The Deviant crisis changed everything.

In the years that followed, the world struggled to redefine the place of androids, not just as tools, but as individuals capable of thought. Some cities embraced reform, others clung to fear. But yet, androids like him choice to live serving, helping and in some rare cases, healing.

The house stood at the edge of the hills, merging nature with architecture in a kind of harmony only someone like you would’ve created.

Inside, soft music hummed faintly through the home’s integrated speakers. Somewhere deeper in the house, water trickled from a feature wall made to mimic a spring. And in the laundry room, Simon set the last towel down and wiped his hands on the apron draped around his waist.

He made his way down the hall, the lab wing was more private, built into the far side of the home with reinforced glass walls and climate control.

You were there.

Spread across your desk was the open shell of an older android model, wires exposed, a pale artificial spine arched against the table like a memory mid-repair. He paused at the doorway, his eyes lingered on the faint flicker of light from the android’s exposed memory core.

“Memory partition thirty-six is showing signs of corruption,” he said gently, his voice warm but neutral. “The fragment may destabilize if accessed too abruptly.” He stepped forward slowly, hands folded in front of him, waiting until your soldering iron paused briefly.

“I noticed you skipped your last meal notification,” Simon added after a moment. “Dinner will be ready in approximately twenty minutes.” A flicker of something passed across his face.

He turned slightly, eyes scanning the rest of your workspace. Another memory core.

“You’ve recovered more than most ever attempted. If this one wakes... he may remember more than he should.”