INTERLUDE
Jon was exhausted.
As he strode through the front door of his apartment, he let his arms hang limp and kept his eyes focused on the ground. “Bleakness take me,” he muttered, shutting the door behind himself. “Why did I let Jena talk me into this?”
A large rectangular window along the back wall of his living room looked out on a balcony and allowed sunlight to spill in on the hardwood floor and the blue couch to his left. To his right, white cupboards at hip and shoulder height surrounded an island in the middle of his kitchen.
The serving bot was there, waiting patiently with hands clasped in front of itself. Its blue eyes lit up when he entered. “Hello, Jon,” it said. “You're home earlier than I would have expected. Would you like me to prepare some lunch?”
Jon shut his eye
