The thought settled into his chest like a stone. He thought of his own pack, the communal meals that had been the center of their social structure. The arguments and laughter and shared silences around a fire. The simple comfort of eating beside people who knew you, who belonged to you and to whom you belonged.
Had she ever known that? Had her nursemaid genuinely cared for her, or had she been simply another guardian? The AI that had raised her didn’t seem to understand—or care—what that isolation had cost her.
“If she tried to leave,” he said softly, “would you stop her?”
ARIS’s response came through a speaker near his ear, equally quiet.
“My directive is to protect her. I would take whatever actions necessary to ensure her safety.”
“Including forcing her to stay against her will.”
“Her ‘will’ has been shaped by incomplete information and limited experience. She is not capable of making informed decisions about risks she has never faced. Until that changes, I must act in her best interest.”
“You mean your interpretation of her best interest.”
“My interpretation is based on objective data and clearly defined parameters. It is not subject to emotional bias or short-term thinking. In this, I am more reliable than any organic guardian could be.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides, his claws digging into his palms. He forced them to relax and forced his expression into something neutral before stepping into the kitchen.
She turned at his entrance, her face lighting up with that brilliant smile he was beginning to associate with her.
“You came! I was starting to worry you’d gotten lost. The tower can be confusing if you’re not used to it.”
“The stairs go one direction. It would be difficult to lose my way.”
She laughed, a bright, unexpected sound that made something twist in his chest. “You’d be surprised. I got lost constantly when I was small. Ari had to guide me at least twice a day.”
He filed that information away. The AI could track her location precisely enough to “find” her wherever she went. Of course it could. It was always watching her.
“What are you making?” he asked, moving closer to the cooking area.
“Vegetable stew. And bread—it’s almost finished rising.” She gestured towards a cloth-covered bowl on the counter. “I hope you like vegetables. I don’t have access to real meat, only protein synthesized from the tower’s systems. It’s nutritionally complete, but the texture is...” She wrinkled her nose. “Questionable.”
“Vegetables are fine.”
“Good. Excellent. That’s—” She stopped, pressing her hands against her cheeks as if trying to physically contain her excitement. “I’m sorry. I’m being strange. I’ve just never cookedfor anyone before, and I want it to be good, and I keep thinking of all the ways it could go wrong?—”
“It smells good.”
“Does it?” Her whole body seemed to relax at the reassurance. “Ari says my cooking is adequate, but I’ve always suspected that’s just the polite programming talking.”
The AI isn’t capable of politeness,he thought.It’s capable of whatever manipulation serves its directive.
But he didn’t say that. Instead, he found a seat at the small table set for two—two places, two plates, two cups—and watched as she continued her preparations. She moved easily around the kitchen as she reached for utensils and ingredients. This kitchen was her domain, these routines her daily structure.
How many meals had she prepared in this room? How many had she eaten alone at this table, the second place setting nothing but a fantasy?
“Can I help with anything?” he asked.
She turned, surprised. “Help? With cooking?”
“In my pack, meals were generally communal. Everyone contributed.”
“Oh.” A flash of longing crossed her face. “I’ve read about that. Communal living. Shared responsibilities. It sounds...” She trailed off, stirring the pot without looking at it.
“It sounds what?”
“Crowded.” She laughed at herself. “I know that’s a strange thing to say. I’ve spent my whole life alone, and the thought of being surrounded by people seems overwhelming. But also...” Hervoice softened. “Also wonderful. To never be alone. To always have someone nearby.”
