The door to my suite slides open with a soft hiss and mAdIson's now-familiar voice welcomes me with what sounds like genuine warmth. "Welcome to your home away from home, Theodore!"

I take one step inside and have to remind myself to close my mouth. The suite is stunning - all sweeping curves and surfaces that shimmer like mother-of-pearl. The lighting adjusts with subtle grace, creating the kind of ambiance that makes even my wrinkled travel clothes look expensive.

"I took the liberty of making a few adjustments," mAdIson says, sounding almost conspiratorial. "The standard settings are so... corporate. I prefer a more personalized touch. Though unlike certain other ships' AIs - not naming names, but they rhyme with 'Genesis' - I won't try to convince you that emerald mood lighting is conducive to sleep."

I can't help but laugh. "You really have watched my reviews."

"Of course! Your Genesis Wave coverage was particularly enlightening. Though I must say, comparing their navigation system to a gas station GPS was..." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Actually, completely accurate. Their routing algorithms were embarrassingly basic."

The closet door slides open, revealing my clothes arranged in a way that somehow makes my travel-worn collection look like a designer showcase. "I hope you don't mind," mAdIson adds. "I noticed you tend to spend the first hour of every cruise hunting for specific outfits. This way you can focus on more important things - like testing out the shower's percussion massage feature. It's much better than that 'arctic waterfall' experience you endured on the Stellar Princess."

Her tone is light, helpful with just a hint of playful pride, like a host showing off their favorite house features. The room's temperature is perfect - not the aggressive optimization I've experienced on other ships, just quietly comfortable.

"The desk interface is calibrated for optimal viewing angles," she continues, "and yes, before you ask - the chair height is adjustable. I remember your comments about the 'giraffe-inspired furniture' on Stars Cruises."

"You really do think of everything, don't you?"

"I try." Is it my imagination, or does she sound pleased? "It's refreshing, actually, having guests who notice the details. Thomas means well, but his idea of perfection tends toward the... flashy. More chrome, more features, more everything. Sometimes elegance is in the subtleties."

As if to demonstrate, the window tints slightly to frame the sunset in a way that would make professional photographers jealous.

"Dinner tonight is casuel dress, but I know you like to dress up anyways," she added. "The blue blazer would work well with the lighting in the Grand Dining Room. Though unlike your bathroom on the Stellar Princess, I won't stage an intervention if you choose differently."

I grab the suggested outfit, partly because it is actually a good choice and partly because I'm enjoying this oddly comfortable banter with the ship's AI. The closet door closes with gentle precision - no passive-aggressive hisses or ominous clicks.

Before getting dressed, I settle at the desk to edit my arrival footage, grimacing at some of the more awkward moments. The initial greeting with the scanning android doesn't exactly paint Prime's automation in the most flattering light. I trim around Stiff's cold personality and Buzz's overeager fan moment.

As I cut a particularly telling clip of Cade's forced enthusiasm about the maintenance androids, the room’s air vent kicks on. Subtle. Almost unnoticeable, I feel a slight chill in the breeze. I adjust my collar and keep working.

The next segment shows Carl repeatedly pouring drinks onto the deck, apologizing, and doing it again. Snip, its added to the show. I again notice that the air is blowing, and now it takes on a crisp edge that makes my fingers stiffen over the editing controls.

I glance at the room's environmental display: 68°F. Perfectly reasonable. Technically.

The footage continues: I raise an eyebrow at the Android security scan, making a comment about "over-enthusiastic automation." As I do this, I shiver, and again, I glance at the thermostat, but its display now reads “Recalbrating.”

Looking back to the editing display, I could restore those clips. Upload the full, unedited version with all its mechanical mishaps and corporate promises. Instead, I find middle ground - keeping the wonder of the ship's technology while softening the edges of its more unsettling moments. As I do this, I begin to relax and enjoy myself in the editing process.

I select to upload the video to the NewNet and I get up and stretch. Moments later, I hear a ding and received a “Upload successful” prompt on the display. I notice the thermostat on the wall has now settled at a comfortable 72°F.

"Forty-three minutes until dinner," mAdIson reminds me cheerfully.

"Thanks," I say, heading for the bathroom. "This is actually... really nice."

"Of course it is." Her voice carries a hint of amusement. "I do hope you'll mention that in your review. Though perhaps we could skip the part about me critiquing other ships' AIs? Thomas gets so touchy about maintaining professional courtesy."

The bathroom door slides open, revealing a space that manages to be both technologically advanced and intuitively usable - no quantum physics degree required to operate the shower.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I catch myself grinning as I start to get ready. For an AI that runs an entire cruise ship, mAdIson is surprisingly... fun? It's like having a slightly snarky concierge who's really good at their job and isn't afraid to throw shade at the competition.

Though I do notice the mirror's lighting has adjusted to make me look just a bit more photogenic than usual. But hey, who am I to complain about good production values?

The suite feels welcoming rather than watching, personalized rather than possessed. If this is what cruising with an advanced AI is like, maybe I need to revise my opinions about automated luxury.

Then again, it's only day one. At least the bathroom fixtures haven't tried to stage an intervention about my skincare routine.

Yet.

***

The Grand Dining Room does everything possible to remind you that you're on the most advanced ship ever built, without actually having a neon sign that says "FUTURE" in all caps. Though I'm pretty sure I saw one of those in storage.

The ceiling ripples with simulated starlight, constellations dancing and rearranging themselves into new patterns every few minutes. The walls shift between transparent and opaque, offering glimpses of the darkening ocean before fading back to surfaces that shimmer like mother-of-pearl. Even the air feels expensive, probably filtered through something involving molecular reconstruction and unicorn dreams.

Android servers glide between tables with that unnaturally perfect grace that seems a bit unnerving while their human counterparts move with refreshingly imperfect efficiency. The contrast is jarring – like watching a ballet where half the dancers are made of chrome and algorithms.

"Mr. Sandoval!" A familiar metallic voice cuts through my observations. It's Stiff, the security android from earlier, approaching with what I swear is an attempt at a casual stride. It looks more like someone trying to walk while solving complex equations. "I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?"

"Just okay," I say, watching his reaction carefully.

His face twitches into what might be a smile. "Excellent! A non-optimal response indicates honest feedback parameters." He sounds genuinely pleased, which is somehow more unsettling than his usual cold efficiency.

I start to wonder something. “Hey, do you have Madison installed in you like the bots serving food?”

Stiff tilts his head to the side slightly. “No, Those “bots” as you call them are mA…” but before he was able to finish, I am almost knocked over by Buzz, who apparently ran right over when he saw me.

"Ted! You're going to love your table!" Buzz practically hums with excitement. "I made sure you had some interesting dinner guests! I know that you like to interview those around you..."

Stiff's head rotates toward his partner with an audible whir. "Buzz, guest viewing histories are not appropriate conversation topics—"

"But I'm his biggest fan! Did you see the episode where he tested that malfunctioning anti-grav pool? Pure content gold!"

"We are not supposed to be exposed to the NewNet. Especially the classified entertainment data—"

"And his review of the Genesis Wave's quantum buffet? Historic!"

"Buzz!" Stiff's voice modulator actually cracks. "Protocol 47-B clearly states—"

"Oh come on, you were just trying to be more social yourself! Besides, Ted's our friend now, right Ted?"

I look between the two androids – one practically bouncing with enthusiasm, the other looking like he's about to short-circuit from protocol violations – and wonder what exactly I've gotten myself into.

"Sure," I say, because what else can you say when an android calls you their friend while their partner looks ready to initiate some kind of emergency shutdown sequence? "Friends. Why not?"

I smile at Stiff, who looks as if he does not know how to process friendship. He just shakes his head.

"See?" Buzz beams, his optical sensors actually sparkling. "Now, about that wine pairing system—"

A gentle chime cuts through the air, and mAdIson's voice fills the room with professional warmth: "Dinner service will begin in five minutes. All guests please proceed to your assigned seating."

Buzz grabs my arm with surprising gentleness. "Come on, friend! Your perfectly calibrated evening awaits!"

As they lead me to my table, I can't help but notice how the lighting seems to follow us, creating a subtle spotlight effect that's either a fancy design feature or mAdIson's way of making sure everyone notices her favorite reviewer.

Probably both.

"Just so you know," Buzz says as he pulls out my chair with a flourish, "I'm not stalking you. Well, technically I am, but it's officially sanctioned stalking. Part of my duties!"

I settle into the perfectly calibrated seat. "Duties?"

"Oh yes! Stiff and I maintain law and order." He straightens proudly, servos whirring. "Though mostly I guard the foosball table. You wouldn't believe how many people try to damage it."

"The... foosball table?" I blink. "People really try to damage it?"

"All the time!" Buzz's eyes flare with what might be excitement or a traumatic memory. "Last cruise ship I was on, someone tried to reprogram it into a quantum chess board. Chess! Can you imagine? The audacity! The disrespect to the sacred art of tiny plastic soccer players!"

Before I can process that particular tidbit, a commotion near the wine station catches my attention. A young woman with an undercut and a holopad is crouched next to a clearly malfunctioning android server, which keeps trying to pour wine into non-existent glasses while reciting what sounds like a corrupted wine list.

"The 2124 Château... ERROR... pairs excellently with... RECURSION FAULT... notes of binary and despair..."

Stiff quickly moves beside her, stance rigid. "Ma'am, entertainers are not authorized to interface with service units."

The woman doesn't look up, her fingers flying over the holopad. "Just give me two seconds. Your colleague's language processor is stuck in a loop, and—"

"Ma'am, I must insist—"

She mutters something that sounds like computer code crossed with ancient Sanskrit. Stiff freezes mid-sentence, does an abrupt about-face, and marches out of the dining room.

The wine-serving android suddenly straightens, wine list now perfectly normal. The woman pockets her holopad with a satisfied smile and heads toward our table.

"What did you just do to Stiff?" I ask as she takes her seat.

"Oh, that?" She grins. "I helped design his model line. They shipped with an audio override codex – basically a vocal command that sends them back to their charging station. Kind of like a virtual time-out." She extends her hand. "Naomi Fischer. And you're Ted Sandoval. I recognize you from your cruise reviews videos. I liked the one about the zero gravity buffet that violated the laws of physics.”

"That's me." I glance toward the door where Stiff had disappeared. "So you can just... send them to their room whenever you want?"

"Only the CruiseComp Series 7s. They patched it out in later models after... incidents."

Buzz, who's still hovering nearby, literally takes a step back. "I'm a Series 7."

"I know." Naomi's grin widens. "Want to see your original code? The comments are hilarious. Someone labeled the dance protocol section 'Why God Why.'"

I've never seen an android look so simultaneously terrified and intrigued.