I’m sure I would have looked around for a tea-towel.”

Laughter broke out among the women, the ice had been broken.

“Julia, and the rest of you, I don’t mean mould in the sense you might mean it, I mean CREATE. You will be taking a lump of protoplasm and will be fashioning it into a desirable image that you consider is your ideal MAN! Imagine easily malleable plasticine formed to the shape you wish it. You must keep your image to an acceptable form, you’ll have to live with it, and so will he.”

“Pardon me if I don’t believe it. I don’t know what kind of ‘con’ this is, but it is a ‘con.’”

“Well, Julia, and ladies, let me introduce you to John and Mary. Come out here you two.”

An absolutely gorgeous woman and a ruggedly handsome six-foot three-inch man stood before the group.

“Here you see my ideas expressed into a physical realisation. They don’t mind being on display as I gave them ‘free will’ and intelligence that rivals my own. They are both less than five years old.”

Screams of laughter greeted this introduction of the beautiful pair. No one believed for an instant that they were not being fed a ‘crock of shit.’ John and Mary both held their hands high in the air to quell the disbelief that was rampant among the women. Mary spoke first.

“Let me demonstrate.” She turned to John in a pre-arranged movement and put her hand onto John’s midriff. He leaned over and Mary lifted him into the air to the gasps of the watching women and then she let out the beautiful notes of a familiar opera whilst walking around on the stage. With a little thrust of her arm, she tossed John onto the stage where he landed on his hands and proceeded to do press-ups in an upside-down position. The watching women were struck dumb with mouth’s wide open in disbelief. A laughing Vincent thanked the two magnificent creatures and they sat down with smiles on their faces.

“I thought this might cut through any bullshit you thought you might witness from me. Was I right?”

“Jesus Christ, Vincent. Where did you find them?” This was said by another stupefied woman of the group. “I love that opera. Are you trying to tell me Mary and John are your creations? Are you telling me that not only did God send his kid down to earth, but now he came himself?” 

This brought some self-conscious sucking in of breaths. These women may have been of above-average intelligence, but some retained the infection of early religious indoctrination.

“Just shows,” said Vincent, “Whoever started the living- ball rolling, we can do some of our own creations using the building blocks left lying around. However, let’s hear a little more from John and Mary.”

Unselfconciously, John and Mary stood up to address their audience. John took the lead.

“It is true, Vincent is our Dad.” Mary joined him in the laughter whilst nodding her head. “You could say he knocked me up with a bunch of very good protoplasm. I bless him for it. I feel as if, and I possibly am, as alive as anyone of you. I feel alive. I feel an urge to dive into the activities of humanity with the same enthusiasms as each one of you possess. If you prick me, I will bleed. If you cut my throat, I will die. However, I don’t want to get too serious, I’m grateful to Vincent. Whether engineered or not, when it becomes your turn to create your own ‘dream-man,’ he will be alive.” 

 Mary spoke up.

“I suppose I could develop phobias if I get exposed to overwhelming aspects in my life, but to date, I haven’t been aware of any. I enjoy a pretty full sexual life with John and Vincent and I give as good as I get.”

This brought some coughing and nervous laughter from the transfixed women watching and listening but still not able to let all this sink in.

“Vincent is encouraging us to go into the world at large and experience it. We both realise that we have an enormous advantage over most individuals as we have been created with many additional skills which are only developed over many years. Although we are beholden to Vincent for life, he has freed us from any obligation to him.”

Vincent thanked John and Mary and addressed the women.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? I assure you, you will be quite blase about this in a relatively short time. I think what you have seen with John and Mary is the responsibility that will fall upon your shoulders. Physically, you will be able to amend your physical creation before actual life is bestowed. But once the spark is produced that’s it. You women are my attempt to see if I can release this information to the world at large. Perhaps the provocation to be less than magnanimous to their creations will abound. I almost know the answer to these ponderings on this matter, but I need a greater certainty. Hence you are my first choice. I have chosen you as coming from the upper spectrum of human abilities and capabilities. Depending upon what your own deliberations bring forth, may possibly influence me whether or no I engage people of lesser intelligence to frame their desires.”

Julia, the original spokesperson for the group spoke up again.

“Speaking for myself, I am shocked. In fact, I feel overwhelmed. I’m existing in a state of disbelief. I can’t believe we are talking about the creation of life; LIFE! It’s not some simulation of life like we have with some of our appliances, no, real life. I still can’t believe you that Mary and John are the result of some kind of artificial fabrication. IT CAN’T BE SO. I can’t get my head around this, and now you are telling us that you are going to put this capability into our hands. Do your really fucking well know what you are doing. I want to go home. I’m scared shitless. I want to go, but I really want to stay. I don’t know if my words resonate with my other colleagues here in this, maybe a misadventure. I will let them speak for themselves.” Applause greeted this oration, and hear, hear.

Rebecca Goldstein stood up. “Oy vey,” she said to relieved laughter. “Julia said a mouthful. So we can be female Gods, is that what you are saying? You are talking about real life, not some pale imitation of it, the real thing? I don’t know if I want to participate, but who could turn down a chance to at least have a man the way we want him?” 

Screams of laughter greeted these remarks and there was a palpable easing of the tension in the room.

“It may turn out to be the greatest regret of life,” Rebecca continued. “To actually bring a live being - I can’t believe I’m saying this - a live being into existence. It ain’t like plasticine. Plasticine is just glorified mud, we’re talking real life here. I’ll hold my participation in abeyance for the present until I come to grips with it.” Grunts of approval came from the congregated women.

“I suppose I expected nothing different,” said Vincent, “I will be demonstrating an actual creation that I need to help me with my own work. If I get it right, she’ll be happy to help. However, she will have a mind of her own, and if she doesn’t want to, that will be up to her and I’ll have to do better next time,” he said, laughing.

The seriousness of what awaited the women had dissipated to some degree, and quips were being tossed around.

The reality of their venture came home to them when they saw the creation of Vincent’s come forth and they fully realised that every word he’d spoken to them had been the truth. After a tentative start, they got on with their own creations with gusto.

As women tend to be of a more practical ilk than most males, they made many proto-types before settling upon their final creations and to imbue them with life. It could be summed up as: Slightly taller or the same height as themselves. Well adorned, not in the ‘Horse-class,’ but certainly in the Shetland Pony domain. Wonderful massaging hands which inclined easily toward feet to rub, or shoulders to massage. A beautifully modulated voice which couldn’t raise above conversational decibels except when required to emphasise parts of stories for kids. But above all, the ability to LISTEN.