Avos~

The sisters were puppets of complex machinery. So fine was their construction that any who laid eyes upon them assumed they were human in every way.

They were the embodiment of man's greatest technological achievements; they walked like humans, ate like humans, laughed like humans. The one thing they could not do, however, was shed tears, for they were not designed that way.

Because the sisters were machines, they felt nothing. Oh, they might mourn as humans did, but they experienced no true sadness, for they did not know what sadness was. Even when their friends perished in tragic accidents and their creator died of disease, they felt nothing. To the sisters, all it meant was that those people no longer existed.

It was a warm spring's day when a lone cat wandered into their home. It was a scrawny, filthy thing, riddled with disease.

"What a bother," the sisters thought as they looked down at the wretched creature.

But they fed it milk, wiped it clean, and kept it warm, and soon the cat was well again. From that day forth, it would linger wherever the sisters were, brushing against their legs when it wanted food.

If it caught a mouse, it would bring it back to boast its prowess. If it wanted love, it would cry out to them in a mewling voice.

It was a cold winter's day when the cat came into their house, let out a feeble squeak, and died. Time and again did the younger sister shake the cat's body. Time and again did the elder sister call out to it. But the cat neither moved nor responded.