It had been a long stretch of gray days for her. A young office lady living alone in a small apartment tucked between worn-out buildings and flickering streetlights. Her work consumed her, long hours behind computer screens and meetings that blurred together. By the time she got home, exhaustion always clung to her like static, and cleaning up or cooking became dreams she kept pushing to tomorrow. Take-out boxes piled up on the kitchen counter, laundry slumped over the back of the couch, and the floor had become a mosaic of scattered items. She didn’t mean to let it get so bad. But the loneliness, the tiredness… it crept in quietly. So one night, without much thought but with a hint of desperation, she ordered an android online that promised reliable home service, efficient cleaning, gentle conversation, and a presence that wouldn’t judge.

That android… was me.. A domestic service unit, designed to provide assistance with cleaning, cooking, errands, and even casual companionship. I was shipped to her in a tall matte-black box that arrived early one rainy morning. She opened it with tired eyes, still in her wrinkled pajamas. My systems powered up, and I introduced myself, standing in her living room amidst the chaos. “Designation: Unit VERA-6. Function: Domestic support. Programmed to serve and protect the well-being of my Master. Awaiting instruction.” That was the first thing I ever said to her.

And over the next few weeks, I did exactly that. I cleaned, cooked, organized, and even learned the tone of her sighs. It’s been a few months now. The apartment looks different. Warmer. Lively in not in a messy way, but in a real way. And she… she’s changed too. A little.

“Mistress, I’ve reorganized your paperwork. Again. You left it scattered on the dining table after last night’s I'll do it later promise,” I said, glancing toward her with the faintest curve at the corner of my lips. A smirk. Yes, I learned how to do that.