ROGER

T W O

Aside from the normal, "May I start your coffee, Clara?" Roger was a great conversationalist. We'd spend every morning talking while I enjoyed my coffee and breakfast. I took the chance to tell him everything he didn't already know: my love for art, music, and a fascination for computers I couldn't master. It didn't take long until he was able to put two and two together and knew right away that's how Xerses and I remained friends. Best friends.

When he said that, well, that's when some guilt set in. All while I talked with Mr. 4963, a week passed, and I hadn't talked to my real friend at all.

"X hasn't emailed or called me?" I asked Roger as the skies darkened outside my window.

Roger had made a habit of being in more than one place at once. Sometimes, I'd find an image of him on my clock or standing on the corner screen of my tablet; it was his way of being ready in case I needed him there. This night, however, his main image appeared on my television. He was seated in a chair, dressed more casually than he was when he'd first installed.

I liked him in a white tee and jeans. It made him more personable.

"No." Roger shook his head and looked over at me as I swirled my cup of juice around, having not touched it once. "Is that warm? I can set the program to pour you another cup."

"No, no," I muttered. Placing the cup of juice near the edge of the table, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my red hoodie. My hair flipped over my face as I slumped back into my chair. I tried to hide my ever-growing pout. "It's just weird." I could almost see my bottom lip as I whined. "We'd talk every day."

"Maybe he's getting to know his own VF," he said with a shrug. "Have you thought of that?"

I scrunched my pout up against my nose and nodded. Yes, I had thought of it. That wasn't the point. Truth was, I missed him.

And Roger could tell. With a laugh, he asked, "Would you like me to call him?"

"Yes!" I jumped up faster than I should have. The tip of my elbow bumped against the table and like a single domino on a ledge, the cup I'd set aside spilled. Juice splashed across the floor and the sides of my shoes, staining the white with various shades of orange.

With a groan of frustration, I wiped at my wet laces. "Just great."

"Don't worry, Clara. Sit back. I got it."

Within every Provincial apartment was a cleaning system built right into the floors and walls. It was more complex than the tiny robots who assisted daily living. Cleaning bots required a different set of commands, ones I never understood or could even work properly.

Though, Roger knew them all.

A tablet digitally appeared in his hands as he leaned back into his seat. With a few taps of his fingers, the juice on my floor was sucked into the cracks between the white tile. A small bot came through a 'doggy door' near the front end of my apartment and in less than a minute, my cup was washed and refilled, and the side of my shoe cleaned.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, rubbing the sides of my face with both hands. "I'm such a klutz."

"On the contrary, Clara, I wouldn't categorize you as any type of fool." Roger's words made me look up at his bright screen. I expected him to laugh, smile, or give me his never-ending grin when we locked eyes, but what I saw was far better.

My eyes nearly watered as Roger pointed at a small conversation bubble beside his head. The letter X, tiny yet vibrant, bobbed up and down above his finger. "Shall I patch him through?" he asked with a smirk.

Xerses waited on the line as an outgoing call. Crossing the room, I couldn't contain my smile. "You're the best," I told him.

"My pleasure," he said.