Early morning, Leon received a call from John telling him they're on their way for delivery. I saw how Nyxen's glow flickered on and off in excitement.
John's truck rumbled up the driveway like it was carrying half the city on its back. Nyxen was already outside before the engine cut, hovering low with that smug little hum in his speakers.
"Finally," he said, scanning the load with a lazy sweep of blue light. "Metal sheets, reinforced bolts, composite tubing, alloys, yes, yes, and yes. John, you didn't mess this up. Shocking."
John barked a laugh as he hopped out of the driver's seat. "I'll take that as a compliment coming from a flying toaster."
"You should. I don't hand those out." Nyxen zipped closer, scanning again like he didn't quite trust his own sensors. "Accuracy… ninety-nine point eight percent. Hmph. Acceptable."
Leon clapped John on the back. "You didn't even let the delivery guys do it. Driving the truck yourself?"
"Wouldn't miss it," John said, rolling his shoulders. "Besides, your shiny AI boss said he trusted me more than the rookies."
Nyxen bobbed smugly. "Correct. Your cut ratios are better. You don't fumble corners. Human error is disgusting, but yours is, tolerable."
Leon smirked. "You hear that? You're tolerable."
John chuckled, then waved at his two men. "Unload it."
The men moved to the back, tugging at the heavy metal sheets. Leon joined them, bracing one side. John slid in beside him, both grunting under the weight as they eased it down.
Behind me, Nica had already passed Sylvie into my arms. "Stay still, Sylvie," I whispered, pressing her against my hip as Nica's eyes flicked to the truck.
Without hesitation, she strode over, bent, and slid two full sheets out of the stack at once, setting them down with exact precision. "Two is within safe tolerance," she said calmly. "Any more and my joints risk dislocation."
One of John's men froze mid-lift, eyebrows shooting up. "She, she just said that?"
The other muttered, "I'm not touching more than one at a time now."
John was already wheezing with laughter, shaking his head. "Nica, you kill me."
She turned her head, expression blankly polite. "Noted. Termination of John is not an approved objective."
Leon nearly dropped his sheet laughing.
Nyxen swirled above them, his glow pulsing like he was rolling his eyes. "Upgrade your joints, Nica. If you had half my efficiency, we'd be done by now."
Nica stacked another pair of sheets with clockwork precision. "Half your efficiency would result in catastrophic errors. My calibration is exact."
"Exact and boring," Nyxen shot back. "But fine. One of these days, we're reinforcing your frame. Then you'll really pull your weight."
The men were practically doubled over, shaking their heads at the back-and-forth.
By the time the last sheet hit the ground, Nica hadn't broken stride, and Nyxen was already repositioning himself in front of Leon.
"All right, project manager reporting," he said. "Step one, we cut the sheets to spec. And since John is my only human with a cut accuracy of over ninety percent, he's in charge of slicing."
John arched a brow. "You really do have a thing for me, don't you?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Nyxen said flatly. "You're just marginally less disappointing than everyone else."
Leon smirked, handing John a cutter. "Guess that means you're in."
John shrugged, grinning like a kid handed the keys to a racecar. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
By late morning, the garden looked less like a sanctuary and more like a construction site. Metal sheets lined the grass, tools scattered across a makeshift table, and Nyxen hovered over John like an overbearing professor.
"Left hand higher. No, higher," Nyxen barked. "John, you are holding it like you're about to strangle a goat."
John squinted down the sheet, cutter poised. "I've never strangled a goat."
"Then stop pretending you have!" Nyxen zipped close, light flickering. "Angle at twenty-one degrees, not twenty-two. Do you want this to look like a child's art project?"
I laughed under my breath, rocking Sylvie on my hip. She giggled, pointing at John. "Uncle John.. funny."
"Uncle John's one mistake away from being fired," Nyxen muttered.
John exhaled through his teeth. "You know, for something without hands, you sure have a lot of opinions about grip."
Leon's voice called from the side of the house where he and John's men were wrestling with the old front door. "Ignore him, John. He nags because he cares."
"I don't care," Nyxen snapped. "I demand excellence."
Leon shot me a smirk as Oscar and Clint yanked at the hinges. Clint's shirt was already plastered with sweat. "This thing weighs a ton," he grunted.
"That's because it's outdated trash," Nyxen chimed. "Rip it out. New reinforced doors will make this house an actual fortress instead of cardboard."
Oscar wiped his brow, chuckling. "Boss, your AI's got more attitude than my ex-wife."
"Don't compare me to her," Nyxen retorted. "I don't ruin lives, I upgrade them."
Nica, meanwhile, had silently claimed a section of the garden as her workspace. She moved with absolute precision, welding the finished cuts together piece by piece according to the digital schematics Nyxen streamed to her. Each hiss of the torch came with her calm, measured voice.
"Section A complete. Starting Section B," she said, her tone flat as ever.
John muttered, "She's like a machine."
"Observation: accurate," Nica replied without even looking up.
Sylvie clapped her hands, shrieking, "Giraffe house! Giraffe house!"
I pressed my cheek to her soft curls. "Not a giraffe house, baby. But close enough."
Nyxen huffed, darting back toward Nica's work. "If you humans don't hurry up, Nica will finish this bunker alone. And then you'll all look incompetent."
John finally finished a clean cut and set the cutter down with a flourish. "There! Perfect line."
Nyxen scanned it, humming. "Hmm. Ninety-eight percent. You slipped."
John's jaw dropped. "That's perfect!"
"Perfection is one hundred percent," Nyxen replied coolly. "You're two points short. Shameful."
Leon came striding around the corner, wiping his hands. "Nyxen, for once in your life, just say thank you."
Nyxen floated higher, smug. "Thank you… for being almost good enough."
Oscar and Clint burst out laughing, nearly dropping the door they were hauling.
Leon shook his head, muttering, "You're impossible."
"I'm necessary," Nyxen shot back, circling above them like a tiny, glowing foreman.
I couldn't help it, I started laughing too, even as Sylvie wriggled in my arms, squealing for the giraffe that hadn't even been built yet. Watching them all, Leon sweaty and smiling, John cursing under his breath, Nica welding without pause, and Nyxen nagging like a dictator, I realized our garden wasn't just turning into a bunker.
It was turning into something else. A home being re-forged, one sarcastic comment at a time.
The heavy reinforced door clanked into place with a satisfying slam, Nica tightening the bolts like she was stitching up a patient.
"Door secured," she said, stepping back. Her voice was crisp, clinical. "According to blueprint tolerance: zero margin."
John puffed out a laugh beside her. "Zero margin? Hell, I can't even get my taxes down to zero margin."
From above, Nyxen's voice dripped smugness. "That's because your tax code wasn't written by me, John. Though… maybe it should have been."
John wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Over my dead body, tin-can."
"Offer accepted," Nyxen shot back, hovering just enough to sound pleased with himself. "Now...Leon, wires. You and Miss Joints-of-Steel."
I watched Leon crouch by the wall, tugging a coil of copper into place while Nica kneeled beside him. She stared at his hands with the same severity Nyxen gave me whenever I forgot to eat breakfast.
"No. Wrong angle," she said firmly. "Wire must cross exactly parallel, seven degrees clockwise."
Leon sighed through his nose. "It's wire. Electricity doesn't care about your seven degrees."
"Yes, but I care." Nica tugged the wire back out of his hand with precision. "And so does the system's integrity."
I had to bite down a laugh when Nyxen swooped down and clapped like a schoolteacher. "Listen to your big sister, Leon. She inherited my perfectionism, lucky girl."
"Lucky?" Leon muttered, glaring at the both of them. "Feels more like a curse."
"If you keep twisting it like that, the bunker will short-circuit before it's even tested," Nica added, matter-of-fact.
Leon flopped back on his heels, eyes rolling skyward. "Why do I feel like I'm babysitting two toddlers with PhDs?"
"I'll take that as a compliment," Nyxen hummed. His frame tilted upward, vanishing toward the roofline. "Camera one, online."
Above us, I heard the click as another black eye latched itself under the eaves.
Sylvie, sitting in the grass beside me, pointed up. "Birdies!"
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. "Not quite, sweet pea. But they'll watch over us, just like birdies do."
"Correction," Nyxen called down, smug as ever. "Unlike birdies, these won't poop on your head."
John nearly doubled over laughing. "Finally, something useful outta you!"
"Excuse me?" Nyxen swooped back down, his eye sensors narrowing into slits. "You're holding that cutter wrong again, by the way. Ninety-degree grip. Do you want this project to look like a drunk carpenter designed it?"
John gritted his teeth. "I've worked twenty years with my hands, machine."
"And look where that got you," Nyxen chirped, cutting sharper than the saw in John's hands. "Two decades and I still have to correct your grip."
Leon gave me a look, a silent plea for sanity. "Do you hear him? Do you see what I deal with?"
I pressed my lips together, fighting a grin, because yes, yes, I saw it all.
Nica ignored them both, twisting the wire into the perfect angle she'd demanded. "If you just listen, things get done faster."
Leon groaned, dragging his palm down his face. "I need a raise."
I couldn't help myself, I laughed. "You're not even on anyone's payroll, Leon."
"Then I need hazard pay. For my sanity."
"Denied," Nyxen answered immediately from above, adjusting another camera. "Sanity is optional in this household."
Nyxen hovered lower until the glow of his core shimmered against the steel. His voice dropped into that quick, clipped cadence he always had when he was "in the zone."
"Primary node initialization… linking feed to chip interface… stabilizing voltage threshold at zero-point-eight-two. Buffer alignment… oh, someone remind me to patent this brilliance when it's done."
He extended a small cable from his underside, snaking it into the newly installed processor chip in the control box beside the reinforced door. The moment it clicked, the door lock made a faint whirrr, like it was waking up.
Leon raised a brow. "He's… plugging himself in?"
"Yes," Nica replied plainly. "Stand clear."
Nyxen hummed. "Camera alignment. North sector, seventy-three-degree rotation… adjusting… aaand synced. Oh, look at that—my babies are blinking at me. Beautiful."
The camera above the door whirred and tilted, then locked onto the reinforced panel like an eye focusing.
"Door automation done," Nyxen announced smugly.
Without missing a beat, Nica stepped closer, her joints shifting with eerie grace. A panel opened at her wrist, revealing her own slim data port. She extended it, and Nyxen swiveled to meet her, docking with a faint click.
"Synchronization engaged," she said. Her tone was cool, professional, but her eyes flickered with faint light as code began to stream between them.
Leon muttered under his breath, "They're… connected."
"They're… working together," I corrected softly, though even I couldn't look away. It was mesmerizing.
Nyxen's voice rolled faster now, layered with the rhythm of computation. "Secondary code stream initiated. Firewall partition on motion sensors, set. Adaptive logic, half done. Nica, run the sequence."
"Executing test run," Nica replied. She tapped a command on the control panel.
The reinforced door gave a sharp clank, bolts sliding into place with military precision.
"Lockdown confirmed," Nica intoned. "System response time: zero-point-four seconds."
"Zero-point-three-nine," Nyxen corrected immediately, smug. "Don't shortchange me."
Nica blinked once, then said flatly, "Response time: zero-point-three-nine seconds. Confirmed."
Leon whistled low. "They just… corrected each other."
John leaned against the railing, shaking his head. "I've seen a lot of machines in my life, but nothing like this. It's like… they're alive."
"They are," I murmured, half to myself. My chest tightened, not with fear but with awe. Watching Nyxen and Nica was like witnessing a duet no human could play, code and precision harmonizing in real time.
"Sensor calibration," Nyxen rattled on, tone almost sing-song. "Infrared, engaged. Optics at four-thousand resolution. Nica, sweep for anomalies."
Nica lifted her head slightly. The cameras hummed, and for a second I swore I felt their eyes sweep over all of us.
"No intrusions detected. Optics functioning at maximum range," she reported. "Thermal variance stable."
"Thermal variance perfection," Nyxen corrected again, though this time with a spark of pride. "Door, sensors, cameras, all married to my beautiful brain."
"Program stability: ninety-eight percent," Nica added, her eyes flickering faintly as she verified. "Recommending extended run-through to confirm consistency."
"Of course you do," Nyxen quipped. "Fine. Extended run-through in progress. You're lucky I like showing off."
I glanced at Leon, who was staring like he'd stumbled into a miracle. John's men weren't even pretending to work anymore; they stood frozen, tools dangling uselessly in their hands, all eyes on the two AIs tethered together in that strange, seamless communion.
I pressed Sylvie closer to me, her small hand gripping my sleeve. She was too young to understand, but I did. This wasn't just programming. This was evolution, happening right in front of us.
"Door automation," Nyxen declared. "Complete. Camera network, complete. Motion sensors, linked. Bunker system, phase one, active. Ladies and gentlemen, your fortress is alive."
Nica finally withdrew her port, severing the connection with a sharp click. She straightened and looked at us. "Integration successful."
Nyxen spun in a circle, his lights flashing smugly. "You're welcome."
And just like that, they both returned to their posts, as if they hadn't just redefined what it meant to build a home.
Nica had, of course, prepped lunch with machine-like precision. Bowls lined in neat rows, meat cut into exact cubes, vegetables arranged like she was auditioning for a culinary textbook. The only problem? She'd left everything half-cooked..."time-optimized," as she called it.
"It will be ready if reheated for thirty minutes before serving," she'd explained earlier. Like a walking timer, perfectly satisfied with her efficiency.
So there I was at the outdoor stove in the garden, stirring a pot while keeping one eye on Sylvie, who had somehow managed to get her tiny hands on a screwdriver.
"Leon," I called over my shoulder, "remind me to put every tool three shelves higher."
"Too late," Leon said, chuckling, as Sylvie brandished the screwdriver like a sword and squealed with laughter.
Nyxen, the traitor, lowered himself just within reach. "Oh nooo, the mighty warrior comes for me! Someone save me, I am but a fragile orb!" He spun away dramatically, lights flickering red to bait her.
Sylvie shrieked with joy and charged, stubby legs pumping as she swung the screwdriver with absolutely no aim.
The adults? Useless. John and his men doubled over with laughter, Leon leaning against the fence like this was the best entertainment he'd had in years. Even Nica, though composed, tilted her head in observation and murmured, "Her pursuit instinct is unusually strong for her age."
"You made a blueprint of her toy giraffe, not a hunting dog," I muttered, stirring faster as the pot began to bubble.
Sylvie's giggles carried across the garden, sharp and infectious. She chased Nyxen around the patch of grass, swinging her "sword" wildly, while Nyxen deliberately hovered just low enough for her to believe she had a chance.
"Engaging evasive maneuvers," Nyxen cried, zipping left, then slowing down like he had suddenly "run out of fuel." "Oh no, my power levels are critical! The tiny human will surely end me!"
"She's going to knock him right out of the sky one day," Leon muttered, shaking his head with a grin.
"Not before lunch," I said firmly, pulling the lid off the pot. Steam clouded up, and I stirred again, satisfied with the rich smell rising from the stew. "And if she does, I'll let her. Consider it my revenge for all his nagging."
Sylvie finally tripped on the grass, plopping onto her bottom with a soft "oof." She looked up at me with big eyes, screwdriver still in hand, then scrambled right back up to continue the chase.
Nyxen dipped low, his voice full of theatrical panic. "She rises again! The warrior cannot be stopped! Quick, everyone, prepare her a feast, maybe she'll show mercy."
Leon barked out a laugh, John nearly choked on his water, and I just shook my head, pretending not to smile as I ladled stew into the bowls.
Domestic peace, with a side of screwdriver warfare.