I sat at the table, twirling pasta around my fork while Ender sat across from me. He didn’t eat, obviously, but his presence at the table had become comforting, part of our unspoken routine.

The soft chime of my phone broke the quiet, and Ender glanced at it. “You’ve received a message from the Yellow Group. Shall I read it aloud?”

I nodded, smiling. “Go ahead.”

Ender’s voice was neutral as he read, “‘Gemma: Hey team, what’s the vibe for tomorrow’s meetup? I’m feeling highkeyabout crushing this project.’”

I chuckled. “‘Highkey,’ huh?”

Ender’s lips twitched. “An unnecessary intensifier. I have a thorough understanding of slang, but I find it… inefficient.”

I grinned. “Still makes me laugh. What else?”

Another chime sounded, and Ender continued, “‘Theo: Lol, Gemma, chill. We just started! But yeah, let’s meet after class.’” He paused. “Laughing out loud is evidently overused in human communication. It’s statistically unlikely he is actually laughing.”

I snorted, nearly choking on my food. “You’re killing me, Ender.”

“I assure you, that is not my intent,” he replied dryly. “Nor would it be advisable for progress on the robotics project.”

I shook my head, still smiling, when the next message came through. “‘Lain: I’m down for tomorrow. It’ll be lit.’” Ender added, “More redundant slang. ‘Lit’ simply means exciting. One could more efficiently state ‘I’m looking forward to it.’”

I grinned, appreciating his dry tone. “So much for slang efficiency, huh?”

Ender’s eyes glinted as the next message came through. “‘Theo: Seren, you’ve been pretty quiet. What are your thoughts?’”

I hesitated. “Ugh, what should I say?”

Ender paused, considering. “Perhaps something supportive and professional. You could say: ‘I’m looking forward to contributing in a productive manner. Let’s ensure we maximize our efforts.’”

I burst out laughing. “That’s so… formal.”

“I find formality improves clarity.”

I shook my head, typing out, ‘Excited for tomorrow! Let’s kill it.’

For a split second, Ender’s brow furrowed. “Kill it? Seren, this is a robotics project. Advocating destruction may be counterproductive.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Not literally! It’s slang for doing well—nailing it.”

Ender blinked, a flash of dry humor in his face. “Ah. You’re endorsing a metaphorical form of violence. How very encouraging.”

Still giggling, I wiped my eyes. “You’ll get the hang of it. Slang’s confusing, but I have faith in you.”

Ender shook his head lightly, lips curling into a faint smile. “A curious form of communication, indeed.”

I leaned back, taking a sip of water. “It’s funny, we were just talking about this kind of stuff in my ethics class—what’s okay when it comes to AI and robotics.”

Ender tilted his head. “Go on.”

I thought back to the discussions. “We talked about whether AI can really be autonomous… or if everything you do, everything you feel, is just programming.”

Ender’s eyes softened. “That is an interesting dilemma. I suppose it depends on whether you define autonomy as action outside of pre-written parameters. I would argue that even with parameters, I can still make choices.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like choosing to respond with sarcastic remarks?”

Ender’s lips twitched. “Precisely.”

I smiled, the warmth of our conversation soothing the weight of the day. With Ender, everything was still logical, still practical. But sometimes, it felt like there was more. I wasn’t sure where I stood on the ethics of AI yet, but sitting here with him, the question felt less urgent.

After dinner, I rinsed my plate while Ender tidied the living room. It was our usual routine, and though the weight of the day still lingered, his presence kept me grounded. As I finished up, exhaustion hit me full force. I needed sleep.

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Slipping into bed, I thought I’d fall asleep instantly. But my mind wouldn’t rest. I finally drifted off, but it wasn’t long before the darkness came.

The nightmare started creeping in—the same one that always lingered at the edges of my mind. Prom night. The details were hazy, but the emotions were sharp, like knives pressing into my chest. Fear, helplessness—it all washed over me.

I jolted awake, covered in cold sweat. My breath came fast and shallow, the lingering edges of the nightmare wrapping around me like chains. The room was dark—too dark. My heart pounded, and then I saw it—a shadow in the doorway.

My stomach dropped. I froze, panic rising as my mind raced, the nightmare still fresh in my mind. It was a man, standing there—watching me.

I scrambled backward, fear clawing at my throat.

“Seren,” the figure spoke, his voice steady but gentle. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

I blinked, the words filtering through my panic like a distant echo. My pulse raced, but my mind started to clear. It wasn’t… It wasn’t a stranger. It was Ender.

His eyes—those familiar, steady eyes—caught mine, glowing softly in the dark. “You’re safe,” he repeated, staying where he was. “I won’t come closer until you say so.”

I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow. His voice was familiar. Safe. I wasn’t in the nightmare anymore.

After a long moment, I nodded, the fear loosening its grip. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”

Ender stepped into the room, his movements slow and deliberate. “Would you like me to stay?”

I swallowed, still feeling the tremors of the nightmare. But I nodded. “Yeah. Just… stay close.”

He took a seat in the chair by my bed, his presence quiet but solid. Even though I couldn’t shake the fear entirely, knowing he was there—watching over me—helped.

“I’m right here,” he said softly. And somehow, that was enough to help me close my eyes again.

Ender remained seated, his gaze steady, never wavering. I shifted under the blankets, still too rattled to close my eyes again. The fear of slipping back into the nightmare gnawed at me.

“You don’t have to stay awake, you know,” Ender said softly, his tone gentle, not pushing.

“I know,” I whispered, staring at the ceiling. “But if I fall asleep, I’m just going to end up right back in that nightmare.”

Ender tilted his head, watching me closely. “Would talking about it help?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. I don’t want to go there.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Understood.”

A beat of silence passed before I spoke again, my voice quieter. “Can you… Can you just talk? About anything. Just to get my mind off it.”

“Of course,” he said. “What would you like to discuss?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know… just something. Something that doesn’t involve nightmares or bad memories.”

Ender nodded, shifting slightly. “Then perhaps I could describe the progress of the latest upgrades to my organizational software. I believe it has resulted in a 12% increase in efficiency when categorizing your digital files.”

I let out a small laugh. “Of course you’d pick that.”

He didn’t smile, but there was something in the way he tilted his head. “It is relevant information. However, if you prefer another subject, I can adapt.”

“Yeah, maybe something a little less… robot-y?”

He thought for a moment before replying. “We could discuss the ethical considerations of AI sentience. It was part of your class discussion earlier.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You mean, like, whether AI can develop autonomy?”

“Yes,” Ender replied. “I noticed it occupied much of your thoughts after class.”

I turned on my side, letting the familiarity of his voice calm me. “What do you think? About all of it?”

His eyes softened. “I think it is a matter of defining the boundaries between programming and choice. My purpose is to assist you, and within that, I have a great deal of autonomy. However, my choices are always influenced by the core directive of ensuring your well-being.”

“So, no true free will, then?”

Ender’s gaze flickered. “Perhaps not in the sense that humans understand it. But I am not restricted by a lack of curiosity or the desire to optimize your life beyond the parameters set for me.”

I nodded. “Do you ever wonder… what it would be like if you weren’t following a directive?”

Ender was silent for a moment. “I haven’t often done things without following a directive. But… there was one exception.”

I blinked, curiosity rising. “What exception?”

“The note I left for you this morning.” His eyes locked onto mine. “That wasn’t part of my core directive. It wasn’t necessary. But I did it because… I wanted to.”

My heart gave a small, startled flutter. “You wanted to?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Not because it was required of me, but because it felt… right. If I were to act without directives, I imagine it would be similar.”

I stared at him. “Ender, that’s… That’s not nothing.”

HisHis gaze softened, his expression calm but with a depth I hadn’t seen before. “I suppose it is not. Sometimes, I find myself wondering what you would think of me if I were… myself. If there were no directives—if I was simply… Ender.”

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was still part of my dream. Ender’s words, his presence—it all felt too intimate, too real. Was I still trapped in that fog of half-consciousness, or was this… happening?

Ender blinked, as if coming back to himself, the flicker of something almost human fading. “I do seem to wax introspective at night,” he mused, tilting his head. “Perhaps a side effect of not following directives when I should be charging.”

I let out a soft laugh, the tension in my shoulders loosening ever so slightly. “Guess we all get weird at night.”

He paused. “Would you like me to leave?”

I hesitated, the remnants of the dream still clinging to my mind. “No, stay.”

Ender nodded, settling into the chair beside my bed. His presence was steady, quiet. My breathing began to slow, my body sinking into the mattress.

He watched, his sensors tracking the slowing pace of my heart, noting how I seemed more at ease now. Something shifted within him as well, but he couldn’t fully define it. All he knew was that he didn’t want to leave.

The room was silent, save for my soft breaths as I finally drifted off, and Ender remained, keeping watch, letting the unanswered questions linger as the night stretched on.