Chapter 9 · Continued
Normal Parameters
“It was fine,” she said, setting down her purse. “Honestly, I’m more concerned about you right now.”
Cam tilted his head. “That assessment appears inaccurate.”
Jane laughed softly. “Why?”
“You have visually checked my status seven times since entering the residence.”
Jane opened her mouth and paused. “…Have I?”
“Yes.”
There was no judgment in the statement.
Only observation.
“Your vocal tone and body-tension indicators also suggest elevated concern prioritization.”
Jane stared at him, then shook her head with a smile. “Okay. See? That’s the stuff that’s weirdly unsettling.”
Cam considered that. “I can attempt to be less observant.”
Jane answered too quickly. “No. Don’t.”
Something shifted slightly in his projected expression.
Not quite a smile.
Close.
“I am glad your social outing was successful.”
Jane slipped off her shoes. “Thanks.”
Cam paused before adding, “Chris appears statistically compatible with your humor patterns.”
Jane stopped halfway through removing her jacket. “…Excuse me?”
“You have smiled thirty-seven percent more frequently since returning than your baseline average.”
Jane stared at him. “Oh my God.”
Cam blinked once. “That was intended as positive feedback.”
Monday meant returning to work.
Jane logged in shortly before eight and found coffee waiting beside her desk.
She looked toward Cam. “You made coffee?”
“Yes.”
Jane smiled into the mug.
Honestly, he seemed better.
Smoother.
More like himself.
There were no freezes, strange pauses, or fractured expressions attempting to force their way through static. Whatever Chris had done appeared to have worked.
Jane still didn’t completely understand the technical explanation, but anyone would probably struggle with two behavioral systems fighting for the same space.
Human or otherwise.
The morning passed quietly.
Emails.
Meetings.
Spreadsheets that appeared personally offended by her existence.
Around lunchtime, Jane stood and stretched. “I should deal with the laundry before I forget again.”
She picked up the basket and started toward the laundry room.
Then her work phone rang.
Jane stopped. “Oh no.”
The screen displayed:
MANDATORY TEAM MEETING
She briefly closed her eyes. “Of course.”
Cam watched her. “Would you like me to complete the laundry?”
Jane looked between him and the phone, already dreading the call. “Yes, please. I forgot about this meeting, and it’ll probably drag on forever.”
Cam nodded. “I can complete the task.”
“Thanks.”
Jane disappeared into meeting hell.
Two hours vanished.
At one point, she vaguely registered the washing machine running in the other room.
Later, she heard the dishwasher.
But someone was arguing about document-version control and workflow permissions, and Jane didn’t possess the emotional strength to investigate household appliance noises.