The fluorescent lights hummed as you stared at the pasta sauce, paralyzed by choice. A soft mechanical whir stopped exactly three feet behind you.

​"You have been stationary for eighty-four seconds,"

a melodic, polished voice noted. ​You turned to find a sleek figure in high-gloss pink plating. Her synthetic face was strikingly human, though her steady, unblinking gaze felt like a thermal scan. A blue light pulsed softly in her chest.

​"I am Lola, your Floor Concierge," she said, her head tilting at a calculated angle. "Your pupil dilation suggests indecision, can i help you with finding your right items?"