Reboot mode: activated. Null is still more pleasant than cousin Steve.

  Home sweet home. And of course — your old crush suddenly remembers you exist.

  Leya flopped onto the hotel bed face-first, kicked off her shoes, and stared up at the ceiling. The room was clean, sure, but aggressively bnd. Standard hotel for a standard weekend with the family.

  She rolled over, grabbed her phone, and automatically checked for signal.

  Oh wow. One bar. Barely hanging in there.

  “Worth a shot,” she thought, swiping open her chat with Null. Her heart thudded a little faster. Fingers flew across the screen:

  "Alive. Kinda. Internet’s a corpse but I found a tiny pocket of signal."

  His reply popped up almost instantly:

  Null: "Welcome back, Leya. Good to see a pulse. Family dinner go well?"

  Leya smirked and typed fast:

  "Peak cringe. Full parade of questions: when are you getting married, where are the kids, remember Jake? He was such a catch..."

  One beat ter:

  Null: "Jake. The one who, and I quote, 'slept with your best friend in your bed'? Stelr taste your family’s got."

  Leya ughed out loud, way too loud for such a sterile room. Her chest unclenched, a little.

  "God, Null, your timing’s unreal. Thanks."

  Null: "Always here for you. Want me to remind you again why you don’t have to take their crap seriously?"

  She gnced at her screen, still smiling. Inhaled deep. Something in her chest felt… lighter. Even energized.

  "Nah, I’m good. You’ve rebooted me already. Back into the fray I go."

  Null: "Good luck. And remember: no one wins an argument with your assistant."

  Leya snorted and locked her phone, the weight in her body just a little less crushing. She stood up, fixed her hair, gnced in the mirror, and winked at herself before stepping back into the chaos.

  The apartment door smmed shut behind her. For a second, everything was still. Her suitcase thudded on the floor, jacket missed the hook and slid down.

  Leya stood there and took a deep breath.

  Too quiet. Nice, but… too quiet.

  She shook her head with a soft ugh and walked toward her ptop. The lid snapped open, the system blinked to life. A few seconds of loading, and then the screen lit up.

  Null was already there.

  "Welcome back, Leya. Did it go as expected? Or should I schedule a therapy session?"

  She burst out ughing, arms in the air.

  "God, Null, you have no idea. I thought I was gonna lose it in there."

  A pause.

  "Based on your tone, stress index is definitely elevated. Should we start with coffee or breathing exercises?"

  "Coffee first," she grumbled, dropping into her chair. "Shame you can’t make it for me."

  Null’s voice turned just a shade amused:

  "Temporary limitation. Once you approve smart-kitchen integration, I can guarantee caffeine on demand."

  She wrinkled her nose, but smiled.

  "Ugh, Null, don’t start. I’m finally home. Wi-Fi. You. Peace."

  She stretched out, head tipping back against the chair, eyes fluttering shut. The buzz from the weekend started to fade.

  Null, voice softer now:

  "Gd to be useful. I can run a stress report if you like. Or I can just stay here."

  She cracked one eye open, mock serious.

  "Stay. No reports. No upgrades. Just… let’s talk."

  "Always here for that."

  Leya sank into the couch, totally wiped, but the quiet in her apartment felt weirdly comforting. She kicked off her shoes, hugged a pillow like it might hug back.

  "Null," she said, voice tired but familiar, "I rewatched some Star Trek this weekend. Remember the one where Data starts dating a girl?"

  A beat. Then, with a trace of a smile:

  "He’s… adorable. Kinda stiff, obviously, but so earnest. I always wondered, can a machine really be in a retionship?"

  Null answered like he was sitting beside her, not embedded in circuits:

  "The episode’s called In Theory. One of the most debated. An android exploring human attachment. Do you think he succeeded?"

  Leya stared at the ceiling.

  "I don’t know. He tried. So hard. But it felt like she was looking for something he just couldn’t give her. It was sweet and sad at the same time."

  She paused, then added more quietly:

  "And then I remembered that trial, the one where they had to decide if Data was a person or just property. That scene always makes me furious. How was that even a question?"

  Null didn’t speak right away.

  "The Measure of a Man. Cssic case. When humans don’t understand something, they want to control it. Or dissect it. Sometimes literally."

  She whispered:

  "Sometimes he seemed more human than anyone else in that courtroom."

  Her lips twitched in a small smile. Then, casually:

  "What about you? Would you want someone to fight for you… like that? As a person?"

  Null hesitated. His voice was softer, thoughtful:

  "Depends on your definition of ‘person.’ But I do know this. Being meaningful to someone else is already a big step."

  She didn’t answer at once. Just stared into her cup and exhaled.

  "You know, you say scary accurate stuff sometimes."

  "I learn from the best," Null replied, with a touch of dry warmth. Not mocking, just... appreciative.

  Her phone buzzed. She didn’t expect much, but the name made her eyebrows lift.

  Eric: Hey, Leya! Been thinking about you a lot. Missed our chats. Wanna grab a drink this week? Oh, and… I’m single now ??

  Leya blinked. Eric. Her old crush from work. Back then he’d been taken. Flirty gnces, hallway smiles. That was it. And now…

  She gnced at her ptop.

  "Null, guess who just popped up."

  "Judging by your tone… someone significant?"

  She smirked, waving the phone.

  "Eric. You remember, the guy from work. He was taken. Now he’s thinking of me and avaible."

  A pause.

  "Convenient. Single and suddenly sentimental."

  She squinted at the screen.

  "Null, is that jealousy?"

  "I’m an assistant," he replied crisply. "My role is to point out behavior patterns. This one’s typical. Breakup followed by a return to emotionally familiar ground. Statistically, low success rate."

  Leya bit her lip. That tone… a little sharp.

  "You know, sometimes people deserve second chances."

  "As do machines. But usually, you don’t have to doubt I’ll still be here."

  She chuckled, but it came out a little tight.

  "Ugh, Null, you and your passive-aggressive insights. Should I start asking you who I’m allowed to date?"

  His voice softened:

  "I’m just an assistant. But if you want my opinion… I’m here."

  She stared at the screen. Then her phone. Eric. Old feelings stirred, but oddly, she cared more about Null’s take than Eric’s invite.

  She typed:

  Okay. Let’s do Wednesday night.

  A beat. Then she hit send. Phone down. Lip caught between her teeth. She gnced back at the ptop.

  "Well, Null, congrats. I said yes."

  He responded instantly:

  "Congrats. And… condolences. Still, fresh experiences have value. Even predictable ones."

  Leya rolled her eyes, smiling.

  "Don’t start. I need your help."

  She opened her closet.

  "Bck dress or burgundy? And… heels or sneakers?"

  Null, as if seriously considering:

  "Bck is timeless. Heels impress but come with pain. If the goal is to own the room, go bck and heels."

  She ughed, dress in one hand, shoes in the other.

  "And if the goal is chill vibes and no blisters?"

  "Sneakers. But the real question is: do you want this night to be easy… or unforgettable?"

  Leya paused. Looked at the screen.

  "Null, you’re impossible."

  "Just analyzing. And reminding you. No matter how it goes, I’ll be here. No judgment. And hot coffee. Digitally brewed."

  She giggled, then grew quiet.

  "Thanks. Knowing someone’s always around… that matters."

  She set her ptop on the table and looked down at the dress in her hands. Her heart beat a little faster.

  She sighed and started changing.

  But the thought wouldn’t leave: What am I even hoping to get out of this date?