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“Today’s specials consist of cucumber martinis and a refreshing Bellini.”

Ooh. Bellini. I liked those. It was probably a bit early in the day to begin drinking but that had never stopped me before. I took a seat next to Zee. “I’ll have a Bellini, please Tom.”

Tom grinned. “Coming right up.” He took himself off and began preparing the cocktail.

Zee’s eyebrows lifted. “I told you! It’s fucked.”

“Wait . . . what?”

“Cucumbers, Adam! Fucking cucumbers!”

Most of the time, I was able to decipher Zee’s rapid-fire, random thoughts, but even I was struggling. “You don’t like cucumbers?”

“Are you fucking with me? I love fucking cucumbers. I once filmed a reel of me eating a cucumber. The insane number of fucking views fed me for days.”

I doubted that reel showed him eating a cucumber like an average person eats a cucumber.

“Where best to shove cucumbers is not the issue here, babycakes.” He pointed a purple, glittery nail at Tom’s back. “A Bellini?” he whispered. “Hey, Tom, will you whip me up your Deceitful Daiquiri, and sprinkle in some blow for extra kick?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” Tom said, chipper and bright. He placed my Bellini on an SOS Hotel coaster and slid it over to me. “I do not have that drink in my inventory. But I can make you the Classic Daiquiri?”

Zee spluttered again and thrust both hands at Tom in exasperation.

My heart dropped. Oh no. “Tom, are you alright?”

“As an artificial bartender, I am incapable of experiencing emotions. However, I’m content in my environment, sir, and happy to serve.”

“Oh dear.”

“It’s a fucking travesty!” Zee exclaimed, his expression horrified.

“I’m sorry if my service displeases you,” Tom said, with a wooden smile. “Please complete a customer feedback form before you leave, and I’ll be sure to pass your comments on to the management.”

“Your fucking attitude displeases me. Why are you so nice, and what have you done with our Tom Collins?” Zee demanded, leaning on the bar.

The AI bartender blinked, tilted his head, and said in monotone, “There is only one Tom Collins on these premises, and I am he.”

“The fuck you are,” Zee growled. “Tom’s an asshole, but he’s our asshole. He’s rude, he hates everyone, and he sometimes tries to kill people. Bring him back.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot acquiesce to your request.”

“I’ll fucking come back there and pull your plug, Not Tom.”

Zee continued to argue, but was having about as much success as arguing with a toaster. Something had gone wrong with Tom Collins. Or, more accurately, he’d been fixed. He was the AI bartender he should have been the day I’d unboxed him. He looked like our Tom Collins. Swept-back dark hair, bright brown eyes, neat jacket and trousers. No bow tie though, and our Tom had begun to wear a blue one. No swearing either. And no potent, literal cocktails. If I asked this Tom to poison someone, he definitely would not do that. Not that I’d ever ask Tom to do such a terrible thing. Ever.

They weren’t the only obvious signs that something was wrong with him. The way he moved was different. His speech patterns were too even, too flat. I hadn’t realized exactly how wrong our Tom Collins had been, until now, looking at what he should have been from day one.

Zee slumped on his stool, exasperated. “Adam, do something.”

“Me? What can I do?”

“I don’t know. You set him up. Turn him off and on again?”

“Is there a switch for that?” I eyed Tom and his soulless, flat smile.

“Look at him,” Zee exclaimed. “Nobody is going to want to buy drinks from that. He’s like a creepy sexbot. Ugh, make it stop.”

I had no idea how. Technology wasn’t my thing, and it clearly wasn’t Zee’s thing either. But I did know someone whose thing it might be. Lord Reynard had recognized what model Tom Collins was as soon as he’d arrived, and he had access to all kinds of tech. He’d also noticed Tom had been getting more glitchy of late. He’d be able to help.