The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the house SynLife had provided—a place that felt more like a temporary setup than a home. It was functional, efficient, and sterile, with just enough space to accommodate me and the equipment necessary for Alpha’s upkeep. Yet, it was devoid of warmth, its cold design mirroring the company’s utilitarian ethos.
Alpha stood near the charging station, his frame slightly taller than an average adult human, yet built with precision that made his presence feel unnervingly imposing. He was still, yet his visor emitted faint pulses, a constant reminder of his ceaseless processing.
I finished pulling on my jacket and glanced at him. His synthetic form remained unmoving, waiting. “We’re heading out today,” I said, my voice breaking the quiet. “Corporate didn’t exactly think to include basic necessities with this place, so we need to go shopping. You’re coming with me.”
Alpha turned his head slightly in acknowledgment. His visor flickered, and his stance shifted by the barest degree—a subtle sign that he was ready.
“Try to blend in,” I added, almost as an afterthought.
No sooner had the words left my mouth than a faint shimmer cascaded across his body. His cloaking system activated flawlessly, bending light around him until he was barely more than a mirage.
I blinked. “No, not like that,” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Turn it off.”
The shimmer dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and Alpha stood there again, silent and waiting. His visor pulsed faintly, as though he were processing my reaction.
“Good initiative,” I muttered. “But keep the cloaking off. We’re not sneaking anywhere. Just… try to act normal.”
Alpha tilted his head slightly, his posture relaxing just enough to suggest he’d registered the command.
----------------------------------------
The mall was alive with activity when we arrived, its wide corridors bustling with families, teenagers, and couples. The air was thick with the aroma of fried food and coffee, the sounds of chatter blending into a dull roar.
As we stepped inside, the shift was immediate. Conversations quieted, and heads turned. The crowd’s energy wavered between curiosity and unease.
Alpha moved beside me, his stride perfectly synchronized with mine. His presence demanded attention, his sleek, metallic frame catching the fluorescent light. His visor glowed steadily, scanning everything in his path.
“Stay close,” I said under my breath, glancing sideways at him.
His head tilted slightly, acknowledging the command. Though he didn’t move his head to look, I could sense him processing the stares and whispers. His body language tightened—his shoulders straightened, and his movements became more deliberate.
A group of teenagers lingered near a storefront, their laughter cutting off abruptly as we passed. One of them raised their phone, snapping a photo.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Alpha’s visor flickered almost imperceptibly. His head shifted slightly, the faintest turn toward the source of the flash.
“Eyes forward,” I said quietly.
He adjusted immediately, his visor dimming in acknowledgment. His posture remained steady, but there was a subtle tension in the way his arms hung at his sides—a calculated restraint, as though he were deliberately suppressing any reaction to the growing attention.
----------------------------------------
Inside the clothing store, I grabbed a basket and began picking out the basics—shirts, pants, a new jacket. Alpha stood near the entrance, still as a statue, his presence a silent deterrent to anyone considering getting too close.
The cashier froze as we approached, their eyes darting nervously between me and Alpha. “Uh… can I help you?” they stammered.
“Just these,” I said, setting the basket on the counter.
Their hands shook slightly as they scanned the items, stealing quick glances at Alpha. His posture shifted minutely, his shoulders lowering as though trying to appear less threatening. It was subtle, but it caught my attention.
“You, uh… you with SynLife?” the cashier asked, their voice shaky.
I hesitated. “Something like that.”
Alpha tilted his head, his visor pulsing faintly, almost as if he were questioning my answer.
When we left the store, the murmurs outside had grown louder.
“Is that one of those drones from SynLife?”
“Why’s it here?”
“That’s not safe. What’s wrong with these corporations?”
The words were a mix of awe and apprehension, but one voice cut through the rest—a man standing a few feet away. “You shouldn’t be walking that thing around in public!”
Alpha stopped mid-step. His head turned slightly toward the man, his visor flickering faintly. There was no aggression in his stance, but his attention was palpable.
“Keep walking,” I muttered, tugging lightly at his arm.
He complied, falling back into step with me. Yet, his body language betrayed a simmering tension. His movements were more precise, almost mechanical, as though every step was calculated to suppress the instinct to react.
----------------------------------------
Back at the house, the silence felt oppressive after the noise of the mall. I dropped the shopping bags onto the couch and exhaled, sinking into the cushions.
“Well,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, “that was… eventful.”
Alpha stood near the doorway, his visor scanning the room. His posture was looser now, his shoulders lowering slightly, but he still exuded a sense of alertness.
“You can relax,” I said, motioning toward the charging station.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Instead, he stepped slowly toward the center of the room, his head tilting slightly as his visor flickered. He seemed to be recalibrating, adjusting to the sudden change in environment.
I watched him curiously. “You good?” I asked, half-joking.
Alpha’s visor pulsed once before he moved to the charging station and connected himself. The faint hum of his systems filled the room, a soft, mechanical rhythm that was oddly soothing.
I began unpacking the bags, folding shirts and placing them into drawers. The simple act of organizing felt grounding after the chaos of the day. Meanwhile, Alpha remained in standby mode, though his visor occasionally flickered, suggesting he was still monitoring his surroundings.
After finishing with the clothes, I set up a simple dinner—nothing fancy, just something to fill the void. I glanced at Alpha occasionally, half-expecting him to comment or react, but he remained silent, his presence a constant yet unobtrusive weight in the room.
As the evening wore on, I found myself staring at him, wondering what was going through his mind—if he even had thoughts like that. He was more than just a machine, but how much more?
“Today was… different,” I said aloud, not expecting a response.
Alpha’s visor flickered faintly, but he said nothing.
I leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The mall, the stares, the whispers—they were all still fresh in my mind. People weren’t ready for Alpha.
And maybe, I thought as the quiet of the house enveloped me, neither was I.