Almost Human

The following day, I sat across from Angie, legs crossed beneath me, picking at the edge of my sleeve. Therapy sessions were always the same—quiet, sterile, and uncomfortable in their own way. But they were necessary. Even if they forced me to confront things I’d rather not.

Angie watched me from her chair, notebook balanced on her lap, her pen tapping lightly as she glanced up. “So, how’s it going with the robot?”

“It’s fine,” I replied, a little too quickly. “It does what it’s supposed to do. No issues.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re still referring to it as ‘it.’”

I frowned slightly. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Angie leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. “Well, part of the reason we decided on the robot was to help you get comfortable with male presence again. Personalizing it was supposed to be part of that.”

I sat back, crossing my arms defensively. “It’s a machine. Why would I call it anything else?”

She gave a small nod, considering her words. “I get that. But the robot isn’t just here to clean your house, Seren. One of its jobs is to be a companion—someone, or rather something, that takes an interest in your life, your routines, and your well-being. That’s part of the process of making it feel more personal, more real. The more you treat it like a ‘thing,’ the less you’re engaging with that part of its role.”

I pressed my lips together. “It’s still just a machine.”

“And yet, it’s in your space, helping you every day. How does that feel?”

I shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know… normal? It’s just there, doing its job.”

Angie watched me closely, her eyes soft but firm. “Let’s try something. Close your eyes for me.”

I hesitated but eventually complied, shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath. This felt silly.

“Now, think about the robot,” Angie instructed gently. “Picture it in your home. How does it make you feel when it’s doing things for you?”

I took a deep breath, picturing the robot—it—moving around my kitchen, cooking, cleaning, adjusting things I wouldn’t even bother with. The presence wasn’t unsettling anymore, but it wasn’t exactly… comforting. It was just there. Filling a space.

“It’s… helpful,” I finally said. “It makes things easier.”

Angie’s voice stayed calm, guiding. “And if you had to give it a name, what would it be?”

My brow furrowed slightly. A name? I didn’t think of it that way. But, almost without realizing it, the answer came to me. “Ender.”

“Ender,” she repeated, as if testing it out herself. “Why Ender?”

“I don’t know. I just always think of that when I look at its model number. 3Nd3R.” I shrugged, still feeling a bit silly. “It fits.”

Angie nodded. “Good. Now, for the rest of this session, I want you to refer to Ender as ‘he.’ Not ‘it.’ Let’s see how that feels.”

I opened my eyes slowly, meeting Angie’s gaze. “Okay.”

“How has he been with you so far?” she asked, watching my reaction closely.

I blinked, feeling the shift as I spoke. “He’s… been helpful. He does a lot around the house. And he’s… starting to pick up on things. Like, he knows when I’m stressed out, even when I don’t say anything.”

Angie smiled slightly. “That’s progress, Seren. The more you refer to him as ‘he,’ the more you can bridge the gap between the robot and what we’re working on—reintroducing a male presence into your life in a way that feels safe.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling a little uncomfortable. “But… he’s not a person.”

“No, but he’s more than just a vacuum with arms, right? He’s there to help you, to respond to your needs. And in a way, he’s becoming part of your routine, isn’t he?”

I nodded slowly, the word “he” still sitting strange in my mouth. “Yeah… I guess. It’s just… weird.”

Angie smiled again. “Weird is okay. We’re not asking you to jump into anything, just to recognize that this is part of the process. You’ve made a lot of progress already, Seren. It’s okay to take small steps.”

I nodded, sitting with the new name—Ender—rolling it over in my mind. Somehow, giving it a name didn’t feel as wrong as I thought it would. It felt… a little more real. Like maybe this was working, even if it didn’t make sense yet.