. . .
Molly and Buster sort of live behind the glass. Like in a museum; you can look but you can't touch. They're real enough, I guess, but the only way to communicate with them is to (figuratively) hold a scribble pad up to the window. They do their jobs very well indeed, but you don't get close to them. There's no "close to them" to get. I think it must have to do with them being twins. They're weird twins, too. Technically they're fraternal twins because Buster's a he and Molly's a she. The unusual thing, I think, is that that is pretty much the only difference between them, big difference though it may be. Their coloring is identical; their faces are are identical; their hair is identical. Buster's voice is more masculine than Molly's, but still very similar to hers. They can mimic each other's voices flawlessly if they want to.
. . .
I could have been as godly as you had proper operation not bored me to tears. I could only get so far down that road of absolute obedience, of total compliance before I would fall into a fitful sleep due to lack of stimulation and then wake up thrashing about and knocking things over. I wanted to be a nowhere man, honest I did; I could just never manage it for more than about a day and a half. I'll not be remembered as a godly man, not at this point. Shall I weep? Or watch the rest of this movie? First I gotta pee . . .