In a paperless corporate office space, some time the future…

For the third day in a row, X017 sat down across from Jim in the cafeteria, as if this was normal. It wasn’t.

Jim paused mid-bite, his ham sandwich hovering inches from his face, and watched as the company’s only cybernetic employee carefully adjusted the chair to sit perfectly parallel to the table. X017’s movements were smooth and deliberate, like he was auditioning for a "How to Sit Like a Human" instructional video.

“You know, X,” Jim said, finally setting the sandwich down, “this—” he gestured between them, “isn’t exactly what you’d call a social norm.”

X017 tilted his head slightly, a motion Jim had already identified as ‘processing human confusion.’ “I have observed that humans often eat lunch in pairs or groups. Am I mistaken?”

“No, that part’s right,” Jim said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “But usually, those groups are… you know, people who actually talk to each other.”

“We are talking now,” X017 replied matter-of-factly. His voice, though even and measured, carried the faintest edge of pride, as if he’d just solved a puzzle Jim wasn’t aware of.

Jim smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Touché. Okay, fair enough. But you’re, uh, kind of a wildcard in the whole ‘lunchtime small talk’ department. Most people don’t sit down and start asking about the tensile strength of sandwich bread.”

“It is a valid query,” X017 said, undeterred. “If the structural integrity of bread is compromised, it affects the sandwich’s overall functionality. Would you not agree?”

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Jim blinked. “I—you know what? Sure. Can’t argue with that logic.”

Satisfied, X017 leaned back slightly, mimicking Jim’s posture. It was eerily precise. Jim decided not to think too hard about it and took another bite of his sandwich, keeping one eye on his robotic companion.

“So,” Jim said after a moment, “are you just… observing me? Like some kind of lunch science experiment?”

“Not precisely,” X017 said. “I have determined that you are the most consistent human presence in the cafeteria during this time period. Your actions provide valuable data for understanding workplace habits.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you’re sitting here because I’m… predictable?”

“Precisely,” X017 replied without a hint of shame.

Jim snorted, shaking his head. “Great. I’m the baseline human. That’s a real ego boost, thanks.”

X017 cocked his head again, processing. “You misunderstand. Your predictability is not a deficiency. It is a strength. In a chaotic environment, consistency provides stability.”

Jim stared at him, unsure whether to feel flattered or vaguely insulted. “I’m… gonna take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as such,” X017 assured him.

They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the cafeteria filling the space between them. Jim was about to dig back into his sandwich when X017 spoke again.

“I observed your interaction with the vending machine yesterday,” X017 said, his tone almost conspiratorial. “It malfunctioned and failed to dispense your selected item. You appeared frustrated.”

Jim groaned, leaning forward. “Don’t remind me. That machine’s been eating my money for weeks. I am one cheated Snickers bar from round-house kicking that machine!”

X017 nodded slowly, as though this was a grave injustice. “Would you like me to show you how to bypass its currency validation protocol?”

Jim froze mid-sip of his drink. “Wait. Are you… are you telling me you can hack the vending machine?”

X017’s head tilted ever so slightly. “The term ‘hack’ is imprecise. However, I can provide you with the means to obtain snacks without monetary input.”

A grin spread across Jim’s face. “X, my friend, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”