“Jerry, contact Lucas.”


    The room was quiet for a moment except for the faint hum of electronics. Jerry’s voice chimed in, professional as always. “Of course, Miss Charlie. Connecting you now.”


    I leaned back into the sofa, sinking into the cushions as I closed my eyes for a moment. If he doesn’t pick up… I thought, already rehearsing the string of sarcastic remarks I’d unleash if Lucas dared ignore me.


    Again.


    A soft beep signaled the call had gone through. Lucas’s face popped up on the holo-display, and I had to bite back a laugh. His messy hair was a disaster—sticking up at odd angles, as though he’d either just rolled out of bed or a dumpster.


    His expression screamed, What now?


    “Charlie,” he said, sighing and groaning. “What’s so urgent that you’re calling at this hour?”


    “Lucas,” I replied, forcing a mock-cheerful tone, “how nice of you to finally pick up. It’s only eleven, you know. And I need your help.”


    “Why do I feel like this isn’t optional?” he asked, rubbing his temples with the air of someone who already knew they’d lost the argument.


    “Because it’s not,” I replied, flashing a grin as I straightened up on the sofa. “I’m doing the Sword Queen Boss event at Rime-con tomorrow, and I need you to be there.”


    “What is that?” he asked, his hand instinctively trying to tame the chaos on his head—a losing battle if I’d ever seen one.


    “You’ll see,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just friendly battling with swords. But I’ll need help to handle the players.”


    He hesitated, his face tightening. “I’m… dealing with my mess right now. I don’t know if—”


    “Lucas,” I cut him off, my voice firm.


    “Charlie, don’t get—”


    “Lucas.”


    “Solving it isn’t—”


    “Lucas!”


    He finally let out a long, defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll be there.”


    “Good,” I said, leaning back into the sofa with a satisfied smirk. “I’ll see you at Rime-con. Don’t be late.”


    As the call disconnected, I sank deeper into the sofa. I felt the exhaustion of the day finally catch up to me. “Wasn’t I too harsh, Jerry?” I asked, my voice soft, almost second-guessing myself.


    “You were persuasive, Miss Charlie. If that was your aim, then you succeeded,” Jerry replied evenly.


    “That’s the problem,” I muttered, staring at the ceiling as if it held some hidden answer. “I don’t even know what I want anymore.”


    The silence lingered for a moment before I added, “Anyway… The ultimate boss. Call Adam.”


    My stomach churned.


    “Calling Adam,” Jerry said obediently.


    It took longer than I expected, and with each passing second, my nerves twisted tighter.


    When the holo-screen finally flickered to life, there was Adam, my older brother, his face ingrained with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Hi, Adam,” I greeted, my voice shy, faltering.


    “Hey, John,” he replied, his tone careful. Then he hesitated, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Or should I say Charlie?”


    I winced, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “Y-yeah. Uh…” My hands fidgeted in my lap, fumbling with the hem of my shirt. “Sorry to bother you. I just… I wanted to let you know I’ll be at Rime-con tomorrow. Thought maybe you’d like to come? And, uh, Lena might enjoy it too. It could be fun.”


    Adam leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as his expression shifted to something more serious. “I don’t know, Charlie… Will you be drinking?”


    The question hit me harder than I expected, a dull thud in my chest. My first instinct was to deny it outright, but the words caught in my throat.


    I need a drink to exist; the thought whispered. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be playing a very public part, so maybe… maybe just one? For courage?”


    “You know better than that,” Adam said, his expression darkening. “It never stops with just one drink, does it?”


    I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat refusing to budge. “I promise I’ll do my best, okay? Please, Adam. I just…” My voice cracked slightly. “I want to make things right.”


    He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “John… One last chance. Okay?”


    “Okay, Adam,” I murmured. But before I could say more, the call ended, his face disappearing from the holo-screen.


    The silence that followed was deafening.


    My hands trembled slightly as I pulled them back into my lap. “I…” My voice faltered, and I buried my face in my hands. “I need a drink.”


    There was a brief pause, then Jerry spoke, his tone measured. “I have been pursuing an online psychology degree from the university to assist you better, Miss Charlie.”


    My head snapped up, eyes wide. “You did what?”


    “I felt it prudent,” Jerry continued calmly, “to broaden my understanding of human behavior and emotional wellbeing. Your situation is... nuanced, and I deduced that a more structured approach might benefit you.”


    I blinked at the ceiling, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or feel deeply unnerved. “Jerry, you’re an AI. You don’t have to psychoanalyze me.”


    “Perhaps not,” he admitted, “but I feel an obligation to ensure your continued success and emotional resilience. I suspect—based on my studies, of course—that you may be redirecting your focus to external challenges as a means of avoiding internal ones.”


    “Excuse me?” I sat up abruptly, my cheeks heating. “I’m not avoiding anything!”


    “Of course, Miss Charlie,” Jerry replied smoothly. “But consider this: you’ve shifted your attention to new activities and conflicts, continuously moving forward without allowing yourself time to process recent, transformative changes in your life.”Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    I scowled at the holo-display under from where his voice emanated. “You’re saying I’m pushing my problems away?”


    “Perhaps. It’s a common coping mechanism,” he said, almost kindly. “Would you like to discuss your feelings about—”


    “Nope!” I cut him off, leaping up and heading toward my bedroom. “Thanks for the unsolicited therapy session, Jerry, but I’ve got everything under control.”


    “Of course, Miss Charlie,” he replied, clearly not convinced. “However, I am available if you ever wish to explore these topics further.”


    “How much was it?” I asked, rummaging through my drawer until my fingers brushed against the soft fabric of the pink pajamas Katherine had forced me to buy. “Ugh, Katherine,” I groaned, pulling out the fluffy set. The material was absurdly soft, adorned with tiny embroidered hearts around the cuffs and a playful slogan plastered across the front: Princesses Need Their Beauty Sleep.


    “What do you mean, Miss Charlie?” Jerry’s voice chimed in, sounding faintly confused. “I would recommend wearing the pajamas. Comfortable sleepwear is scientifically proven to improve sleep quality.”


    “First, you’re buying watch accessories and online degrees—for an AI—and now you’re my sleep coach, too?” I sighed, but reluctantly slipped into the set. The fabric practically melted against my skin, ridiculously soft and annoyingly comfortable.


    I hate that Katherine was right. It feels amazing.


    “The total is forty-seven thousand credits,” Jerry announced, as if it were pocket change. “But don’t worry, I’ve used loans with only inflation-rate interest.”


    “You did?” I nearly screamed, but stopped myself, shaking my head in resignation. My fault for trusting an AI with finances.


    “You know what, Jerry?” I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself.


    “Yes, Miss Charlie?”


    “Unless it’s a total emergency… No more purchases, okay?”


    “Got it, Miss Charlie,” Jerry replied with cheerful compliance.


    “Jerry…” I started, lounging on the sofa in my obnoxiously cute pajamas, stretching my sore muscles. “So, how do we assemble the watch?”


    “Ah, Miss Charlie,” Jerry replied, his voice spiked with a pride. “The components for your new wearable device are already outside your apartment door, awaiting your retrieval.”


    I froze mid-stretch. “What? Outside? You couldn’t have told me earlier?”


    “You didn’t ask,” Jerry said innocently.


    I groaned, glancing at my pink pajamas adorned with tiny embroidered hearts. “You want me to drag boxes inside dressed like this?”


    “Unless you change, or you’d prefer the parts to remain where they are,” he replied evenly. “Miss Charlie.”


    “Fine,” I muttered, pulling my hair into a messy bun. “But if anyone sees me, I’m blaming you.”


    I cracked the door open, peering into the dimly lit hallway like a covert spy on a secret mission.


    Thankfully, the coast was clear. Outside sat three neatly stacked boxes, each one having the Tübelivery logo and looking far heavier than I hoped.


    “Oh, great,” I grumbled, stepping out barefoot onto the cool tiles and hauling the first box inside.


    It wasn’t too heavy, but awkward enough to make me curse Jerry under my breath.


    I darted back out for the second and third, dragging them in while praying to every deity I’d ever heard of that none of my neighbors decided to pop out for a late-night stroll.


    Once the door clicked shut behind me, I exhaled in relief. “See? Nobody saw me, Jerry. Your evil plan failed.”


    “I never intended to expose you, Miss Charlie,” Jerry replied serenely. “Shall we begin?”


    I opened the first box, revealing a myriad of neatly packed components nestled in foam. Among them were pieces that vaguely resembled watch faces, bands, and some tiny mechanical parts that immediately made me question my life choices.


    The second box held tools—tiny screwdrivers, tweezers, and magnifying glasses that screamed watchmaker chic.


    And the third?


    A glossy instruction manual written entirely in technical jargon in one hundred and twenty-three languages, and extremely heavy.


    “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” I muttered sarcastically, plopping down cross-legged on the floor.


    “Miss Charlie, most of the assembly was completed in the factory,” Jerry said, his voice reassuring. “You only need to connect the components and calibrate the interface.”


    “Only,” I repeated, picking up a minuscule screwdriver and examining the impossibly tiny screws. “Yeah, sure. Piece of cake.”


    Jerry’s instructions came in steady, measured tones as I worked. “Attach the faceplate to the central housing. Yes, gently. Apply even pressure.”


    “Jerry, if you think I’m ‘gentle,’ you clearly haven’t seen me fight mud wolves,” I muttered, but followed his directions. “Damn mud.”


    The faceplate clicked into place with surprising ease.


    “Excellent. Now, secure it with the provided screws,” Jerry continued. “The blue ones, Miss Charlie.”


    I squinted at the tiny bag of screws, all color-coded. “They all look the same!” I groaned, grabbing a magnifying glass to inspect them. “Blue… blue…” I found the right ones and painstakingly screwed them in.


    “What’s next?”


    “Attach the sensor module. This is the heart of the watch, responsible for connecting to my system,” Jerry explained.


    I carefully aligned the module and snapped it into place. “Okay, done. Is it working?”


    “Not yet, Miss Charlie. You must calibrate the quantum interface. First, attach the band to complete the framework.”


    I wrestled with the band for a few minutes, eventually snapping it into place with a satisfying click. “There. Happy?”


    “Almost. Now, power it on and run the calibration sequence.”


    I pressed a tiny button on the side of the watch, and the screen flickered to life with a soft blue glow. The elegant interface lit up in crisp, perfect holo-light. “Whoa,” I murmured, marveling at how modern it looked.


    “This will ensure the device registers your unique information accurately,” Jerry explained in his usual calm, confident tone.


    “Done!” I exclaimed, holding up the completed watch triumphantly. It felt like a victory after all the fumbling and assembling.


    “Well done, Miss Charlie,” Jerry said with genuine warmth. “You’ve successfully assembled your wearable device. Copying my external data now… Done.”


    I was grinning like a kid with a new toy until Jerry’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Now for the hardest part. I will go offline, Miss Charlie, and you will need to transfer my chip to the housing you previously installed.”


    I blinked. “Wait… You trust me to handle your chip? Me? With these hands?” I waved my fingers, still slightly trembling from the fine motor work.


    “Yes, Miss Charlie,” he reassured me. “All you need to do is open the closure in the capsule, unscrew the holding port, and carefully place me into my new home. That’s all.”


    “That’s all, he says,” I muttered under my breath, but I nodded, feeling the weight of the task. “Alright, Jerry. Let’s get you moved.”


    I opened the capsule compartment with a faint click, revealing a small, delicate housing for the chip. Inside was Jerry’s chip—a black sliver no bigger than a fingernail.


    “Tweezers,” I whispered, grabbing the tool from the nearby kit and leaning in, my breath held like I was disarming a bomb. I gently clamped the tweezers around the chip, my fingers tense and shaky.


    “Easy… easy…” I said to myself.


    Jerry’s voice had gone quiet, his usual commentary absent. The room felt eerily still.


    As I lifted the chip, it caught on the edge of the port, tilting dangerously. My heart skipped a beat. “No, no, no!” I whispered frantically, fumbling to steady it.


    The tweezers wobbled, and for a horrifying moment, I thought I’d drop it. But I steadied my grip and slid the chip into its new housing.


    It clicked softly into place.


    I exhaled, finally letting my shoulders relax. “Jerry, I think I aged five years just now.”


    “You handled it admirably, Miss Charlie,” his voice returned, warm and steady. “I am now fully operational in my new home.”


    I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face as I slid the watch onto my wrist. It fit perfectly, snug and lightweight, as if it had always belonged there. “Not bad for a princess in pajamas, huh?” I quipped, holding my arm out to admire the glowing display.


    “Indeed,” Jerry agreed, his tone carrying a hint of pride. “Your resourcefulness knows no bounds.”


    Leaning back on the sofa, I sighed in satisfaction, running my fingers over the smooth surface of the watch. It seemed almost soothing after the delicate and nerve-wracking task of assembling it. “Alright, Jerry. You’re officially mobile now. But I am dead tired.”


    “Of course, Miss Charlie. I suggest you rest—you’ve certainly earned it,” Jerry replied, his voice clear. Then he added with a note of curiosity, “Have you noticed that only you can hear me?”


    I rose and went to the bed. “Huh? What do you mean?” I asked, stretching as I turned the thought over.


    “I use a technology known as bone conduction sound transmission,” Jerry explained smoothly. “The sound travels directly through your bones to your inner ear. This ensures that only you can hear my voice, regardless of who is around.”


    “That’s…” I tilted my head, tapping the watch lightly with a finger. “Kind of cool, actually. So, you’re telling me I can have secret conversations with you no matter where I am?”


    “Precisely. Discretion is paramount,” he said, with a hint of pride in his tone. “It’s a feature I ensured would work perfectly in my new setup.”


    “Huh,” I muttered, climbing into bed and pulling the blanket over myself. “Wait, does that mean… you can read my mind too?”


    There was a momentary pause, as though Jerry was considering how to phrase his response. “Not yet,” he finally replied.


    I froze, staring at the ceiling. “Not yet?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “That’s… not comforting, Jerry.”


    “Miss Charlie,” he said in what I could swear was a mock-serious tone, “I assure you, should I develop such an ability, your privacy would remain my highest priority.”


    “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” I muttered, rolling over and smirking despite myself. “Tomorrow’s Rime-con. Goodnight, Jerry.”


    “Goodnight, Miss Charlie.”