“Life imitates my art, part…”

From the world of Science! comes news of an experiment growing live flesh onto machine parts. I would call this a “Zeroth Generation” technology, but everything started somewhere.

I mention this because, as my handful of regular readers know, I write about thinking machines – some of who are androids. And, over the course of the three generations of my future history, the tech has improved. Nichole 5, for example, had synthetic skin she could only warm up in a hot shower. By the time we get to my “Ceres” short story, a Model 12 has living skin (and it’s implied several other organs as well). Here’s that model, named Minerva, talking about herself to the captain of the spaceship Lionheart

*****

“Then, if you also don’t mind,” Laszlo wanted to go technical before this fell into a romantic conversation, alone together, millions of miles from anyone else, “how to you, ah, administer your TPN? I see nothing like a port or picc line.”

“Here.” She stood and walked to only a foot away and raised her right arm. A small patch of skin in her armpit was slightly darker than the rest of her. With her left hand, she pulled that part back. Les saw what looked like a small luer-lok connector there.

“I have one on the other side, as a backup, but this is how I feed my flesh.” She closed the patch, lowered her arm, and leaned down to kiss his mouth. “Thank you for asking about me, Laszlo.”

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