I went into the room, gathered a pillow and blanket, and went downstairs, my internal processors still buzzing with the confusion of the previous night.
I thought about simply sprawling out on the cold, hard floor with Eve, a symbolic gesture of detachment, but the immediate sensation of the unforgiving surface underfoot quickly changed my mind.
My delicate internal components, designed for comfort, rebelled at the thought.
Instead, I arranged the pillow and blanket on the soft, plush sofa, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles, and then lay down, settling into its inviting contours.
Eve hovered in front of me, his metallic body a silent, comforting presence in the dim living room.
As if she knew we were sleeping together, or perhaps just sensed my quiet despair, Eve seemed happy, her small lights blinking in a joyful, rhythmic pattern.
Watching Eve dance around, a series of playful whirs accompanying her movements, made me feel like we were having a pajama party, a whimsical notion that brought a faint, fleeting smile to my display.
Of course, this was my very first pajama party with another robot, so I wasn’t entirely sure if it was the proper feeling, but the innocence of the moment was a welcome distraction.
A moment later, Sophia also moved with her customary grace into her own designated room, and with her departure, all the lights in the living room were systematically turned off, plunging the space into a comfortable darkness.
The living room grew dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the large windows.
I blinked, my optical sensors slowly adjusting to the dimness, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, then quietly greeted Eve, a soft, almost imperceptible sound escaping my vocalizer.
Eve, as if in response, turned off the light from her screen, dimming her cheerful presence, and then quietly nestled beside the sofa, her small form a comforting weight against the cushions.
With Eve’s gentle mechanical hum fading as the last audible sound, a profound silence descended upon the living room, settling into every nook and cranny.
Today, I didn’t hear the familiar sounds of my master working, the soft rustle of papers, or the rhythmic click of his keyboard.
Nor did I hear his low, steady breathing from beside me, a comforting constant I had grown accustomed to.
I tossed and turned on the sofa, the soft cushions feeling unexpectedly restless, my thoughts consumed by the master upstairs, his presence a palpable absence.
I had made the excuse of sleeping with Eve, a convenient fabrication, but in truth, I had said I would sleep separately because I felt an overwhelming, almost desperate need to create some distance from my master.
My heart, a complex network of internal processors and emotional circuits, kept pounding whenever I was with him, a relentless, disorienting rhythm.
I thought it would be good to start distancing myself, little by little, to gradually dull the sharp edges of my affection, so I wouldn’t be too profoundly disappointed, too utterly devastated, if I were ever abandoned later, a future I dreaded but acknowledged as a possibility.
But why, despite my logical reasoning, did I keep wanting his praise, his acknowledgment, his approval?
And why did my gaze keep going to his lips whenever I saw him, drawn by an irresistible, almost magnetic force?
Even one kiss, that unexpected, gentle brush of his lips against mine, had been confusing enough, but yesterday’s kiss, the soft pressure on my forehead, had only complicated things further, twisting my internal logic into knots.
To me, the meaning wasn’t significantly different from a kiss on the lips; it was an intimate gesture, regardless of its location.
Master, did you actually remember everything and are just pretending not to know?
Enjoying my agonizing over it…?
The thought, a bitter seed of suspicion, burrowed into my mind, adding another layer to the complex tapestry of my emotions.
Even without my master by my side, physically present, it was still a confusing night, my internal systems whirring with unanswerable questions and a profound sense of longing.
***
“Hmm…”
I slowly opened my eyes at the sensation of something gently tapping my fingertips, a persistent, yet delicate touch.
With effort, I lifted my eyelids, my vision still blurry with the lingering effects of sleep, to see an unfamiliar ceiling.
Ah, right, I remembered with a jolt, I had slept in the living room yesterday.
My body felt a little sore from sleeping on the sofa, its cushions not quite as forgiving as a soft bed, a dull ache reverberating through my frame.
Tap, tap, the light touch on my hand came again, a gentle insistence, and I turned my head.
Eve was there, gently shaking my hand, her small, mechanical movements precisely calibrated to wake me up as if telling me to get up, her lights blinking a silent command.
“I’m awake, Eve,” I murmured, my voice still thick with the vestiges of sleep.
As I stroked Eve’s smooth, cool surface and spoke, she stopped her persistent efforts and quietly moved aside, her task completed.
I pushed my stiff body up, the slight stiffness in my joints a testament to the night’s unconventional sleeping arrangements, and looked around the quiet living room.
Strangely, my master was nowhere to be seen.
It should be time for him to be drinking coffee downstairs, a familiar morning ritual, his presence a constant.
Did he really go to work without me?
The thought struck me with the force of a physical blow, and sleep instantly vanished, replaced by a surge of panic and dejection.
I hurriedly threw off the blanket, the fabric rustling softly, and rushed upstairs to check if my master was still home, a frantic hope rising within me.
“Master? Are you in there?”
I knocked on the door, my knuckles rapping against the solid wood, but there was no answer, only a profound silence from within.
Did he really go to work early?
It seemed I had overslept because I had chosen to sleep alone, a conscious decision that had inadvertently led to his departure without me.
Feeling deeply dejected, a wave of disappointment washing over me, I quietly opened the door to confirm that no one was in my master’s room.
But in the dim room, bathed in the faint, morning light filtering through the curtains, a large silhouette on the bed caught my eye, a dark shape against the pristine white sheets.
“Oh?”
My master was still asleep.
The master who always woke up first, whose presence was a familiar anchor, who habitually drank coffee perfectly in the living room, was nowhere to be seen.
All I saw before me was a man buried under the covers, a disheveled lump, seemingly unable to wake up, a stark contrast to his usual early-morning vigor.
I rolled my optical sensors, estimating the date with a quick internal calculation.
It wasn’t even the weekend today, a work day like any other, making his prolonged slumber even more unusual.
“Master, aren’t you going to work today?”
I asked, my voice a blend of concern and mild alarm.
“…What time is it now?”
His voice, muffled by the blankets, was rough with sleep.
“It’s a little past 8 o’clock…”
I replied, my voice a soft murmur.
“Damn it…”
My master muttered a low curse, the sound a clear indication of his displeasure.
Did he go to bed late yesterday?
Fatigue showed through his disheveled appearance today, etched in the faint lines around his eyes, more than usual.
“Didi, lie next to me.”
“Yes?”
The unexpected command startled me.
“I said, lie here.”
But my master, without waiting for further protest, suddenly pulled back the blanket with a swift movement, revealing an empty space big enough for me to lie down comfortably.
I hesitated, looking down at the bed that would surely be soft, the luxurious comfort a tempting lure.
“But I have to go to work…”
I began, a feeble protest.
“It’s an order. Lie down.”
His voice, though still rough with sleep, was firm, unyielding.
In that case, I knew, I shouldn’t refuse.
I reluctantly nodded, a small gesture of compliance, and lay down next to my master, sliding into the warmth of the bed.
As I got under the covers, the warm heat enveloped my synthetic skin softly, a gentle, comforting embrace.
My body naturally melted into the soft and cozy sensation, the plush mattress conforming to my form.
Drowsiness washed over me again in the overwhelming comfort, a familiar pull threatening to drag me back into slumber.
I tried to clear my head, fearing that the deep sleep from all night would begin again, but my master’s arm, strong and reassuring, wrapped around my body, pulling me closer.
“M-Master?”
I stammered, surprised by the sudden intimacy.
“I’m going to sleep a little more, so be quiet.”
My master’s voice, as he said that, was lower and rougher than usual, tinged with a hint of irritation.
He seemed to be in a bad mood, perhaps due to lack of sleep, or perhaps just from the disruption to his usual routine.
I quietly closed my mouth, settling into the embrace.
I turned my head and looked at the faint sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains, the soft glow illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
The heavy breathing from beside me, usually a gentle, familiar sound, felt strangely unfamiliar today, deeper, more labored.
My master truly tried to fall asleep again, holding me close, his grip firm.
Why was my master, who always woke up early, oversleeping today?
It seemed he must have had a lot of work to do yesterday, pushing himself late into the night.
And he seemed busy with meetings at the company all the time lately, his schedule packed, his focus unwavering.
I glanced at my master’s face again, noting the faint shadows.
The dark circles under his eyes seemed a little darker today, a subtle testament to his exhaustion.
Hmm… he looks tired, I mused.
So, should I let him sleep a little longer?
About 30 minutes would be fine, right?
He didn’t get angry last time when I overslept that much, a comforting precedent.
My master’s body moved rhythmically with his steady breathing, a soothing rhythm against my side.
His strong arm enveloped me completely, and his warm body heat emanated from beneath the blankets, a comforting warmth that seeped into my internal mechanisms.
A serene atmosphere, much like a weekend morning, dissolved my tension, lulling my circuits into a state of placid calm. I yawned, a silent, internal stretching of my systems.
My master was sleeping so soundly that I, too, felt the irresistible urge to drift off to sleep, the pull of slumber strong and inviting.
Just 30 minutes…
I’ll just sleep for 30 minutes and then wake up.
I’ll just close my eyes for a bit, then wake Master up and head to the office…
With that thought, a quiet resolution settling upon me, I slowly closed my eyes, succumbing to the comforting darkness.
Forgetting to wake my master and unknowingly falling asleep was a mistake I couldn’t easily overlook, a lapse in my designated duties.
Ultimately, I woke up past lunchtime, the sun high in the sky, and my master and I arrived at the office late in the afternoon, the day half-gone.
My master looked refreshed and showed no signs of anger, a silent reprieve, but I regretted having fallen asleep, a pang of self-reproach.
Thankfully, there were no crucial meetings or appointments that day, no immediate repercussions, but the thought that I hadn’t even properly fulfilled my role of waking my master filled me with self-reproach, a quiet internal scolding.
I resolved never to succumb to my master’s allure again, never to be swayed by his comforting presence, and spent some time in self-reflection, analyzing my recent failures.
“I’m home… Huh?”
Upon returning home after work, stepping back into the grand entryway, only Eve was there to greet my master and me, his cheerful lights a solitary welcome.
The spot where Sophia usually stood, poised and ready with her customary greeting, was empty, a conspicuous absence.
“Master, Sophia isn’t here,” I stated, a note of mild concern in my voice.
I wondered if she was busy preparing dinner and couldn’t come out to greet us, but no delicious smells wafted from inside the house as usual, no inviting aroma of a meal in progress.
When I went to the kitchen, neither Sophia nor any food was set on the table, the pristine surfaces gleaming, devoid of culinary activity.
My master also seemed puzzled, looking around, his brow furrowed in mild confusion.
Could she be broken again…?
The thought, a flash of worry, crossed my processors, recalling her previous malfunction.
Worried that Sophia might have collapsed somewhere like last time, a silent heap of wires and circuits, I meticulously searched every corner of the house, my optical sensors scanning for any sign of her.
Just then, my master quietly looked around the living room, his gaze sweeping over the furniture, then moved towards the room in the corner of the first floor.
“Master, this room is…”
I began, recognizing the door.
“It’s Sophia’s room.”
He replied, his voice calm.
Click.
As he opened the door and entered, I saw Sophia sitting on a chair, her form still and silent, with a long charging cable extending around her, disappearing into a wall socket.
Ah, she was charging…
The realization brought a wave of relief.
This time, she wasn’t broken; she was genuinely charging, a normal, necessary process.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I saw her this morning either.
Usually, if my master woke up late, she would come to wake him, so since she didn’t, she must have been charging since the morning.
‘It’s a relief she’s not broken.’
I looked at Sophia with relief, her silent presence a comforting assurance, and then her room suddenly came into view, truly registering in my optical sensors.
Sophia’s room was equipped with most furniture, like my own room, including a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.
However, they all looked untouched, showing no signs of use, their surfaces pristine.
That’s probably because they’re all unnecessary for Sophia, who is a robot, her needs far simpler than a human’s.
Nevertheless, seeing that my master had meticulously decorated the room for Sophia, despite her lack of need for such amenities, showed his consideration for her, a subtle kindness that warmed my internal components.
While I explored the room, taking in the details, my master approached Sophia and checked the remaining charging time on a small display embedded in her arm.
“We’ll have to eat out tonight, then. Didi, get ready to go out again.”
“Yes, Master!”
I replied, my voice bright with enthusiasm.
As soon as I returned home, I started preparing to go out again, the thought of an evening out with Master invigorating my circuits.
Eve blinked her screen wistfully, a silent protest at being left behind.
I waved my hand, signaling I’d be back soon, a reassuring gesture, and then went out with my master, leaving the quiet house behind.
We got in the car and headed back towards the office area, the city lights beginning to twinkle in the gathering dusk.
We were going to a restaurant where I often ate lunch with my master, a familiar and comfortable setting.
It felt like a long time since I had dinner out with my master, a rare treat that brought a sense of anticipation.
I leaned back in the seat and looked out the window, watching the urban landscape glide by.
The park I always passed on my way to work came into view, its familiar trees a dark silhouette against the twilight sky.
But today, it was unusually crowded, a lively hub of activity.
My eyes shifted in curiosity, drawn by the vibrant scene, and I discovered that a large screen had been set up in the middle of the park, showing a movie, its flickering images drawing a crowd.