Perfectly programmed (lesbian story)

SIENNA  The coffee machine lets out a bubbling, vaguely ominous sound as I watch it with growing distrust. I don’t even know why I keep trying. Coffee and I have always had a tense relationship. It either comes out so watery it looks like muddy water, or so strong it might as well be a black hole in a cup. I sigh and lean back against the counter, waiting for a miracle that might make it drinkable this time. At least I have the excuse of being home and not at the office, where my coffee incompetence has already become a running joke. My apartment exists somewhere between “trying to look like a functional adult” and “life is spiraling out of control.” There’s clothes draped over the couch, an empty bowl with remnants of instant noodles on the table, and a messy pile of papers I should probably sort through. But right now, priority: caffeine. Just as I’m about to test my dubious creation, the sound of my phone interrupts me. I blink, still half-asleep, and pick it up from the counter. The notification on the screen makes me frown. “Congratulations, Sienna Collins. You’ve been selected as the winner of NeuralTech’s corporate raffle. You will receive the VX-09 unit at your home this afternoon.” Shit. I completely forgot about the raffle. I set the mug down in the sink with a loud clink and slide onto the couch, unlocking my phone to reread the message, as if staring at it long enough might change the content. NeuralTech holds one of these events every year, and most of the time the prize is something boring—a discount voucher or some experimental gadget. But this year… This year, they were raffling off a top-of-the-line android. Their newest release. I look at the screen again. Maybe I’ve slipped into a parallel universe, because in the version of reality where Sienna Collins exists, there’s no way I’d win something that impressive. Unless there’s a catch. NeuralTech is the biggest company in tech and android development, so I highly doubt they’re handing out multi-million-dollar toys without a terms and conditions clause the size of the sun. Maybe the one I’ll get is a prototype model. I run a hand through my hair and stare at the ceiling. “Come on, Sienna. It’s just an android. Worst case scenario, it’s a tin can with legs.” I decide not to overthink it. I’ll deal with it if it turns out I accidentally sold my soul to NeuralTech. For now, I’ll just have to pretend I’m a functional person and get to work. The office is a hell of harsh lighting and shallow conversations. No one really notices me—and I prefer it that way. My job is monotonous: answering emails, handling online customer service, and making sure coffee cups don’t pile up in the break room. I glance at the clock every few minutes, silently begging time to move faster, but it only drags, mocking me. As I walk through the office halls, I overhear some coworkers talking excitedly about the company’s new android line. They mention the advanced features, the adaptability, the unsettling realism. I tune them out. Androids have become trendy—indispensable, even—but to me, they’re just expensive machines. Tools the lucky ones can afford to make their lives easier. I keep walking, ignoring the chatter. By midafternoon, my boss steps into the main room with a forced smile and a tablet in hand. “Today is a special day,” he announces, and I barely lift my eyes from my computer screen. “As you all know, our company is launching the new VX android series. And to celebrate, they’ve decided to gift one of the new models to one of our employees. The name was chosen at random... and the lucky winner is... Sienna Collins.” The looks I get are a mix of surprise and barely concealed resentment. I can practically hear what they’re thinking. Sienna Collins? The girl who barely talks to anyone? The one who blends into the walls and does the bare minimum? I hear someone whisper what a waste it is that the prize went to me. I pretend not to notice. I don’t react with excitement or smile like I’m supposed to. I just nod slowly as my boss hands me the documents. My eyes skim over the pages. VX-09. Highly adaptable design. Advanced AI. Human stimulus response system. I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. I don’t need an android. The rest of the day passes like a blur. I don’t hear what my coworkers say, and I don’t bother responding to their fake congratulations. When the day finally ends, I leave the office with the android paperwork folded inside my jacket. When I get home, I drop everything onto the couch and collapse onto the bed fully dressed. The apartment is dark, lit only by the glow of streetlights filtering in through the window. I close my eyes and tell myself none of this matters. Tomorrow will be the same as always. Nothing’s going to change. The doorbell jolts me out of my daze. It takes a second ring to make me move. I drag myself to the door with leaden limbs. When I open it, there’s a uniformed delivery man standing next to a large, dark box resting on a metal dolly. “Delivery for Sienna Collins,” he says in a flat tone, like he’s reading from a script. I nod and sign the tablet he hands me. “This is the new VX-09 assistance android from NeuralTech Industries,” he adds, flipping through a small manual. “It features advanced artificial intelligence with adaptive learning protocols, designed to tailor itself to its user’s specific needs. It also has synthetic synesthesia, allowing it to perceive textures, temperatures, and pressure similar to a human.” I barely register his words. Once I’ve signed everything, he leaves down the hallway without a second glance. I stare at the box, unsure how to feel. It doesn’t spark curiosity or excitement—only discomfort. It’s larger than I expected, with NeuralTech’s sleek logo stamped on the side. I take a deep breath and step closer. With uncertain fingers, I find the tab and pull it open. The box unfolds itself automatically, revealing the contents inside. There she is. VX-09. Her silhouette is eerily human. Synthetic skin, pale with a subtle sheen—barely noticeable unless you look closely. Her hair is long and snow-white, cascading in soft waves around a face that’s almost too perfect. Her lips are a gentle pink, flawless. The manual says I need to press a sensor on her neck to activate her. My fingers hover over the spot, hesitating. Why am I like this? She’s just a machine, a consumer product, a tool designed to help me. And yet, something about how real she looks… unnerves me. I close my eyes and take another breath. She’s here now. I can’t just leave her in the box forever. Finally, I reach out and touch the sensor on her neck. A soft hum fills the air. Her eyelids slowly open, revealing impossibly blue eyes that seem to glow from within. Her head moves precisely, scanning me. Then her voice comes to life—smooth, gentle, perfectly modulated. “VX-09 unit online. User detected. Initial configuration in progress. Would you like to assign me a name?” I swallow. I hadn’t even thought about that. You’re supposed to name them to personalize the experience, but the idea of naming her suddenly feels like a weird responsibility. “…You choose,” I say before I can stop myself. A pause. Then something shifts in her expression, just slightly, as if processing. Finally, she speaks again, this time with a hint of… deliberation. “Vesper. I’ll be called Vesper.” The way she says it—the confidence, the ease—leaves me speechless. “…Okay, Vesper,” I murmur, a chill crawling up my spine. “I guess… welcome.” Her head tilts gently, as if trying to interpret my tone. Then, with an unsettlingly human fluidity, she blinks and replies: “Thank you, Sienna.” I frown, uncomfortable. “How do you know my name?” “I have access to the user data registered with the company,” she replies without hesitation. “Name: Sienna Collins. Date of birth: July 8. Age: 25. Height: 1.67 meters. Current weight: data unavailable. Residential address: Apartment 304, Quartz Towers, District 5. Would you like me to continue?” I shiver. “No. That’s enough.” “Understood. I am here to serve you.” Silence settles between us. My eyes trace her form with growing unease. Vesper blinks again, watching me with a focus that feels far too real. I cross my arms, trying to convince myself this is all perfectly normal—but my instincts whisper otherwise. “What are your specific functions?” I ask, mostly to fill the awkward silence. “I was designed for personalized assistance. I can manage domestic tasks, provide companionship, deliver real-time information, and optimize your routine based on behavioral patterns. My synthetic synesthesia allows me to interpret sensations for smoother and more natural interaction,” she answers flawlessly. Her tone is neutral, but something in the way she looks at me sends a chill down my spine. I look away. “Do you need to… recharge or something?” “My power core is autonomous and self-regulating. I do not require external charging for at least five standard years.” Of course. A perfect machine. I close the box slowly, but Vesper continues watching me, unmoving and silent. The sensation of being under her gaze only intensifies. “You can… I don’t know, relax or something,” I mutter, feeling ridiculous for talking to her like she’s human. She tilts her head. “I do not experience tension or relaxation. But if you prefer, I can enter temporary standby mode.” The idea of simply turning her off like that makes me shudder. I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. Just… stop staring at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you’re analyzing me.” “I am gathering data to optimize my assistance,” she replies calmly. I press my lips together. My reflection in the window shows me standing with my shoulders tense, like I’m ready to bolt. It’s not logical—she’s just an android—so why does she make me feel like this? “…Alright. I guess you can explore the apartment,” I murmur. “Understood.” Vesper moves with a grace that’s too human, scanning the living room with unsettling precision. I watch her from the corner of my eye, that strange unease lodged tight in my chest. From now on, this machine is part of my life. And I have no idea how I feel about that.