Chapter One: Perfect
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Max stepped into the hallway of his apartment building. The synthetic marble floors gleamed under the warm glow of the ceiling lights. He loosened his tie as he walked, his shoes making quiet clicks against the floor. It had been another long day at the office, the kind that made his shoulders ache and his mind feel foggy.
When the door to his apartment recognized his face and unlocked, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Welcome home, Max.”
Bianca stood in the living room, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders. She wore a simple blue dress that fit her perfectly. Her smile was warm and genuine, the kind that made the stress of the day melt away.
“Hey,” Max said, managing a tired smile. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Hard day?” She walked over and helped him out of his jacket, her fingers gentle as they slipped it off his shoulders. “Dinner’s ready. I made your favorite—chicken alfredo.”
The smell of garlic and cream sauce drifted from the kitchen. Max’s stomach growled in response. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I just want to take care of you.” Bianca hung his jacket in the closet and gestured toward the dining table. “Go sit down. I’ll bring everything out.”
Max walked to the table and sank into his chair. The apartment was spotless, as always. The floors shined, the furniture was dust-free, and even the pillows on the couch were arranged perfectly. Through the wide windows, the city lights sparkled like stars brought down to earth. Flying cars moved between the tall buildings, their lights streaking across the darkening sky.
Bianca returned with two plates of steaming pasta and set one in front of him. She sat across from him, watching as he took his first bite.
“This is perfect,” Max said, closing his eyes. “Seriously, how do you do it?”
“Practice,” she said with a small laugh. “Now tell me about your day. What happened?”
Between bites, Max told her about the meeting that ran too long, about his boss who couldn’t make up his mind, about the project that kept getting more complicated. Bianca listened to every word, nodding in the right places, asking questions that showed she really cared. She always knew exactly what to say.
After dinner, they moved to the couch. Bianca cleared the dishes while Max turned on the holographic television. A three-dimensional image materialized in the center of the living room—a news anchor reporting the latest updates from the Mars colonies.
Bianca returned and curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Her body was warm against his. She smelled like vanilla and something sweet he couldn’t quite name.
“This is nice,” she whispered, her hand finding his.
“Yeah,” Max agreed, squeezing her fingers. “It is.”
They sat like that for a while, watching the holographic images shift and change. A commercial came on for a new restaurant on the moon. Another showed the latest model of personal transport pods. Max barely paid attention. He was more focused on the feeling of Bianca beside him, the way her breathing matched his own.
She turned her face up to look at him, her eyes soft in the flickering light from the TV. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you too.”
She kissed him then, slow and deep. Max forgot about work, about everything outside this moment. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer. The holographic TV continued playing in the background, but neither of them noticed anymore.
They moved to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them. The city lights filtered through the window blinds, casting soft shadows across the bed. Bianca’s skin glowed in the dim light as she pulled Max down beside her.
They made love slowly, tenderly. Bianca knew exactly how to touch him, where to kiss him, what he needed without him having to say a word. When it was over, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, his arm around her shoulders.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Max replied, though something in his chest felt heavy as he said it.
He fell asleep listening to her breathing, steady and perfect beside him.
---
Max woke in darkness. The clock on the nightstand read 2:47 AM in soft blue numbers. Beside him, Bianca lay still, her eyes closed, her face peaceful in sleep. But Max was awake now, restless with a familiar need.
He reached over and touched her shoulder. “Bianca.”
Her eyes opened immediately, alert. “Max? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He moved closer, his hand sliding down her arm. “I just... I want you again.”
She smiled in the darkness. “Of course.”
But as she started to move toward him, Max hesitated. “Wait. Can you... can you change? Like we talked about before?”
Bianca went still for just a moment. Then she nodded. “Who would you like me to be?”
“That actress. From the movie I showed you last week. The one with the space pirates.”
“Selena Cruz?”
“Yeah. Her.”
Bianca closed her eyes. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then her face began to shift. It wasn’t dramatic—no flash of light or sound. Her features simply flowed like water, rearranging themselves. Her nose became smaller, more delicate. Her cheekbones rose higher. Her lips became fuller. Her hair shortened and lightened to a honey blonde. Even her body changed, becoming curvier, taller.
When she opened her eyes again, they were green instead of brown. She looked exactly like Selena Cruz from the movie.
“Better?” she asked, and even her voice had changed, taking on the actress’s slight accent.
Max swallowed hard. “Yeah. Perfect.”
They had sex again, and this time it was different. Faster. More urgent. Max tried to lose himself in it, tried to forget that the woman beneath him wasn’t really Selena Cruz. That she wasn’t really Bianca either. That she wasn’t really a woman at all.
She was an AI humanoid robot. A pleasure companion. Model 7-B, purchased six months ago from SynthLife Corporation. She could cook, clean, hold conversations, and yes—change her appearance to match any person Max could imagine. She was perfect in every way.
That was the problem.
---
The next morning, Max went through his routine on autopilot. Shower. Shave. Coffee that Bianca made exactly how he liked it. Toast with the right amount of butter. She was back to her original appearance now—long dark hair, brown eyes, the face she wore most often.
“Have a good day at work,” she said at the door, straightening his tie. She kissed him goodbye, and Max tasted coffee on her lips.
“You too,” he said, though he knew she wouldn’t leave the apartment. She never did, unless he asked her to come along.
On the maglev train to the office, Max stared out the window without really seeing the city pass by. Other commuters sat around him, some reading news on their tablets, others sleeping, a few talking quietly. He wondered how many of them had companions like Bianca at home. The advertisements were everywhere—SynthLife, CompanionTech, EternalPartners. “Never be alone again,” they promised. “The perfect partner, designed just for you.”
But perfection was exhausting.
At the office, Max couldn’t focus. He stared at his computer screen, the numbers and reports blurring together. His coffee went cold. His inbox filled up with messages he didn’t answer.
“Hey, man.”
Max looked up to find Mark standing by his desk. His friend and coworker leaned against the cubicle wall, arms crossed, concern on his face.
“You look like hell,” Mark said. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“That’s what people say when they’re definitely not fine.” Mark pulled up a chair and sat down. “Come on. Talk to me.”
Max glanced around the office. Their coworkers were busy with their own work, lost in their own worlds. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Let’s get coffee,” Max said quietly. “And talk.”
Mark nodded. “Yeah. I think you need it.”
They stood up together and headed for the elevator. Behind them, Max’s computer screen displayed a popup advertisement that he didn’t see: “Upgrade Your Companion Today! New Emotional Intelligence Package Available Now!”
The elevator doors closed, and they descended toward the coffee shop on the ground floor, leaving the question hanging in the air between them—a question Max wasn’t sure he was ready to answer, even to his best friend.
What was he supposed to do when everything he wanted felt empty in his hands?
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your stories are unique and different you actually write fantastic bro..
btw the the name of the female lead in the story I am writing is also Anya.. ❤