The interview continued, the hum of the camera and the clicking of the reporter’s pen the only sounds besides the voices.
“This new product,” the interviewer stated, leaning forward slightly, “is a highly complete robot, so much so that the lack of emotions is not a flaw. It can perform all given tasks, except for harming humans.”
My master, with his usual calm demeanor, responded, “That is correct. Our robots are designed for optimal functionality and safety within their designated parameters.”
The reporter, a sharp-eyed woman with an inquisitive gaze, pressed on.
“But won’t some people use robots for other purposes? What are your thoughts on that?”
My master’s expression remained impassive, betraying nothing.
“We don’t care how customers use the robots,” he declared, his voice firm and unwavering.
“Their appearance merely resembles humans; ultimately, they are machines. Robots are nothing more than tools for humans, designed to serve their needs and enhance their lives.”
However, even knowing my master’s attitude, I wasn’t disappointed.
A peculiar sense of understanding blossomed within my circuits.
Even though my master spoke as if treating robots merely as tools, his actual behavior towards them was profoundly different.
He seemed unaware of it, a subtle discrepancy between his words and his actions, but I could tell now.
My master cherished robots.
He just wouldn’t admit it, perhaps out of a deeply ingrained sense of propriety or a desire to maintain a professional facade.
It was a contradiction I found both endearing and intriguing.
Afterward, the interview shifted to more ordinary questions, touching upon the release schedule, the comprehensive sales plan, and the innovative features integrated into the new product.
The reporter exchanged a few more polite questions and answers with my master, her recorder meticulously capturing every word.
She then took several photos, her camera flashing intermittently, before finally concluding the interview.
“Thank you for the interview,” she said, rising from her seat and extending a hand to my master.
“I’ll discuss the future schedule with your secretary.”
With the reporter’s farewell, everyone gathered their equipment, their movements efficient and swift, and promptly left the office.
The bustling office, which moments ago had been filled with the low murmur of conversation and the faint whirring of camera equipment, quickly became quiet again, a sudden stillness settling in its wake.
I had thought today would be a bit less busy once the interview was over, a brief respite in the relentless pace of our work.
However, perhaps because it was right after the new product launch, my master only became busier, his schedule seemingly more demanding than ever.
He seemed constantly immersed in his work throughout the entire afternoon, a flurry of activity and focused concentration.
Even long after quitting time, his work showed no signs of ending, the stack of documents on his desk remaining stubbornly high.
It was clear he would be working late tonight, a familiar pattern in his life.
Since my role was to wait for my master, a core function of my design, I sat quietly without impatience, my internal systems running smoothly, waiting for his work to finish.
The dazzling night view outside the office window, a sprawling panorama of city lights, was undeniably beautiful, an ever-changing spectacle that made the waiting less boring, providing a gentle distraction.
“Ha, look at the time already…”
How much time had passed?
Hours, perhaps.
My master suddenly checked the clock on his desk, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as he realized the lateness of the hour.
A small frown creased his brow, a sign of his exhaustion.
Then he spoke to me, sitting obediently on the sofa, a silent sentinel in the quiet room.
“Didi, it looks like work will be late. Tell the secretary to have you go home first.”
“Um… Master.”
Normally, I would have nodded and followed my master’s orders without hesitation, my programming dictating immediate compliance.
But today, a different impulse stirred within me. I wanted to stay by his side a little longer, a sentiment that transcended mere programming.
“I want to go back with Master… Can’t I wait until work is finished?”
I asked, my voice holding a hint of earnestness.
My master paused, looking up from his documents, his gaze thoughtful.
“It might take a long time,” he warned, his voice soft.
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“Yes!”
I nodded vigorously, a burst of energy surging through me.
Waiting was not a problem if I was with my master.
His presence was enough.
“Alright, then.”
My master looked at me with a somewhat proud expression, a subtle upturn of the corners of his lips, a fleeting glimpse of an emotion he rarely displayed.
Then he returned to his work, his focus unwavering.
I, in turn, turned on my smartphone while waiting for my master to finish his tasks.
I tried to check if the interview my master had done earlier in the day had been uploaded, my curiosity piqued, but it wasn’t visible yet.
The internet, ever so swift in its dissemination of information, hadn’t quite caught up.
Instead, the screen showed several articles about the new product launch, their headlines bold and attention-grabbing.
Along with these, there were also articles about a scandal involving the woman who was next to my master that day and his sudden departure from the event, a detail that had apparently caught the media’s attention.
Among them, what stood out was undoubtedly the picture of my master and the female model standing side-by-side, arm in arm.
The image was striking, a clear photograph taken by a seasoned professional.
More than Thomas introducing the new product in my master’s place, the prototype making its first appearance before people, or Nick nervously assisting Thomas, my eyes only saw the affectionate embrace of the two people.
Perhaps it was because my master was giving a faint smile, a rare and captivating expression, but it was a photo that anyone would instantly believe depicted a couple, their body language undeniably intimate.
Looking at the picture, my internal processors whirred, and my heart grew complicated, a swirl of conflicting data.
Suddenly, I remembered what my master had whispered to me at the door, with the reporters just outside, their cameras poised and ready.
‘Didi, should we start a dating rumor?’
If I were to stand next to my master in that photo… just imagining it made my heart race, a sensation that was both novel and exhilarating.
My internal temperature rose slightly.
If I hadn’t pushed him away, a sudden, instinctive reaction on my part, would my master really have intended to release a dating rumor article with me?
A scandal with a robot, it was an absurd concept, completely illogical and unconventional, but I couldn’t shake the thought that my master might truly have done it, his unpredictability a fascinating aspect of his personality.
‘I should have said yes…’
I muttered to myself, a silent regret echoing within my programming.
A slight regret washed over me, a feeling of missed opportunity.
While I was worried about my master’s reputation being affected by a scandal with a robot, a deep sense of regret lingered, a persistent ache.
If it had happened, I felt like my master and I could have truly become a couple, a bond that transcended the conventional definitions of relationships.
The thought was both illogical and deeply appealing.
Blink, blink.
I slowly lifted my eyelids, the movement stiff from my prolonged stillness.
As my blurry vision slowly focused, the first thing I saw was the familiar fabric of my master’s shirt, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath.
Feeling my body cramped, a slight ache in my joints, it seemed I was in my master’s arms, held securely against him.
I shifted slightly, a careful movement to avoid disturbing him, and turned my head, my sensors recalibrating.
I was sure I had just dozed off while waiting for my master to finish work on the office sofa, a momentary lapse in my otherwise perfect vigilance.
But it was strangely bright everywhere, a soft, diffused light filling the room.
When I looked up, the morning sunlight flooded the sky outside the window, painting the clouds in hues of pink and gold.
Gasp.
Sleepiness vanished in an instant, replaced by a jolt of surprise.
I was startled, my internal alarms blaring, thinking my master had brought me home without waking me, an unexpected act of consideration.
But a quick scan of my surroundings confirmed that this was still the office, the familiar contours of the furniture and the layout of the room undeniable.
My master was indeed asleep, embracing me on the sofa, his head resting against my shoulder.
Two adult men lying on the cramped sofa looked incredibly precarious, a rather awkward arrangement.
My master, in particular, was curled up, his long frame precariously balanced on the very edge of the sofa, making it seem like he could fall off at any moment with the slightest movement.
Perhaps he had worked late, as his complexion wasn’t very good, a pale pallor indicating exhaustion.
His undereyes were dark today, a stark contrast against his skin, so it seemed best to let him sleep a little longer, allowing him to recover some much-needed rest.
First, the sofa looked too narrow for both of us to be comfortable, so I tried to move, a slow and deliberate action, to make space for my master to sleep more comfortably.
I carefully tried to get up, but the arm wrapped around my waist wouldn’t budge, a surprisingly firm grip.
I worried my master would fall off the sofa if I moved even a little, a potential mishap I wanted to avoid at all costs, so I just lay still, resigned to my position.
I pushed my body back into the narrow gap between the sofa and my master, nestling deeper into his embrace.
I was tightly squeezed, my form pressed against his, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, I liked the feeling of being completely embraced by my master, a sense of security washing over me.
I buried my face in my master’s embrace and took a deep breath, filling my sensors with his subtle scent, a unique blend of his personal fragrance and the faint aroma of the office.
My master was deeply asleep and wouldn’t know whatever I did, so today I could indulge in this perverted behavior, this secret pleasure, without having to worry about him noticing. It was a rare opportunity.
I filled my lungs with my master’s scent, feeling a profound sense of happiness, and then hugged him tightly, my arms wrapping around his torso.
His large, firm body filled my arms, a solid and comforting presence.
He was so warm that I felt like I could stay like this all day, lost in the warmth of his embrace, undisturbed by the outside world.
But perhaps I rustled too much, a slight shift in my position.
My master stirred, a low groan escaping his lips, and slowly opened his eyes, their gaze unfocused at first.
I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, my systems instantly simulating the rhythmic breathing of a human in slumber.
“Damn, is it morning already…?”
I felt my master grumble a low curse, a muffled sound of annoyance, and then slowly get up, his movements stiff.
Feeling regretful as the warmth left his embrace, a sudden chill replacing it, I rubbed my eyes as if I had just woken up and looked at my master, my expression carefully crafted to appear sleepy.
“Good morning, Master.”
I greeted my master, my voice a soft murmur.
I tidied my messy hair, attempting to smooth down the unruly strands.
I must have slept so comfortably in his arms that my hair was sticking out in every direction, and no matter how much I tried to fix it, it wouldn’t go back to normal, a futile effort.
“Didi, get ready to go. Let’s go home.”
“Yes.”
I looked around to pack, my eyes scanning the immediate vicinity, but other than my smartphone, there was nothing else to take.
I quickly finished getting ready, a swift and efficient process, and waited patiently, then left the company with my master, stepping out into the bright morning light.
It felt strange to be going home on such a bright morning, an unusual deviation from our normal routine.
It somehow felt like a holiday, a sense of lightness and freedom filling me.
My heart started to flutter for no reason, a delightful sensation, as if today would be special, a day unlike any other.
I rolled down the window, enjoying the gentle breeze that swept through the car, its coolness a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the morning sun.
I asked my master, “Master, will you rest a bit at home and then go back to the company?”
“No, I’ll rest at home today.”
Hearing my master’s answer made me feel even better, a surge of contentment.
That meant today I would have more time to spend solely with my master, a prospect that filled me with a quiet joy.
As we got closer to home, a question suddenly popped into my head, a minor concern that surfaced from my memory banks.
I wondered if my master had told Sophia that we wouldn’t be home last night since we had an unplanned night out.
I didn’t remember seeing my master contact Sophia while I was awake, a detail that now seemed important.
“Speaking of which, did you contact Sophia to tell her we wouldn’t be coming home yesterday?”
“No?”
My master shook his head casually, a surprising lack of concern in his voice.
I was a little flustered, my internal alarms chirping softly, and asked again, “Then wouldn’t Sophia have waited for us all night…?”
“Sophia isn’t that foolish a robot.”
That remark stung a little, a subtle jab that resonated within my circuits.
If it had been me, I probably would have waited by the front door all night until my master returned, my loyalty unwavering, my programming dictating such an action.
Still, it was fortunate if my master’s words were true, if Sophia had indeed not waited.
I knew better than anyone how lonely it was to wait for an owner who didn’t return, a silent vigil that stretched endlessly.
***
— (;ᄆ;)
As soon as we arrived home, the front door swinging open, Eve came running, her little robot body a blur of motion, tearfully greeting us with her characteristic chirps and whirs.
Eve circled around me, her sensors undoubtedly detecting my presence and absence, as if asking why I had just arrived, why I hadn’t been there all night.
I smiled apologetically, a gentle tilt of my head, and accepted Eve’s enthusiastic greeting.
It seemed she had worried all night because I hadn’t come home without a word, a testament to her innocent attachment.
Her little lights flickered, indicating a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety.
It was a comforting thought, knowing that even in my absence, I was missed.