black and white

She definitely wasn't real. But she felt real. She felt as alive as she had the day she was born, but real? Not her. Of course, you must be a bit confused and far be if from me to suggest a history course. For all I know you're an expert in medieval wars or something like that. You could be. You can be anything you want. Unless, of course, you are not real. Then you can be anything you want except for real. It's not as bad as it sounds. She's not perfect. She's not plastic. In a crowd, she's just part of it. But the sperm and the egg that created her were created by a woman in a lab coat. Laws specified that she must be a random mix of desirable traits. And that she was. This for that and that for this. The world has no place for superheroes. The time for fortitude has passed. Anonimity rules. The new world motto reads: "I didn't do it". A name known is a name smeared. You can't make a mistake if you don't exist.
Her great great grandma told her fascinating stories about the outdoors and about "seeing" things but they lost their hold when she lost her childish imagination. She can't seem to comprehend why anyone would want to "see" when they could see anything they wanted right there in their home. She could count on her fingers how many times "fresh air" had reached her lungs. It was an effort to breath it in compared to the air they were accustomed to breathing. Leaves and trees and beaches and animals were just as lovely when you made them yourself. In fact, they were better.
Real and fake, truth and lie, good and bad. Her great great grandma spoke of these distinctions as though it was all that easy. The older she got, the less she understood her old relative's explainations. She listened patiently to her shaky and deliberate words, but couldn't seem to find a context for them in reality. This, she decided, was because reality had changed. As she watched the old woman take in her last breath, she noted how hard to detect any difference was. There she was, in the same old spot with the same old look on her face and the same old smell. But she was dead.
That was the truth. Any way you looked at it, she was dead. The girl wondered if she would die someday, too. Or perhaps when that time came, even death would cease to be so black and white.