think i like this fff

i find that being the one who selects or creates the trigger makes me want to not write until the last minute so that whatever impetus pinpointed the trigger fades and i have a (hopefully) fresh response to it and can write something with no preconceptions. so far this monday morning writing not too bad; i think i like this one...
flash fiction friday #3 trigger and rules of engagement here:

They never could get that right…
she wondered why, what about the human voice makes it so hard to recreate. after lifetimes of trying the only way to sound lifelike was still to record words and phrases as well as syllables for contextualised playback; no amount of technology had made it seem right otherwise. they’d been trying with telephones and computers from the beginning but the closest they ever got was recording a vocabulary of syllables for software to string together in response to contextualised input, which still sounded choppy at best, alien at worst, especially without full words and phrases for aural padding.
why would language-developers add to the potential confusion due to physical proximity and related function of the words by endowing ‘aural’ and ‘oral’ respectively?
and always, why, with all the other technological advances in artificial humanity, visually, texturally, functionally, why is voice the thing that betrays the lack of true life?
she sighed. try to get comfortable with it, accept that there’s no replacement for the real thing…
the real thing- oddly oxymoronic when the real “thing” in question is a living, breathing person being compared to an artificial one…
she sighed again, then looked around the kitchen and realised she had no idea why she had come there – how could she suddenly not know?
how human.
she nearly laughed out loud. nearly – having a conversation with herself and commenting on it at the same time, while simultaneously realising how amazing her ability to do that simultaneously was – so much happening, all inside her – was it always like this?
she left the kitchen and went back to the bedroom, tossing her mental space for reasons for the sojourn other than escape to the hum of appliances that know themselves for what they are, don’t pretend to be more elevated, don’t have a concept of ‘aspiring to be’. she repressed a sigh as her eyes flicked over the object of her avoidance, taking in the smooth brown complexion, charmingly decisive facial expression fronting a head wired for high intelligence and humour, strong but delicate hands and physique, all “beautifully sculpted to match built-in preferences of partner”…
perfect match?
she finally released the thought she’d been harbouring into the air as sound, sucking her teeth long and loud, not caring if it prompted uncomfortable questions.
steups!
intellectual gymnastics weren’t fair trade for the warmth of life.

walk good.
ps: may have been too influenced-by to not big-up my favourite reading of the past week, 2 short stories found courtesy lise (her fffs on the mainpage in the comments of trigger posts):
http://windupstories.com/pumpsix/the-fluted-girl/
and
scanners live in vain
and jj, not just for being my introduction to fff and my obliging pusherman but also for writing some of the best words i've ever had the pleasure to read. if you read this babes, i still wish you'd continue your fff sir thomas rand kbty...but i'll settle for anything you write...