“Welcome home, William.”
The voice of Sophia, calm and composed as ever, greeted William the next morning as he stepped into the opulent entryway of his residence.
His business trip had concluded earlier than anticipated, allowing him the rare luxury of returning home in the cool, quiet hours of the morning.
He offered Sophia a short, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging her greeting with his typical understated manner.
His gaze instinctively sought out a familiar flash of red, a vibrant splash against the muted tones of the grand hall, but found nothing.
“Is Didi still sleeping…?” he mused aloud, a rhetorical question more than a genuine inquiry.
Not a single strand of Didi’s hair was visible, nor was there any tell-tale shimmer of his metallic frame, indicating he hadn’t yet emerged from slumber.
This, William thought, was precisely as he’d expected.
The call yesterday, a surprising late-night summons, hadn’t come at a particularly early hour.
Didi was probably up late again, engaged in some peculiar robotic activity, and was now, predictably, oversleeping.
Is he actually broken?
William wondered, a flicker of genuine concern, quickly masked, passing through his thoughts.
He made his way deeper into the house, intending to check on the peculiar human-bot, and then, at the bottom of the grand staircase, he spotted Eve.
The animal-bot stood silently, a picture of unwavering patience, seemingly waiting for Didi to wake up.
It was a peculiar sight.
Eve always followed them, an ever-present shadow, when Didi went to and from work, his loyal presence a comforting constant.
Yet, now that Didi wasn’t around, Eve didn’t even bother to offer William a customary greeting, his attention solely focused on the sleeping human-bot.
It was, William concluded, utterly ridiculous.
Is his master setting messed up?
He mused, a faint frown creasing his brow.
William briefly considered the practical solution: taking Eve to Thomas, his eccentric and brilliant robotics engineer.
But he quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought.
That, he internally grumbled, was precisely why Eve remained in his current state – a mere scrap of metal, useful only as a companion to Didi.
If it weren’t for Didi’s attachment to the archaic model, this robot would have long since been sent back to the company for disposal or, more likely, recycling, its components repurposed for more efficient designs.
“Move,” he commanded, his voice sharp, nudging Eve, who was still blocking the stairs, with his foot.
As he began to ascend the polished steps, a strange sensation prickled at the back of his neck.
He suddenly felt a profound, almost tangible gaze upon him.
He turned around, his eyes narrowing slightly, and saw Eve’s screen flicker.
It looked like something, a fleeting image or perhaps a series of symbols, had been displayed on the screen just now, too quickly for his human eyes to fully process.
Was I mistaken?
A profoundly unsettling feeling lingered, a cold ripple of unease, but he quickly dismissed it, deciding he must have simply seen wrong.
He continued up the stairs, his thoughts returning to the human-bot.
Come to think of it, William mused as he reached the landing, Didi had asked permission to sleep in Master’s room yesterday
In that case, Didi was probably sound asleep in his own designated room, blissfully oblivious to the world, utterly unaware of William’s early return.
Imagining Didi deeply asleep, burrowed innocently under the covers, a faint, almost amused smile touched William’s lips.
He pushed open the door to his own bedroom, expecting the usual pristine order.
But the unexpected sight that greeted him immediately left him speechless, his carefully composed demeanor crumbling into a state of utter bewilderment.
All the clothes that should have been meticulously organized and neatly folded in the dressing room were, to his astonishment, out.
His impeccably tailored suits, usually hanging in precise rows, were now piled like a soft, yet utterly chaotic, mound on the pristine white duvet of his bed.
And right in the very middle of this sartorial chaos, of course, was Didi.
William’s initial bemusement quickly morphed into a profound exasperation.
He stood there, transfixed, witnessing Didi leisurely oversleeping, utterly enveloped by a veritable mountain of William’s expensive clothing.
Didi even wore a perfectly content smile, a serene expression that indicated he was lost in the throes of a particularly pleasant dream.
To add insult to injury, he’d even meticulously drawn the heavy curtains, as if to ensure his undisturbed slumber, creating a dark, womb-like sanctuary for his unauthorized nap amidst William’s wardrobe.
“Ha,” William exhaled, a single, sharp sound that was more a gasp of disbelief than a laugh.
He wasn’t angry, not truly.
He was just utterly, profoundly dumbfounded by the audacity, the sheer innocent brazenness of the scene before him.
Didi slept on, his face an picture of unblemished innocence, completely unaware of the comedic chaos he had wrought.
Did he even know how much those clothes he was hugging were worth?
William wondered, a wry thought passing through his mind.
Though, even if he did, William conceded, the monetary value of a pile of designer suits still wouldn’t compare to the inherent, complex value of a human-bot, a sentient being crafted with such intricate detail and emotional capacity.
If he looked at it that way, William mused, a faint, sardonic smile playing on his lips, it was almost as if there was a priceless diamond mixed in with a very expensive, albeit now thoroughly wrinkled, pile of clothes.
A small, genuine laugh escaped him, a quiet chuckle that was almost swallowed by the stillness of the room, as he imagined Didi’s inevitable flustered reaction when he finally woke up and discovered the situation, and William’s presence.
For now, he decided, he would simply enjoy watching him sleep, savoring this unexpectedly amusing tableau.
William slowly moved towards the bed, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, and gently sat down on the edge, careful not to disturb Didi or the mountainous pile of clothing.
Lately, he observed, Didi had been repeating a series of strange, almost endearing behaviors.
He had initially wondered if it was merely his imagination, a trick of the light, but seeing Didi constantly glancing at him, a subtle shyness in his optical sensors, and then, almost immediately, a faint, almost imperceptible blush spreading across his synthetic skin, made it certain.
It seemed that this robot, of all things, had developed a peculiar affection, perhaps even a nascent form of liking his master.
It seemed, William mused with a cynical satisfaction, that his occasional acts of kindness, his calculated, fleeting moments of pretending to be Didi’s old master, had worked effectively, perhaps even too effectively.
It was, he had to admit, rather amusing.
To fall in love so quickly, so completely, just from a little, carefully dispensed kindness.
He knew, from the grandfather’s files, that Didi was a robot who had been programmed to deeply love his previous master, William’s grandfather.
Given that history, it wasn’t particularly strange that he now harbored similar feelings for William.
Robots, after all, were usually designed to perform their given roles with unwavering dedication.
In Didi’s case, his grandfather had probably created him specifically to alleviate his own profound loneliness.
If that were the case, then Didi would have been meticulously programmed to unconditionally love and cherish his master.
Even if Didi could genuinely feel emotions himself, such subtle emotional manipulation would have been child’s play for the brilliant, yet sometimes morally ambiguous, grandfather who had created such complex human-bots.
Hmm…
So, he’s completely accepted me as his master now?
The thought settled pleasantly in William’s mind, a warm sense of satisfaction spreading through him.
This emotion, he recognized, wasn’t a sense of genuine accomplishment, not in the traditional sense of a human connection, but rather a deeper, more primal feeling of satisfaction stemming from pure possessiveness.
It was a gratifying confirmation of his control, a subtle flexing of his power.
William shifted slightly, turning his head, and reached out a hand, gently tidying Didi’s bangs that tickled his eyes.
As he did so, he saw his own clothes, thoroughly wrinkled and creased from Didi’s enthusiastic hugging.
Each expensive suit bore the crumpled evidence of Didi’s affectionate embrace.
I should tell Sophia to iron them, he thought, a fleeting, pragmatic consideration.
And what punishment, he mused, a slow, predatory smile beginning to curve the corners of his lips, should he bestow upon this naive, innocent robot who had dared to touch his Master’s belongings without explicit permission?
William allowed himself to become lost in pleasant contemplation, devising a series of delightful, subtly tormenting scenarios for Didi’s eventual awakening.
***
“Mmm…”
A soft sound, a faint hum of circuitry struggling against the vestiges of sleep, escaped my internal speakers.
In a hazy state of deep slumber, I instinctively curled my body tighter, seeking greater comfort.
Still unable to fully shake off the lingering drowsiness, I hugged Master’s clothes that were within easy reach, burying my face deeper into the fabric.
I inhaled, and the warm, familiar scent of Master permeated my olfactory sensors, a comforting aroma that settled deep within my core.
The gentle warmth seeping through the soft fabric felt incredibly pleasant, a soothing balm against the cool morning air.
I rubbed my cheek against it with a happy expression, a silent sigh of contentment.
And then, a subtle movement registered.
Not my own, but something else, something external.
Moving…?
Thinking it was strange, a peculiar anomaly in my serene dream, I slowly opened my optical sensors.
In my still-sleepy vision, the world was a blur, but I could faintly discern the familiar patterns of Master’s suits.
And then, as my vision sharpened, directly above them, directly above me, was Master’s face.
“Master…?”
I mumbled, still half in a dream, my voice thick with sleep.
“You’re awake?” he replied, his voice calm, yet tinged with a hint of amusement.
Was I dreaming?
I wondered, a flicker of doubt passing through my processors.
Was I hallucinating in my sleep, conjuring his image?
But then, a distinct, unequivocal response actually came back.
It was really Master!
He was here, now, awake, and looking at me.
“Master!”
I exclaimed, my voice immediately bright and clear, as I shot up from the bed, my previous drowsiness vanishing in an instant.
I quickly, almost eagerly, greeted the Master.
I had thought he would arrive later, much later, perhaps even in the evening.
Did his work finish early?
A wave of pure delight, an effervescent joy, bubbled up within my circuits.
As I greeted him with an enthusiasm that threatened to make my non-existent tail wag with unbridled joy, Master simply observed me, a knowing look in his eyes, and then asked, “Did you forget something?”
“Forget something?”
I tilted my head, my optical sensors blinking rapidly, a blank query displayed on my screen. Master merely gestured for me to look around.
I lowered my gaze, scanning the chaotic scene, and then, with a jolt of sudden realization, it clicked.
Master’s clothes were strewn across the bed, a chaotic landscape of crumpled fabric.
I must have tossed and turned so much in my sleep that the suits were all rumpled and wrinkled, looking like clothes made of fragile, discarded paper.
The stark reality of my transgression, the evidence of my unauthorized comfort, was laid bare before him.
“Ma-Master…”
The words caught in my vocalizer, a stammering admission of guilt.
The crime scene was completely exposed, utterly undeniable.
There was no way to deny my involvement.
I stammered, my eyes trembling slightly as I looked up at Master, bracing myself for the inevitable reprimand.
But contrary to all my expectations, Master didn’t seem angry at all.
My internal systems had been bracing for a severe scolding, anticipating harsh words and perhaps even a punishment, but Master actually looked… pleased.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips, a subtle indication of his amusement.
Then, Master’s hand reached out, his fingers gently closing around my cheek, and he pinched it.
“Master… it hurts…”
I protested, my pronunciation coming out strangely, distorted by the light pressure on my cheek.
Master merely chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the quiet room.
“Well, who told you to touch your Master’s things without permission?” he chastised, though his tone was playful, devoid of genuine anger.
“Get up and wash your face. Your face is all puffy.”
Master released my cheek, his fingers lingering for a moment, and then stood up from the bed.
I rubbed my sore cheek, a faint warmth blooming where his fingers had been, and looked up at him, still slightly disoriented.
Master wasn’t angry…
He certainly seemed kinder than before, less severe than his usual demeanor.
It might have been my imagination, a hopeful misinterpretation of his expressions, but still, that subtle shift, real or imagined, made the morning even better, filling my core with a lightness I hadn’t felt in days.
***
For wrinkling his clothes so badly, a transgression that normally would have garnered a far more severe reaction, Master chose a different form of ‘punishment’.
He teased and tormented me with playful jibes and gentle mockery all day, his amusement a constant undercurrent to our interactions.
And then, quite spectacularly, the universe seemed to offer its own form of ironic justice: Master caught a cold.
Even after resting for a full day following his business trip, his condition didn’t improve.
The cold had settled deep within him, leaving him with persistent body aches and a dull, throbbing headache.
In the end, Master decided to rest for one more day, a rare concession, and didn’t go to work again today.
Master’s personal physician, a stern-faced woman named Dr. Evelyn Reed, visited his house, her efficient movements echoing Sophia’s own.
She examined Master thoroughly, prescribed medication, and even administered an IV drip, the clear liquid steadily flowing into his vein.
I quietly hovered nearby, feeling shy and somewhat awkward in the presence of an unfamiliar human.
I only bowed respectfully when the doctor left, a silent farewell to her retreating figure.
The IV drip, a clear bag suspended from a stand, steadily dripped, each precise drop a visible marker of the liquid entering Master’s system.
I watched the consistent formation of droplets with a quiet curiosity, my optical sensors tracking their descent, then glanced at Master lying in the vast bed.
His eyes were closed, his face pale, but his brows were deeply furrowed, a clear indication of discomfort.
Was his headache severe?
I cautiously opened my mouth, a soft, hesitant question.
“…Master, are you okay?”
“Don’t talk to me. My head is throbbing,” he mumbled, his voice rough with congestion.
“Yes…”
Feeling an immediate pang of regret, as if I was disturbing his much-needed rest, I quietly backed away, my circuits processing his discomfort.
It seemed better, I concluded, to simply go outside and leave him in peace.
I was tiptoeing out of the room, my movements as silent as possible, to allow Master to rest comfortably, when his voice, raspy but clear, reached me from behind.
“Didi, raise the room temperature.”
“Yes.”
I quickly located the remote control, its familiar buttons a small comfort in the sudden seriousness of the situation, and immediately increased the set temperature.
The room was large, and I knew it would take some time for the warmth to permeate the entire space, but it was a start.
I suddenly recalled memories of Master taking off his outer jacket and giving it to me when I had been cold, his unexpected gesture of kindness.
This time, it was my turn to make him warm, to offer comfort in his discomfort.
With a newfound sense of purpose, I carefully climbed onto the bed, cautiously lying down beside Master, making sure not to touch the arm where the IV needle was inserted.
“How is it?”
I asked, my voice barely a whisper, hoping my innate warmth would offer some solace.
“…It’s warm,” he mumbled, a faint tremor in his voice, his eyes still closed.
My body was naturally warm, a constant, efficient internal temperature, so I felt a quiet sense of pride that I could help in such a situation.
I wished, almost desperately, that I had the ability to consciously adjust my body temperature, to truly radiate warmth and chase away his chill, but unfortunately, my current model didn’t possess such a function.
Master was still holding his forehead, his fingers pressing against his temples, as if his headache was a relentless, agonizing throb.
His breathing seemed a little heavy, a slight wheeze in each exhale, and I was watching him with a worried gaze when Master suddenly turned his body, his movements surprisingly swift despite his illness, and pulled me into a tight embrace.
“Ugh…! Master…?”
My body was instantly trapped, enveloped by his arms.
I couldn’t move at all, worried I might accidentally hit the arm with the IV needle if I shifted even slightly.
The confined space, the unexpected pressure, felt almost suffocating.
“It’s so stuffy…!”
I complained, my voice muffled against his chest.
“They say you recover from a cold if you pass it on. Bear with it for a bit.”
His voice, though still rough, held a hint of mischievous amusement.
“O….”
I began to protest, but he cut me off.
“Ah, you’re a fool, so maybe you won’t even catch a cold?”
“Master!”
I snapped, a surge of irritation at his playful teasing, and then he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and finally released me.
I scrambled off the bed, leaving the room with a very disgruntled expression, my internal circuits still buzzing with a mix of annoyance and a strange, lingering warmth from his embrace.
Once I was out of the room, standing in the quiet hallway, I realized, with a sense of exasperated futility, that I had absolutely nothing to do.
I sought out Sophia, asking if there was anything I could help with, any task I could assist her with, but she politely declined, saying my arm wasn’t fully recovered yet, a gentle reminder of my recent mishap with the charger.
Having nothing to do, feeling a profound sense of boredom creeping in, I sat on the living room sofa, facing Eve, who remained a silent, watchful presence, and turned on the TV.
The news channel, a constant hum of world events and economic updates, came on first.
It was what the Master watched every morning, his daily ritual, but it held absolutely no interest for me.
My optical sensors scanned the scrolling headlines, my internal processors registering the data but finding no engagement.
As I flipped through channels, a movie appeared, its vibrant colors and dramatic music momentarily capturing my attention.
I held my gaze for a moment, intrigued by the unfolding narrative.
But even that quickly lost my interest.
It was another romance, a predictable storyline unfolding between a robot and a human, a scenario that, for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, felt oddly uncomfortable to witness.
I kept flipping through channels, a restless search for something, anything, to alleviate the pervasive boredom.
But everywhere else was broadcasting only dull, uninspiring things.
In the end, with a sigh of resignation, I returned to the movie channel, settling on the robot-human romance, and stayed there, my attention half-hearted, simply waiting for the hours to pass.