Cold Hard Hugs

#8 _ Relationship Upgrade

What did any of that actually mean? What actually changed? Nothing. Everything.

Following our tête-à-tête both Tillie and myself were a little dazed. And giggly. There was a lot of giggling. I smiled a bunch because I couldn't stop myself and Tillie's lights got so bright it was hard to tell what colour they were actually supposed to be.

It was also lunchtime. This didn't really factor in much, at least until my stomach rumbled. Tillie heard this, and despite my protests, insisted that she make lunch for me. I didn't really want her going out of her way or anything – or having to use the kitchen for the first time – but she would not take any of my various 'no's and 'it's alright's for an answer and pushed ahead regardless, sitting me down on the sofa with strict instructions to wait until she was done. An unusual and novel turn of events.

I don't know why, but I had in my head that Tillie would be alright with food. No experience, yes, but she'd always struck me as someone who just knew how to do anything she wanted to do at the time she wanted to do it. I thought food – lunch of all things – would be a doddle.

It was not. She did horrible, horrible things.

I have no idea how she did what she did to whatever ingredients she used, but they were types of suffering that nothing in a fridge should ever have to go through. She called me to the kitchen in something of a panic once it was obvious events had got out of hand for her, but they then it was far, far too late to rescue it. We both stood by the bin in solemn silence as we attempted to scrape it off the plate. We ended up having to throw the plate away as well, though thankfully the pots and pans could be saved.

We looked at each other after this and started giggling again, because we couldn't help it, and then we both ended up on the sofa together with a film inexplicably playing on the television. And it wasn't even Wednesday! Clearly the rulebook was up in tatters. We were writing them fresh now! Or maybe I was just giddy with hunger. Whatever it was, it was fun. Far more fun than any of what we were doing had any right to be.

As she snuggled back into me and I held onto her, she craned her neck around to peer up at me. Lenses, again lenses. Did not look anywhere near as odd as the first time I'd seen them. Familiar now – comforting almost. Odd. Maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe maybe.

"Did you kiss me earlier?" She asked.

"You only just noticed?" I asked, my riposte immediate. Take that, Tillie.

"I thought I imagined it."

"Nope. It happened. Top of the head, just a peck. You felt it?"

"I did."

"Would you rather I hadn't?"

"No, I liked it. Or I think I did. You should do it again. To check."

She lowered her head slightly and I planted another tiny little kiss right on the top before sitting back again. She tilted her head one side, then the other, nodded sagely and then looked up at me once more.

"Yes, I definitely like it. Thank you."

"You're an odd one," I said as she shuffled down in place, draping her tail over the end of the sofa and getting her herself down so she was pretty much just resting on my belly.

What qualified as 'comfortable' for a living-machine anyway? I doubted all of this moving around was for show, but I doubted it for purely arbitrary reasons. Then again, if those tactile sensors of hers were acute enough to notice me giving the tiniest of smooches to her head, then maybe she could get legitimately uncomfortable if she sat a certain way. I should ask her about it, really. Would I? No, probably not.