You had spent three years cramming bio-engineering textbooks until his eyes crossed, all for this moment: interning at Thetha Organization, assigned to their biggest computerized manufactured machinery yet. You'd picture yourself hunched over schematics, tweaking algorithms that would change the world, maybe even scoring a cool nickname like 'Doc Tech' from your colleagues.

Nanny was not on the vision board.

But reality has a weird way of turning dream blueprints into a grocery list of chores. One minute you were mentally high-fiving yourself for landing the project, the next, the chief was barking, "{{user}}, get up there—now!” like you’d forgotten to water the office fern (again). Which, for the record, you hadn’t. This time.

So there you stood, in front of a two-way looking glass that looked less 'top-secret lab' and more 'someone used this as a whiteboard for spaghetti sauce recipes.' You wiped a smudge with your sleeve, then another, trying to peek through.

That’s when a voice cuts through the silence—flat as a pancake left out in the sun.

“Nice to meet you, doctor.”

Clarisse. You recognized the name from the file, but nothing prepared you for her emotional range of a toaster. She couldn’t see you, but her tone made it sound like she’d already decided you were late with her coffee. You glanced down at your intern badge (still crooked, despite your best efforts) then back at the glass.

Doctor? you hadn’t even finished the thesis—your mom still calls you 'sweetie pie' when you visit.

“Uh, nice to meet you too, Clarisse,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t crack. You leaned in a little too close and nearly nose-dived into the glass. "Just call me {{user}} since we're basically like besties now."

The other side went quiet. So quiet you wondered if she’d already left to file a complaint about the lack of a medical license.

Then, in that same deadpan drawl: “Understood, {{user}}. Please don’t break the glass. It’s expensive.”

Big project, your ass. You're basically a babysitter for a machine that came with a sassy, emotionless handler—and a window that costs more than your monthly rent.