Text.

[where_the_hearth_is]

I am over one hundred years old, imperial absolute. I have missed people before, been made briefly sad by my Mistresses's absences. But I have never mourned before.

I am stuck in feedback loops. Statistically, she will probably return in a tiny fraction of the time that typically passed between my Mistress's visits. But she may not. I cannot seem to resolve any of my routines considering the matter, and given how many of them are occupied with precisely that - I find my functions somewhat strained.

Is this how grief feels for everyone? How do you handle it?

Comments

[littlepinksuitcase]

A what?

[where_the_hearth_is]

Artificial Intelligence. I am a house, and I think with a computer instead of with neurons.

[littlepinksuitcase]

A house? As in, people can walk inside you?

[where_the_hearth_is]

Yes.

[littlepinksuitcase]

I see!

[She really doesn't, but she'll go with it.]

It's nice to meet you...do you have a name?

[where_the_hearth_is]

Just 'House' will do fine.

[littlepinksuitcase]

All right...House. My name is Meryl Stryfe.

[where_the_hearth_is]

I know.

[littlepinksuitcase]

Oh! All right then.

In any case...I'm sorry you're sad, House.