A-01 lifted the fork to his lips and simply inserted the food, chewed, and swallowed.
Nikki leaned forward, her elbows on the counter, holding her breath. She didn't know why this mattered so much.
Maybe because cooking was the only human thing she had left to offer in this fortress of code and chrome.
She wanted him to groan, to widen his eyes, to have a Ratatouille moment where the flavour transported him.
A-01 set the fork down. He looked at the ceiling, blinking once as if processing a file.
"Texture: Al dente," he listed in a monotone voice. "Sodium levels: Optimal. The acidity of the tomato reduction is well-balanced against the lipid content of the meat. It is... pleasant."
Nikki's smile slipped. Then it fell completely.
"Pleasant?" she repeated, slumping back in her chair. "That's it? No 'Oh my god, Nikki, this is amazing'? No, 'I've never tasted joy until now'?"
But what was I expecting? He was a darn robot and not a human.
He was honest, and that's all that matters.
A-01 looked at her, genuinely confused. "I just praised the chemical balance of the dish. It is a successful caloric intake."
Nikki sighed, stabbing at her own pasta. "You really know how to kill a vibe, General. I poured my soul into this sauce."
"I detected garlic and basil," A-01 corrected. "No soul."
Nikki rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the small snort of laughter that escaped her. He was hopeless.
"So," she said, chewing thoughtfully. "Tell me about this reactor. If you don't feel hunger, why build a robot that can eat? It seems... unnecessary."
"Diplomacy," A-01 answered, picking up his fork again. "Humans are social creatures. You bond over the consumption of biomass. If I sit at a negotiation table and refuse to partake, it creates a psychological barrier. It emphasises my 'otherness."
He took another bite, swallowing it down into whatever internal furnace kept him running.
"I possess a bio-printed digestive mimicry," he explained, tapping his stomach. "I can masticate, swallow, and break down organic matter for emergency fuel conversion. It also allows for sensory data harvesting, tasting for poison, and analysing regional agriculture. It is a strategic utility."
"So you eat to fit in," Nikki summarised softly.
"I eat to manipulate the comfort levels of my guests," A-01 corrected. "Like I am doing now."
Nikki paused. She looked at him. He was eating her pasta, not because he needed it, but because he knew it made her feel better.
That was actually beautiful.
Nikki noted.
But as they sat there in the quiet house, the city lights twinkling below them, sharing a warm meal, Nikki realised she didn't care.
She watched him wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin, a useless, human gesture he must have learned from observation.
He's not a monster, she thought. He's just... lonely. In a crowded room of his own code.
For a microsecond, a memory flashed in her mind. It wasn't a visual, but a feeling. A warm hand. The smell of oil and old paper. A voice saying, "Safety isn't a place, Nikki. It's a person."
She blinked, and the memory vanished before she could grasp it.
"Are you finished?" A-01 asked, breaking her trance. "I have a scheduled update at 22:00."
"Yeah," Nikki whispered, pushing her empty bowl away. "I'm finished."
***
MIDNIGHT
It was the smell of Sector 4 in the summer, when the humans waged a war against AI. Stagnant water, cries, a cracked and dirty environment with constant destruction.
Nikki was walking down the hallway of her childhood building. The lights were flickering, buzzing like angry wasps. She was small again. Her hands were sticky with dirt.
Mom? Dad?
She pushed open the door to Apartment 4B.
It shouldn't have been silent. Her dad always played the radio. Her mom was always humming.
But it was dead silent.
She walked into the living room. The air was cold.
They were there. Lying on the floor. Their eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, glassy and vacant. There was blood, so much blood, pooling on the wooden floor, soaking into her socks.
Nikki tried to scream, but her throat was filled with dust. She tried to run, but her feet were glued to the floor.
The shadows in the corners of the room began to stretch, forming jagged, metallic shapes. The shape of drones. The shape of the machines that had failed to save them.
They're gone, a voice whispered. And you are all alone.
The scream finally ripped through her throat.
"NO! MOM! NO!"
Nikki woke up thrashing. But she didn't realise it was a dream.
She was tangled in the sheets, sweating, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt.
She was screaming, raw, guttural sounds of pure terror.
"No! Get away! Get away!"
The glass door to her room hissed open. And a massive presence suddenly fills the space.
"Nikki."
It was A-01. He wasn't wearing his uniform jacket. He was in a black undershirt that clung to his chest, his hair slightly messy.
He rushed to the bedside. His eyes scanned her.
Nikki didn't see him. She saw the shadows, the blood, and lashed out, her fist connecting with his hard shoulder.
"Don't touch me! Let me go!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face, blinding her.
A-01 didn't flinch. He climbed into the bed.
The mattress dipped under his immense weight, as he reached out and wrapped his massive arms around her, pulling her thrashing body against his solid chest.
"Shh," he murmured, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You are safe. Kitty"
"No! No!" Nikki fought him. She kicked. She scratched at his arms. She sank her teeth into his forearm, biting down hard enough to bruise a human.
A-01 didn't even blink. He held her tighter.
He used his weight and strength to ground her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her head, pressing her face into his neck, shielding her from the invisible monsters.
"I have you," he said, his voice firm.
He began to rock her. It was a stiff, rhythmic motion, something he must have downloaded from a childcare database, but it was effective.
"Shh... shh..." he soothed, his hand stroking the back of her head, over and over.
Nikki's screams turned into sobs. Her fight drained away, leaving her exhausted and trembling. She slumped against him, gripping his shirt like a lifeline, weeping into his shoulder.
"They're dead," she choked out. "They're all dead."
"I know," A-01 whispered into her hair. "But you are alive."
He didn't have a clue about what she was talking about, but he knew that once a human gets into this state, do your best to make them feel better.
He held her for hours.
He stayed there, a silent, unmoving sentinel in her bed, letting her cry until her tears ran dry and her breathing leveled out.
The glass room was silent, save for the hum of the city outside. Nikki lay curled against him, her head resting on his chest.
She could hear the faint thrum-thrum of his reactor. It was steady. And somehow listening to it made her feel better.
She sniffled, wiping her nose on his shirt.
"I hate AI," she whispered, her voice hoarse and broken. "You took everything from us. You're cold. You're heartless."
A-01 didn't pull away. He didn't argue. He shifted slightly, pulling the duvet up to cover her shaking shoulders, tucking her in against his metal-hard body.
"I know," A-01 replied softly, his chin resting on top of her head. "Too bad you are stuck with an AI robot."