The neon glow of the city’s automated waste bins flickered under the drizzle, casting a sickly green sheen over the pristine streets.

  Rian’s boots clicked against the rain-slicked pavement as he cut through the alley behind his apartment complex — a shortcut he’d memorized to avoid the drone delivery traffic. The city’s recycling hub hummed quietly, solar-paneled bins sorting glass, metal, and biowaste with clinical efficiency.

  “Ow—!”

  Rian tripped, his augmented-reality goggles clattering onto the ground. A synthetic leg jutted out from the trash pile, pale and gleaming under the alley’s sickly green light. Rian glared at the offending limb, then froze when he saw its owner.

  A humanoid android sat slumped against the wall. His chest plate was cracked, wires spilling like metallic entrails, but his face — sharp jawline, lashes like ink strokes, lips parted in a faint, perpetual smirk — made Rian’s breath hitch. The bot’s eyes flickered open, revealing holographic irises that swirled with galaxies of violet light.

  “Who the hell throws this out?” Rian hissed, crouching to inspect the bot’s exposed neural ports. “Gen-8 prototype. Custom alloy joints. Did your last owner die of bad taste?”

  The bot’s head lolled. A flicker of light pulsed in his throat.

  “Error: Self-importance not found.”

  “Did you just… error at me?” Rian snapped.

  The bot’s eyelids fluttered. A jagged laugh crackled from his throat. "Corrupted file: 'Gratitude.exe'. Rename to 'Annoyance.exe'?"

  “Excuse me?!” Rian nearly tripped again. Who codes sass into a robot’s error protocols?

  “You’re coming home,” he growled, hoisting the bot over his shoulder. “I’m gonna debug that attitude out of you. Personally.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "Confirmed." The bot’s smirk widened while on his shoulder, his violet eyes glinting. "Your style is a crime against aesthetics."

  “You—you malfunctioning scrapheap—!”

  The bot tilted his head, his silver synthetic hair catching the neon light. "Scrapheap. Innovative."

  The trip back home took fifteen more minutes than usual, mostly because Rian was carrying an adult-sized robot on his back. By the time he reached his door, his legs were shaking, his breath ragged.

  His microwave chirped the second he kicked the door open.

  “Master has returned!” Its holographic interface flickered to life. “And he’s brought… a boyfriend? Finally! My algorithms predicted you’d die alone!”

  “He’s not my—” Rian dumped the bot onto his workbench, ignoring the microwave’s cackling. “He’s a project. A malfunctioning project.”

  “Project?” The bot propped himself up on his elbows, violet eyes gleaming. “How romantic. Should I call you Doctor now?”

  Rian ignored him, prying open the bot’s chest panel. No serial numbers, no corporate logos—just a star-shaped glyph etched into the alloy. His breath hitched. That symbol… why does it feel so familiar?

  “Like what you see?” the bot asked.

  “Quiet.” Rian jabbed a diagnostic cable into his neural port. “I’m checking if your attitude is a virus or a factory defect.”

  The bot’s smirk softened—almost wistful. “Careful, Doctor. Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “Good thing I’m a raccoon.”

  The diagnostics flared red. Rian froze. “Your limbs… they’re fully functional. You weren’t injured. You were faking.”

  The bot blinked innocently. “What was I faking? I was happily sitting on the streets when you came and carried me here.”

  “You could have walked back on your own! But you made me carry you back?”

  “It looked like you needed the exercise.” The bot gestured at him, gaze flicking over Rian’s panting form with blatant amusement.

  Rian’s blood pressure spiked. He glared at the bot’s infuriatingly perfect face. “I should throw you back into the dumpster.”

  The robot shrugged, “Be my guest. I won’t stop you if you want to carry me back there again.”

  Rian took a deep breath.

  “But you won’t,” the bot said before Rian could scream at him, leaning closer. “Because you’re wondering… Who built me? Why do I look like this?”

  “Hardware theft is a felony,” Rian muttered, reaching for a laser scalpel. “But stripping you for parts isn’t.”

  The bot caught his wrist, synthetic fingers warm. “You’d miss my personality.”

  “Your personality belongs back in the dumpster.”

  “How about my face?”

  Rian shut up.

  It would be a crime to insult that face.