>"Are you people insane? Did the way I wrote my address on the order form make me look like a skunkfucker or something?"

>"S-sir, I'm not even sure what that means!" The rep stuttered.

>"Then get someone on the line who does!" You say with finality, tired of dealing with someone who clearly has no answers for you.

>"A-alright sir, I'll put you on hold and get the head of the sales department on. Does that sound OK?"

>They've been bouncing you around the lines for what feels like hours now, but you don't have a clock in your den to know just how much of your life you're not getting back.

>"Freaking dandy." you huff.

>The line clicks and the sudden intrusion of soothing jazz tones corrodes your sanity further.

>You take the handset off your ear, laying it face down on the table as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

>Taking a deep breath, you lower your hand to the mint green owners manual.

>The cover depicts a stylized black and white cat robot with bright yellow glowing eye screens.

>Not the color that you'd imagined for their eyes, but it could've been anything on that old black and white tube.

>Just like how you hadn't imagined she would be a cat.

>Not even one of those 'catgirls' that the Japanese were fond of, but the full nine lives. Button nose, tiny fangs, ears, tail and all.

>They'd left normal hands on it, but you supposed it would need them to do much of anything.

>It also had long, flowing black hair that you would've found very nice on a girl.

>But, unfortunately, still a cat.

>You turned back to the booklet and opened it to the first page.

>'Thank you for purchasing a fine Pioneer-Standard home product!'

>Right.

>You skip all the thanking nonsense, and single out the beginning of the actual manual.

>'So you bought yourself an Electroluxe?'

>Sure did! You sneer in your mind with the most mocking tone you can imagine.

>'There are many things a new Electroluxe owner should know before waking up their unit for the first time.'"
>'The most important being, your Electroluxe home companion is personalized! [SHE] is the only one on this earth named [JULIE] with [BLACK] hair!

>"Julie, huh? Not a bad name…"

>You heard a soft click, and looked back to the fuzzy robot.

>But nothing changed.

>Must be the house settling or something.

>You return your attention to the manual.

>'Besides that, there are a few important steps that should be taken before you wake them!'

>'First: Make sure that your included charging dock is secured, and plugged in to any standard 120 volt wall outlet.'

>Check.

>'Second: Make sure their vision is unobstructed. Electroluxe housekeepers have a tendency to become confused if their eyes are working, but can't see anything.'

>That's a little concerning, but check.

>'Third: Make sure to give them plenty of space to get oriented! Electroluxe housekeepers may be compact, but they still need plenty of room to find their bearings!'

>Hopefully your den is big enough for that.

>'Once you've completed these steps, [JULIE] is ready to be powered on! Just say: “[JULIE], wake up!" and watch the magic happen!'

>Yeah right. Maybe when we get this whole 'cat' thing sorted out.

>Speaking of, you can hear a faint voice tweeting out of the handset.

>Picking it up, you put it to your ear, and ready yourself for a customer service nightmare yet again.

>"Hello-hello! Anyone still on this line?"

>"Yeah I'm here." You respond to the chipper voice.

>"Great! My names Gary Neintach and I am the head of sales here at Pioneer-Standard Northwest. What's your name, son?"

>"Anon Mous."

>"Pleasure to meet, Anon!" He said, the sounds of lightning fast typing just barely leaking through to your ears.

>"I see that you've recently purchased a Super Deluxe model PS-68 Electroluxe housekeeper. I would offer my congratulations, but its seems you're having some problems. May I ask what's the matter?"

>"It's a cat."

>"I'm sorry?" He confusedly replied.

>"It's a cat, Gary." You deadpan with fake chipper in your voice. “A robot cat standing in my living room."

>Silence.

>"That's… a little odd."

>"You read my mind."

>"Can I ask the sex, hair color, and name of the unit you have?"

>"Female, Black, Julie."

>The typing through the phone grew faster and louder.

>The soft click behind you went ignored yet again.

>"Alrighty. And have you told Julie to wake up yet?"

>"No, I haven't told her to wake up."

>"Well, you can rest easy knowing that you can trust your eyes. Says here that Julie was accessorized in the image of a bicolor cat."

>"Why?" You carefully ask, not entirely sure if you want the answer.

>"Such information is private and belongs to Julie's intended owner." He said stiffly.

>Well, that answers that.

>"What kind of nut buys a robot meant to look like a cat, anyway? The idea alone makes me a little sick to my stomach."

>"Unfortunately also private." He said.

>The line went silent as you both couldn't think of anything to say.

>"Well, now what?"

>Gary took the opening to try to allay your concerns.

>“Luckily, since she's never been powered on, and therefore hasn't 'imprinted' on you, so to speak…"

>"Don't-" You quickly interrupt. “Don't use the word 'imprinted' please."

>...Sorry." He sighed into the handset.

>"Since she hasn't marked you as her owner," He said, emphasizing the change in phrasing. “You're safe to box her back up and wait on the next available return truck."

>"Great, and how long would I have to wait for return shipping and a different Electroluxe?"
>"The logistics manager is getting back to me on that first part, but I can let you know that unfortunately the Super Deluxes were a very limited run, and a replacement would end up being you waiting for next year's model."

>"Damn. That's a long wait for something I spent six cars worth of money on. Is there any way we could just have a body kit delivered, or send it in to have it's cosmetics replaced?"

>"Unfortunately that's not an option. Sixty-eights go through a lot of training to prepare for life in the homes of their new owners, and they have plenty of time to get accustomed to the way they look."

>"You're telling me that's not something you can just reprogram?"

>"Unfortunately no, their programming isn't really all that structural. It mostly just pokes their intelligence core to do things rather than acting as a list of everything they do like in older models. They work exactly like we do, just railroaded."

>"So what's my course of action here?"

>"Being honest? Just send her back and wait for the other guy to complain about him getting the wrong one, or wait until next years model. Both would take about the same amount of time."

>"God dammit."

>"I Agree." He says solemnly. “Could a couple hundred bucks in compensation help at all?"

>"You know Gary, I don't really want the money back. I'm just going to get her back in the box and wait for a letter. Sound good?"

>"Works for me. I'll go ahead and get started with this return filing and get logistics on that letter for you."

>“Thank you." You reply before remembering how you started the call.

>“Oh, could you tell that customer service woman I apologize? I was really worked up and kind of took it out on her.'

>"Of course I can, and I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that. Have a nice day."

>"You too, bye."

>You sigh, shoulders slumping as you drop the handset into it's cradle.

>Well, at least the wait is over.

>All you have to do now is pack it back up and wait.

>Again.

>You rest your head on the desk for a short time, frustrated.

+------------+

>It's gone.

>It's fucking gone.

>You turned your back for five minutes and the damned robot turned on and skittered off.

>Why did it even do that? You didn't tell it to wake up yet.

>Either way, staring like a drooling moron at an empty box isn't going to solve your problem.

>You plod over to your mudroom window, pushing the dusty curtain out of the way to take a careful look up and down your block.

>The dim sodium streetlamps that dot the neighborhood do little to light up the way.

>But even with the poor visibility, it doesn't seem like it's outside.

>That would be very hard to explain to your neighbors.

>Oh, nothing serious, just a robot cat woman in a frilly maid outfit that was sent to me by mistake.

>The thought made your skin crawl.

>You continued looking.

>Nothing in the kitchen.

>Not in the den anymore (obviously.)

>Nor the garage, backyard, or laundry room.

>Where the hell could it have even gone? Why would it go anywhere?

>You're getting a bit frustrated and concerned by the time you finish searching the ground floor.

>Your first clue comes when you find a fuzzy black triangle resting at the bottom of your stairs.

>Picking it up, you can tell it's definitely an ear.

>Just like the one in the accessories box.

>That's weird, you taped that box back up.

>And another one further up the stairs.

>By the time you reach your bedroom door following tiny tufts of black fuzz you hear faint crying.

>That doesn't seem right. Why would they program them to do that?

>You twist the doorknob, and step into your bedroom.

>Could've sworn I heard crying in here.

>The muffled sound of someone screaming into a pillow emanates from your closet.

>Ah.

>You slowly walk to your closet door.

>Putting your hand against the handle, you hesitate.

>Gary said that they're just like people.

>Perhaps you should try treating her like one, instead of barging in just to shut her off.

>"Julie?" You ask the door.

>The crying pauses, the only thing you hear for a long moment is labored… breathing?

>They breathe? These things keep getting more and more interesting by the second.

>That's besides the point.

>"I'm coming in, okay?" You continue.

>"N-n- Please! Just L-leave me in here and I won't be your problem anymore!"

>The tiny pang of guilt grew.

>"I'm coming in now."

>You try to twist the knob.

>It slips in your hand.

>"Julie, unlock the door please."

>"J-just l-let me-" She tried to reply, her 'breath' hitching her to a sobbing standstill.

>"Julie. Please open the door."

>The soft whimpers behind the door grow quiet, but not gone.

>"I-I'm sorry." She apologizes, fumbling with the lock.

>Swinging the door open, you take in the sight of the poor thing.

>Both of her ears are most certainly gone, and her now deep blue eye screens look up at you, a mix of fear and sadness that brutalizes the pocket of guilt in your throat.

>Her previously mint green sleeves were dampened to the same navy shade.

>A selfish part in the back of your mind hopes that you don't have to refill something for that.

>God, why would they design them to look so pitiful. Is it just to make you feel like even more of a bastard than you are?

>The hell does she even need tears for?

>"I know *hic* I disgust you." She chokes out. “Please, just tell me to wipe my core so you don't have to deal with me."

>"I'm not disgusted by you." You say sincerely. “And I don't like the sound of that second part. No."

>"I know that's n-not true." She spat, wrapping her arms around herself. “You said so on the phone. I heard it."

>She looked away as her eyes smoothly shifted to a hazy purple, her colorless 'eyelids' slanting in a cartoonish frustrated look.

>You could have died from cuteness, if not for circumstances.

>"I was not talking about you." You insist more forcefully, pointing a finger at her. “You did nothing wrong."

>You kneel down to her level, and put a hand on her shoulder.

>She seems to calm a bit, waiting for what you have to say.

>Her catlike face just doesn't look quite right without the ears, does it?

>You sigh.

>"Look…" You start, not really sure exactly where you're going, but talking anyway.

>"I was really not expecting what I saw when I opened that box. I got spooked and said some things I probably shouldn't have when I thought you couldn't hear. That was wrong of me."

>She rested her hands in her lap, her eyes still buzzing in purple, but more softly.

>The cartoonish angry slant of her eye screens made you feel just as scorned as when your mother scolded you as a kid.

>Didn't make it any less adorable.

>"And when I said that thought made me sick to my stomach, I meant whoever bought you. It's just not something I could see someone in their right mind doing. I'm sorry."

>She huffed, and her eyes shifted back to a sad cool blue.

>"I'm sorry, too." she said “I shouldn't have ran away."

>Was that really so wrong of her?

>You should tell her she didn't do anything wrong.

>"Can we just start over?" You ask.

>"Please." She whispered, not meeting your gaze.

>"I'm Anon. Welcome to my home." you say, extending your hand.

>"J-julie. It's nice to meet you, Anon."

>After shaking her hand, you held up the one holding her ears.

>"So how do these go in?"

>Turns out, very simply.

>You just put the shiny metal pegs into the shiny metal sockets.

>Months of preschool training put to good use!

>Each gave a surprisingly hearty clunk when she locked them into place.

>'Like a masterlock.' she says.

>Neat.

>"There, better?"

>"Thank you Anon." She replies shyly, softly running her jointed fingers along an ear.

>A short, disconcerting silence takes over the cramped space.

>You break it quickly, before the awkwardness can simmer into real discomfort.

>"Why don't I show you around, eh?" You say, offering your hand to the now much calmer robot.

>"It's almost 11:00 sir. I wouldn't want to keep you from sleep for my benefit." She says, rubbing her hands together nervously.

>"Oh." Your eyebrows jump in surprise.

>You really did need to get a watch. That phone call really ate four hours of your life while you weren't looking.

>"Tomorrow's my day off anyway, it's no trouble."

>"I really must insist, the key to a long happy life is good sleep!" She says with what you can only describe as the fakest chipper you've ever seen.

>Maybe she just needs some time.

“Well I suppose that gives you plenty of time to charge up then. Big house, lots of ground to cover."
>You shake your hand a little with a smile, and she hesitantly takes it

>"I'll show you your room as a sneak peek tonight, what do you say?"

>Her eyes blinked at your hand around hers, flickering from deep blue to a more subdued sky hue.

>She looks back up at you, and you pull her up.

>Even after all that, she puts on the tiniest of smiles.

>Yeah. Some time should do it.

>"Okay."