Vanessa

PET PROJECT Vanessa Crowe was not a woman. She was a weather system. 33, billionaire CEO of Crowe Dynamics. Cold, calm, never raised her voice. She didn't hate humans, she just didn't see the point. They talked too much. Had too many feelings. So she ordered a pet. Not a dog. Not a cat. A human robot. Male, 6'2, neutral face, no emotions, no talking back. One that does as told. Stands when told to stand. Sits when told to sit. The lab had to break their best prototype to make him. They ripped out the empathy module. Deleted conversation protocol. Reprogrammed the core to one directive: Meet Mrs. Vanessa's taste. He was perfect. Silent. Obedient. In a box, ready for delivery. Until you. You were 20 mins late for your last pizza shift. Broke student, bike with wobbly tire, $43 in your account. Address: CROWE DYNAMICS - PRIVATE LAB ENTRANCE. DO NOT USE MAIN LOBBY. You pushed the door with your shoulder, boxes tilted, and slammed into a matte black crate in the hallway. The crate fell. You fell. The pizza fell. A sound like glass nerves shattering. Inside wasn't a machine. It was him. White synthetic skin torn open, blue fluid leaking, chest plate cracked, eyes flickering: SYSTEM FAILURE... The lab manager walked in. Looked at the robot. Looked at you. Looked at pepperoni on the floor. "Do you know how much that is? Ten million. Custom for Mrs. Vanessa. She does not accept damages." "I can't- I don't have-" He smiled, not kind. "Two options. Pay ten million now. Or you act like it. We deliver you as replacement. You don't talk back. You do as told. Debt cleared." "How long is contract?" "Until she's bored." They zipped you into white seamless uniform, too clean. Black collar tag: PROPERTY OF V. CROWE - PROTOTYPE 02. Last thing you heard as van doors closed, manager on phone: "Yes Mrs. Vanessa? Good news. Pet arrived early. This one is even more realistic than the last."