pleasure units, updated
Watched a film with friends the other night - The Island, an overblown crashandburn sci-fi with an at least potentially interesting but predictably handled storyline about cloning. In 2019 no less, an organisation is producing clones of filthy rich people who want to greatly lengthen their lifespans. The clones are used as spare parts, and kept in the dark about their fate, being told, when needed, that they're going to 'the island', which they're led to believe is the ultimate tourist destination. We all agreed that Blade Runner did this sort of thing much better years ago, though the themes were rather different. Anyway, all this got me to thinking about those sexy pleasure units of the earlier film, and it struck me that, if I was filthy rich, I might be more inclined to invest in one of those than a spare parts factory. I mean, instead of prolonging the agony, why not opt for a bit of ecstacy while we've got the wherewithal to enjoy it? All you'd need, presumably, is some reliable DNA samples from your fave sex symbols. Got a thing about Johnny Depp? Does Jude Law make you just want to sink to your knees? Are you a secret Bruce Willis tragic [you know who I'm talking about]? Yes, you too can decorate your boudoir with your favourite toyboy, implanted to offer a lifetime of devotion to your worthy self. Sure it'll cost you an arm and a leg, rather than the other way round, but who's counting? Certainly not Brucey baby and his mates, and they're the ones who really count, right?
I wouldn't mind investing in a Kate Beckinsale or two myself. Might have enough for a down-payment if I can make it to the end of the century