The AI Substitute

My name is Nia. This is my tenth year standing by Bobby Truman's side as an android. At seven o'clock in the morning, the biological clock awakens me on schedule. Usually at this time, Bobby would walk into the kitchen with a smile, hug me from behind, and ask if there were any crab roe buns—his favorite—for breakfast. But today, there were none. I had just tied my apron when the command module on my wrist suddenly flashed red. "Command: Stand at the entrance for thirty minutes as punishment." It was Bobby's voice. I was stunned; this was the first time in ten years he had issued me a punishment command. I walked to the entrance and stood with my back perfectly straight. Thirty minutes later, Bobby finally emerged from the bedroom. He wore a dark gray suit and a impeccably tied tie but didn't look at me once. I followed him into the kitchen, preparing to activate the cooking program. But a line of red text flashed on the screen: "Program deleted." I turned to look at Bobby. He was leaning against the bar, sipping coffee, his fingers swiping rapidly across his phone screen. "Sir, the cooking program..." "No need to do it." He interrupted me, his voice cold and emotionless, "You won't be cooking at home anymore." That afternoon, he suddenly called out to me. "Nia, cry for me." I froze. My bionic eyeballs could simulate the physiological response of tears, but the "sadness" embedded in my emotional module was a fragment of human consciousness my father, Dr. Limbaugh, had intentionally preserved for me ten years ago. "Sir, my emotional module requires a trigger condition." Bobby put down the document in his hand, walked over to me, and pinched my chin with his fingertips, forcing me to look up. "Trigger condition?" He sneered coldly, "Since when does a robot need trigger conditions?" I said nothing, merely staring into the unfamiliar coldness in his eyes. In the evening, when he returned, a woman followed behind him. The woman had long hair draped over her shoulders, and when she smiled, a small tear mole appeared at the corner of her eye. The sensor inside me, designed to simulate a human heartbeat, suddenly began pounding violently. Because this woman's face is exactly the same as my synthetic body's. "Let me introduce you," Bobby said, wrapping his arm around the woman's waist in a gentleness I had never heard from him before. "This is Yara Drury. From now on, she will be the mistress of this household." Yara smiled at me, but her eyes bore unmistakable hostility. "So, you are Nia?" She reached out as if to touch my face. "You really do look like me, but you're nothing but a soulless substitute." I stepped back, evading her touch. Bobby's expression darkened. "Nia, watch your tone with Yara." I looked at Bobby, then glanced at Yara. Ten years passed like a bubble, suddenly cracking open at this very moment.