ARTIFICE
NA-0M1’s morning diagnostic was interrupted by the sing-song chime of the doorbell. The designers of her suite had insisted it was pleasant, along with the orange throw pillows and the terrariums. Yet the orange strained her visual sensors, nothing further could be said about how hateful the terrariums were, and the more she heard that chime, the less convinced she was that it could ever be called pleasant.
It rang again.
The monitor beside the door displayed her unexpected guest standing in the hallway outside. She didn’t recognize the tall android, and neither his plain blue robes nor his black armored plating had an insignia or designation printed on them. When she saw his manipulators reach toward the doorbell, NA-0M1 opened the door quickly to spare her auditory sensors another offensively happy chime, despite her lack of clothing.
The stranger didn’t seem shocked at her exposed parts. His visual sensors remained fixed on hers, a serene smile overtaking his slender emotional display. The smile was a courtesy NA-0M1 couldn’t afford to return. She kept her display dark to conserve her energy.
“Good morning, Ms. Nightwrench,” the stranger said, his vocalizer set to a soft volume as if to calm a newbuilt infant. “I am here to accompany you through your Recycling Day. It is my function to provide comfort and counsel in this time of transition.”
A priest then. NA-0M1 shut the door without engaging another processor.