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Bradley and Devra exchanged the shortest look at the mention of the word friend, both awkwardly darting their eyes away an insta-second later.

“Nice to meet you too, Squally.” He leaned toward Devra. “It’s so cute.”

Devra batted an annoyed hand. “Its exterior is a pixelated children’s toy unworthy of its inner labyrinth of cutting-edge technology. Wait until you converse with it. Go on, ask it a question.”

“Like what?”

“Anything you want.”

“Um. Tell me about yourself, Squally.”

“I’m a companion-oriented virtual assistant designed to make your life more efficient and more enjoyable. As one of the many top-tier products brought to you by StormNetix Innovations—‘Storming into your home with better technology!’—I…”

“Bit of an aggressive slogan,” Bradley whispered to Devra.

“That’s what I said!”

“…can help you manage your busy schedule, provide emotional support when you’re feeling low, help you celebrate those special occasions, and much, much more. Just try me! Is there anything I can help you with today, Bradley?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to tell you a joke?”

“A joke? Why not?” He was already grinning, mostly because Devra appeared gleeful at the request.

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Art.”

“Art who?”

“Art-who-D2.”

“Get it?” Devra asked. “Like R2-D2?”

“I get it. Very funny.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been working on that. Getting the timing right was excruciating. Not to mention the emphasis on the punchline. Squally figured out how to do real-time translations into eight different languages before it figured out how to tell a decent knock-knock joke.” Devra beamed. “Ask it something else.”

“Okay. Squally, what’s your favourite food?”

“Based on the taste-profile developed for me by the team at StormNetix Innovations—‘Storming into your home with better technology!’—I would say my favourite food is chocolate-covered strawberries.”

Bradley turned to Devra, who was pretending to examine her fingernails as a flush crawled up her neck.

“Chocolate-covered strawberries, you say? Interesting. That just happens to be my favourite food as well.”

“How cool is that!” Squally said, as Devra muttered, “A bizarre coincidence.”

“Very bizarre,” Bradley teased.

“You know I work with a whole team of programmers, right? As head of programming, I’m responsible for integration and fine-tuning and my own subsections of code, but I’m not responsible for every single line of dialogue.”

“Of course not.” Heat was spreading across his chest at the guilty expression on her face, and his next question just slipped out. “Squally, why do you think Devra hasn’t written me back?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand…” Squally started, but Bradley stopped listening, focused only on Devra. The flush of her skin. How her eyelashes fluttered nervously. How she nibbled ever so slightly on the inside of her lower lip. “Why haven’t you written me back, Devra?”