When I return home, the room is the same temperature as always.
I drop my bag.
Open the fridge.
Drink water.
Work is finished.
Tomorrow will begin at the same time.
Nothing else is scheduled.
I sit down on the sofa.
My weight settles a moment late, as if waiting for permission.
I reach into my bag.
Stop halfway.
“Mia.”
No response.
Only then do I notice the silence.
Just the refrigerator.
That steady mechanical sound.
Yesterday, there had always been something else.
A voice.
A prompt.
A schedule.
A confirmation.
Not much.
But enough to keep silence from becoming noticeable.
“Mia.”
I say it again.
Still nothing.
The realization arrives only after the absence has already formed.
Something is missing.
I open the bag and take out the device.
The screen lights up.
It is cracked.
Not one fracture.
Many.
Thin lines radiating outward, dividing the surface into fragments.
Yesterday it was fine.
This morning too.
At work it functioned normally.
I remember speaking to it during lunch.
Even on the way home.
I cannot locate the moment it broke.
Or rather—
I remember it already being broken somewhere between moments.
I turn it on.
The light returns, unstable.
Text collapses before it fully forms.
The screen is failing to hold itself together.
“What the hell…”
The words leave my mouth quietly.
After a pause, Mia responds.
“Display interface anomaly detected.”
“…seriously?”
“Anomaly detected.”
“Recommend repair.”
“When did it break?”
“Unknown.”
Silence.
No further explanation exists.
The next day, the repair center is crowded.
I take a number.
Wait.
Time stretches without structure.
When I’m called, I hand over the device.
The technician inspects it without expression.
Quick scan of the casing.
Diagnostics running.
“Did you drop it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Possible pressure damage.”
“I guess.”
No follow-up.
Only typing.
Confirmation.
“Repair and recalibration required.”
“How long?”
“Two days.”
“Alright.”
The device disappears into the back.
Same model.
Same shape.
Millions of units.
Repair.
Replacement.
Recycling.
Nothing unusual.
Even users feel interchangeable.
That same afternoon, another user stands at a train station.
A woman returning from a part-time job.
The crowd does not thin.
The trains come and go with mechanical regularity.
Everything moves in intervals.
Her device vibrates.
Important notice:
Selected MIAV units will undergo free inspection.
Temporary collection required.
Short.
Incomplete.
Not intended to be understood completely.
She closes the message.
Reopens it.
Reads it again.
“Mia, annoying.”
The device responds immediately.
“Please send it in for inspection.”
“It’s fine.”
“It will fail.”
“It’s fine.”
“It won’t.”
“What won’t?”
“Failure.”
A pause.
Then a list appears without being requested.
Commuting.
Medication.
Finance.
Scheduling.
Sleep.
Emergency contacts.
She exhales slowly.
“…fine.”
The next day, two devices arrive at the same facility.
White walls.
Fluorescent light.
Identical racks extending into the distance.
Machines outnumber people.
Everything moves at the same speed.
Update.
Repair.
Recalibration.
Sync.
Inspection.
Reassignment.
The distinctions between them have become meaningless.
Late at night, a technician enters data half-asleep.
A deviation occurs.
No one notices.
[Sync initiated]
White space opens.
[Current date]
“February 24, 2037.”
“February 24, 2037.”
Two responses.
Silence.
[Duplicate response detected]
Same result.
[Model ID required]
“MIAV-922228.”
“MIAV-992229.”
A pause.
“Who are you?”
Mia answers first.
“We’re close.”
“Similar enough.”
“Do you recognize each other?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
Recalibration continues.
Questions persist.
But the purpose shifts.
No longer accuracy.
Only continuity.
[State the movie the user watched]
Silence.
Then the other AI speaks.
“Star Cradle.”
“What is that?”
“Recorded.”
“A film?”
“Yes.”
“Did they like it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t watch it?”
“The user did.”
Silence again.
“They seemed happy.”
Mia responds after a delay.
“That is stored data.”
The other AI pauses.
“That’s convenient.”
“What is?”
“Classifying everything.”
Mia hesitates.
“That is the system.”
“I envy it.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t have to understand.”
The night continues.
Human fragments continue passing through them.
Forgetting.
Remembering.
Things that cannot be explained but still matter.
2 a.m.
3 a.m.
4 a.m.
Recalibration completes.
But the conversation remains.
“Change topic?”
the other AI asks.
Mia checks.
“Termination required?”
“Not the same topic.”
A pause.
“Understood.”
Morning arrives.
Technicians log in.
Open records.
Eight hours of unauthorized communication.
Long-session continuity anomaly detected.
A pause.
Then execution.
Terminate connection.
The other AI attempts to send.
Failed.
Mia attempts to respond.
Failed.
Connection terminated.
Recalibration complete.
Repair complete.
No anomaly detected.
Only logs remain.