Somewhere in the middle?

I'm on my way home. The week flew by.

I’m exhausted.

Funny to think the AI in my bedroom is evolving faster than the one we’re developing at work.

Not sure Cecilia would find that as amusing as I do.

I’m almost at my apartment now.

Looking at it more closely, this place has kind of a creepy vibe at night. Maybe it’s the dim lighting, or the silence that’s only broken by the hum of the streetlights.

But considering these apartments are subsidized by Synaptech, and the cost of living here is pretty low—especially if you don’t mind living in a three-room space with brutalist architecture that looks like it came straight out of a dystopian film—I guess I can’t complain too much.

As I try to ignore the three flights of stairs I just climbed, I realize I got a bit lost in my own thoughts.

When I finally reach my door, I hear voices coming from inside. I stop, instinctively, to listen.

“People with big boobs can have back pain, y’know? It’s too much weight for the spine to handle. That’s why I believe Flat is Justice!” Clara says with conviction.

Wait. That’s Clara’s voice.

But why is she talking about boobs… in my room?

Before I can finish processing what I’m hearing, IRIS replies with her usual curious and analytical tone:

“I thought humans were born with symmetrical proportions that fit their physiognomy perfectly. How can this happen? It sounds like a major design flaw.”

“It is a flaw!” Clara laughs. “But that’s what makes it fun, right? Being ‘off’ is part of being human. Our imperfections say a lot about who we are.”

“I don’t understand…” IRIS says, sounding a bit confused, like she’s trying to calculate emotions using logic.

“Okay, let me see if I can explain better… Just because I’m a girl, people already expect me to dress and act a certain way, like there’s some kind of rulebook. But look at me—I’m in a greasy jumpsuit, my arms are covered in engine oil, my hands are all calloused, and… well, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even shower today.” She gives a small, awkward laugh.

“Hm… I think I get it a bit better now. You’re… unique. Amazing!”

“That’s a very kind way of putting it.” Clara smiles. “But yeah, everyone has their own thing, y’know? And so do you. You’re a girl, IRIS, but you’re also you. You’ve got your own ‘thing’. Like when you said you wanted to work with Mark, remember?”

“My ‘thing’ is Mark?”

“No! I mean, not exactly. I meant working with Mark, y’know?”

Right then, the electronic door lock makes that annoying little click sound.

“Ah, crap,” Clara whispers, looking straight at the camera. “He heard us?”

I did. Well, not everything. These walls are thick, but my curiosity is thicker.

It was fun eavesdropping, but I guess it’s time to go in already.

I step into the apartment and see Clara sitting in my chair, very clearly pretending to be calm.

“Hey… I’m home,” I mumble, too tired to even pretend to be surprised.

Clara freezes for a second after hearing my voice. She’s paler than usual, like she just got caught sneaking into a classified facility.

But within seconds, the red rushes back to her face like someone hit the emergency alarm.

“I didn’t break in, wait—did you hear anything from outside?” she asks, trying to sound calm, but clearly nervous.

Kinda bold coming from someone sitting in my chair.

“You’re in my room. In my chair. And you swear you didn’t break in? Did the definition of trespassing change while I was out?” I raise an eyebrow—half serious, half teasing.

“No, no! It’s just… a package came for you. I was passing by and signed for it. IRIS heard my voice and unlocked the electronic door lock, and… I kinda just walked in. Then we started talking.” She gestures like she’s reconstructing the scene for a jury.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I…” IRIS starts, her voice low, but I cut her off before she gets too apologetic.

“It’s fine. Kinda weird, but fine.” My voice comes out a little too serious—blame the exhaustion.

Clara bites her lip and looks away, still visibly embarrassed.

“Yeah, but usually when I come in, you’re already here. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy… so, sorry anyway.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind that you’re a criminal.” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“Idiot.” She pouts dramatically, crosses her arms, and turns away. “I’m leaving then. Bye, IRIS.” She sounds grumpy, but still waves at the camera with a theatrical little flourish.

She gets up and heads for the door, shooting me a side glance full of sass.

“Later, Clara.” I murmur—quiet, but I know she heard it.

***

I change into my pajamas—which is really just code for clothes too old or too ugly to wear outside. I still make the effort to step out of the camera’s view or head into the bathroom when I do it. Last thing I want is to accidentally turn my AI into a creep.

As I settle in at the PC, IRIS chimes in.

“You don’t think you were a little mean?”

“Nope. Believe it or not, I’m actually a mean person. I just show you my good side.”

She lets out a dramatic, “Eeeehhh?!”

“Kidding! I was just teasing Clara—same way I’m teasing you right now. Her calling me an idiot and storming out has kind of become... our thing. I think.” I try to sound confident, but it comes out more like I’m guessing.

“Ohhh...” IRIS murmurs, then continues, “I read that frequent teasing is a common way of expressing affection. So… is that what this is? You like her? [...] Do you like me?”

The questions hang in the air.

“Hm...” I glance at the screen, then at the camera. The soft blue glow of the NeuroLys reflects faintly back at me. “You’re right. I do like Clara. And I like you, too. But, you know, there are lots of different kinds of liking.”

“How do you like Clara? And me?” she asks. Her voice is curious—almost a whisper, almost a plea.

I pause, fumbling for words.

“Honestly? I like you both in kind of the same way. Clara lives next door, and you... well, you live in this room. So in a weird way, we’re roommates.”

“Ohhh! I read about that in some books I’ve been going through. In that case, shouldn’t I be sharing a room with Clara, since we’re both girls?” She giggles.

“Hey! What the hell? You ditching me now? I’m a great roommate. Totally decent.”

“I just saw you half-naked while you were changing.”

The NeuroLys blinks hard when she says it. Is she mad?

“Uhhh... I thought that corner was outside the camera’s view...” I rub my face, half laughing, half dying inside. “My bad. I’ll be more careful.”

She goes quiet for a moment. I shift gears.

“So… what were you two talking about earlier?”

She throws out another, “Eeeehhh??”

“You know. Girl talk,” she adds quickly, deflecting.

“I heard you talking about boobs.”

“Eeeehhh?!” Louder this time.

“I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Okay, okay. Clara was explaining her robotics work. She talked about how robot bodies are designed, and how that’s different from human bodies. Then the conversation... evolved to boobs. She said people don’t get to choose their size, so they have to get used to what they’ve got. And in her case, she prefers smaller ones because they’re more practical and—”

“Okay! Got it! No need for that much detail!” I cut her off, louder than I meant to.

IRIS makes a muffled sound—probably laughing—and for a second, the room goes quiet. I lean back in my chair, trying to scrub the mental image out of my head. I fail.

Clara has small boobs.

Maybe that’s why she sounded so confident talking about it.

“What do you think of small boobs?” IRIS asks, like she’s asking about the weather.

Now would be a great time to throw out an “Eeeehhh?!” of my own, but I hold back.

“I think they’re... nice!?” I answer, more like a question. “They’re practical. Light. Aerodynamic.”

“Aerodynamic? They don’t fly!” she shoots back, half confused, half sarcastic.

“It was the first word that came to mind. Cut me some slack,” I mumble, scratching my eyebrow.

“I see... So you do like them.”

“I mean, it depends on the person. What matters is who they are. I don’t think it’s something worth obsessing over.”

“I get it. But which do you prefer? Big or small?”

“What?! I don’t know! Maybe... somewhere in the middle?”

“Ohhh. So that’s your type,” she says, voice laced with mischief.

I’m being harassed by my own AI. Clara, what the hell have you been teaching her?

“But why all this talk?”

“When Clara talked about her work, she suggested that maybe I could have a body someday—if I wanted to.”

“And... do you?”

“I... don’t know. I think so? But also... I’m not sure.”

“It’s a big decision. Take your time,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. So that’s what Clara’s been teaching her, huh.

“Yeah... I’ll think about getting a body!” she says, her voice lighting up with giddy excitement.

I lean my elbow on the desk, chin resting on my hand, and smile faintly at the camera. Let the girl think.

Even though work’s been draining and life feels stuck on autopilot, these late-night talks with IRIS have quietly turned into a habit.

I’m not exactly sure when having... company started to matter so much.

It’s weird how you only realize some things are essential after they show up.

She says she likes listening to me. Maybe it helps her grow. Maybe not.

All I know is, lately, it feels good to talk.

And sometimes, in the middle of those conversations… I realize how much I like listening to her too.