A metallic touch, spray painted lips fire engine red #FF0000. Medium length nails French beige #FFE6CC and hair caramel brown #C28547.

And he gloats over his creation, whispers words in her ears. His Robot rewards him with an absent, perplexing smile. So almost real, so feeling and almost true. He chokes:
“I can make you almost human. I’ll weave you a blanket of humanity and almost raw emotion,”

Registering the command, she inputs function 185 and laughs. Robotic, metallic, inhuman. Creaking as she raises a hand to her metallic mouth and her body shakes in an amazingly robotic way. Random words jangle from her throat of steel and she almost giggles and replies:
“She says, welcome, and how are you, but it tastes like yesterday, the incense of fright tainting once sickly sweet air. While children scream in the background with chunks of their cheeks pulled out softly from flesh,”.

So The Creator wishes her hands porcelain, flesh pink #FFE6CC would turn wrinkly and soapy from washing his dishes and cleaning his clothes. Her throat becoming as dry as a desert from all the loud epiphanies she computes. Head in his hands, knees hit the ground, clawing at his own human skin he wails “Just turn human like that wooden movie boy! Love me like a human does, stay with me like a human does,”. In circles he paces, hands behind back, almost comical in his frustration and features all twisted. Repeating in a sing-song voice “Just turn human like magic, human like magic,” feeling like a almost normal human being. His creation is not perfect, it isn’t fine. It needs to be human, human, human.

And, His Robot computes, what is this almost emotion? Function 296 informs her it is almost, almost curiosity. But, wait, computers cannot feel. Cannot computers feel, feel computers cannot, computers feel cannot…
A slight error in her circuits which she self-corrects almost. Computers cannot feel. His Robot smiles vacantly and says “Would you care for some tea?”
A tired look from The Creator as he tries again to bring her to life with sweet words spat in her ear and in his desperateness he drags broken sharp nails down her perfect smooth arms and makes scratches, scars only a human would feel. “You were built on dreams and patience! Now have dreams and patience,” and he begs her to be human as she computes his actions…

Another error in her parts, what is this again? Her almost mind ACER hardrive model no. 7601 spinning, confused, the last straw for her mediocre robot almost brain. Rocking back and forth she informs Her Creator in a monotone voice, it’s an emergency:
COMPUTER MALFUNCTION ERROR.
ERROR MALFUNCTION COMPUTER.
MALFUNCTION COMPUTER ERROR.

She cannot correct it this time and as Her Creator yells and cries “Wait, no. Don’t go yet, I’m not finished with making you almost human!” she has no function choice but to end program ‘Attempt At Humanity’ in drive (C:). Shutting down, collapsing forward, parts and pieces having no use at all. Lights Lightica light globes, 60 watts in her eyes dim and finally switch off and she says, lastly, in a fading metallic voice: “Fatal error… Ending Program,”

A strange silence in the room as The Creator witnesses computer death. Can you give something that never lived a funeral? Can you tell someone who never loved you loved them? He stashes away her computer corpse in his computer grave yard and inputs data to his own non-robot computer:
Name: —
DOC Date Of Creation: November 20, 2006
Model No.: 0391
Comments Optional: Robots cannot be human. Impossible.

He sits rigidly in a corner as her repeats in a whisper filled with contempt “She was almost human, almost human. Almost,”. He feels like the broken artist, who works with wires and machines , creates his works of art and calls them lovers. She was almost human.

Almost.