There hadn't really been any expectation about spending such a long time playing chess with Jules. In fact, there had not been any expectation about playing a game at all. Cassandra had dreamt about just going over to her bed, and trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

That had not been the plan the automation had in mind, apparently. Five minutes after the woman had said her goodbyes with Jared, the bucket-scrap had come skipping along. It had mastered her, refusing to go out into the charging stations. Jules had wanted to spend some ‘quality time with the best partner in the world.’ Cassandra had not been happy about her being the recipient of that title.

Nonetheless, she had eventually caved in. With no way to make the automation go away, the chessboard had been brought out, and games had been played. How many had they gone through? A good hour had passed, at the very minimum. Closer to seventy minutes actually…

"Shouldn't your power be running out soon?" Cassandra asked Jules, the automation trying to stack a set of cards into a pyramid. The third layer was going well. Another thing that the automations had over human would have been their lack of shaking hands. A great skill to have with delicate work.

But, every movement had some kind of cost. The happy-goes liked to call it a mental one, yet there was much more than that. Every living being consumed nutrition in some way or another. Cassandra, as the go-to example, ate various pieces of organic matter, converting it to a workable energy inside herself.

This was not the same for automations. Like most other human-made constructs, they ran on electrical energy. Or, well, there were always another few ideas about what power-cells they had inside them. The government was keeping it hidden, for good reasons. Nevertheless, these creations needed power, just like any other construct. The movement was not free.

One would think that the power sources inside them could hold them up for days at a time. That a small nuclear reactor sat inside each of them, ready to make them walk for millennia to come. While Cassandra did not doubt that some automations had just that equipment, the population had been assured that was not the case for the police force’s constructs. Rather, they all held a battery inside them, instead of any generators able to cause unintentional damage to their surroundings in the event of damage.

"Don't compare me to the lower bunch, thank you very much," Jules said, making a sniff at the apparent undignified question towards it. Cassandra sensed a minor superiority complex going on. How utterly unsurprising. "I have upgraded my power capacity. I can run along for a week before I even need to think about anything akin to going to a power station."

"Is that time estimate based on standing still or on active duty?" Cassandra inquired, knowing exactly who people wanted to brag. And while the automation might not have been one, it was clear where it got its inspiration from. The lousy people of the world, who had the need to use every second proving just how big their productive organs were.

It was a sad thing, but she had worked with too many of that type to count. It fit a good percentage of the population. Why was this? Unloving parents? Maybe an under-praised school life? Or was there some problem with the subject they liked to focus so much on? Cassandra personally just thought that it was an organic personality trait. It would come forth no matter what. It was all about luck. Given the circumstances, nobody could really be judged too harshly for their felt superiority, when no one had commented on it before.

"... Shut up," Jules finally said. Even the greatest chess players had it hard when confronted with irrefutable facts. If anything else had said, like the automation defending its proudful statement, Cassandra had been more than ready to fact check it. Calling people out on their self-loving nature was a rare joy for her. It was not every day that she could talk in such a way, after all. No, the loving Cass would never say something like that!

… What was this supposed to be? The two had situated themselves in the common room, had played a freaking board game for an hour of her free time, and nothing else of importance had been done. Cassandra had not yet done her stretches of the day, hadn't even gotten started on any of the after-duty reports, and no thoughts had been around the subject of making plans.

Was that good? Or was that a terrible thing? Planning had been a part of her every thought, yet the current time had been devoid of that. It felt… a little relaxing. There was none of the usual stress, not a lick of worrying about if her current actions were good for the future. She was just… relaxing on a comfy sofa, pointing out the flaws in a construct’s wordings.

The reports were supposed to be written. They had not been started on. Normally, they would have been done thirty minutes ago. That had to be bad. By her standards, it was a crime in itself. She had sinned by the highest order.

Yet… she could not find the least bit of her mind caring. Her thoughts were on finding a comfortable position to put her body in, just so she could move as little as possible, while still having a good view of the pyramid building. Just what did Cassandra think she was doing?

She was relaxing. She was taking her time with things, not putting any stress on herself. Jules had forced her on the regimen, yes, but Cassandra would have been surprised if she could step away in the current moment. A short time free of responsibilities was so freeing.

There were so many tasks to complete, so many scenarios to plan for. There was always something that could be done, some subject that could be researched. Each second spent on the couch was a second that could have been used for something better.

Had she ever sat on the couch before? Cassandra had sat on the chair beside it during her introduction to the building, yet there had never been a time where she had even put her hand on the furniture's side. She had never felt the fake leather, how her fingers felt a little numb when she ran her finger along with it.

It was such a small detail, not able to be used at any point, yet it fascinated her to no end. Cassandra felt like she could spend a year on the couch just staring at the texture, never ever feeling bored of it all. The colouring was overall black, yet there were so many nuances hidden. The scheme was never constant, the artificial variance normally invisible to the eye. Yet, when she put her head really close to the side, the truth came out to her. It was beautiful. It was something she had never seen before. It was… relaxing.

Then Jules failed to build the fifth layer of the pyramid, the table shaking the smallest bit too much during a readjustment. The automation had scratched its foot to one of the table legs while getting a bit higher up with the back. That had been a big mistake, every step of progress falling at once.

The construct was silent, the automation not moving any part of itself. Did Jules think that not moving would stop the past from being fact? How… abstract a thought. Cassandra had to lie in wonder about it, the sight distracting her from the mysteries of the furniture she laid on.

Humans would have to move after a few seconds, their brains catching up with the large mistake they had made. Automations… did not seem to have such a problem. Jules was certainly able to sit still in the chair, not even their eyes around. It just looked forward like a statue. If not for the light swaying of the blouse, Cassandra might have thought it a modern art piece. ‘The expression of failure.’ That thought almost made her crack a smile. The pain of others always did have that effect on her.

However, there was a point where even the most entertaining of thoughts could not match the desired pay-off. The construct was seemingly fine with no reactions. Cassandra's mind was hotwired into thinking the reaction would come in just the second after the current one, yet every expectation was blown off. At some time, she just needed progress in life.

"That could have gone more smoothly. Would one of your brethren perhaps have performed better?" Cassandra asked with the innocence she had trained for so long to show off. People always underestimated her when they thought her a new and fresh hire, never realising she was exploiting them for all she could get. It also worked in other situations, of course, but that had been the main purpose of it for a long time.

The effects were instant. The automation let its arms fall to its side, its head likewise falling over and beginning to look down at its feet under the table. Was that sadness on Jules’ face? No… it looked more like mental anguish. The automation really did act like a child. Would a tantrum be thrown over its own failure? Cassandra did hope for that, in a weird way. She always liked it when the bottle was shaken too much, and the surroundings had to bear the effects.

Again, she was left with no finish. Instead of throwing the table, or doing anything that would show off anger, the construct instead leaned back in its chair, making a long and extended sigh. It looked a little sullen. That was another reaction to it, Cassandra supposed.

… And a boring reaction at that. There was nothing enjoyable about it. It was just the showing of somebody in pain, even if that somebody would never be able to feel it.

"How did it go with Jared, by the way?" Cassandra asked, deciding that moving away from the subject would be better. She needed new entertainment, the mood for couch-staring impossible to replicate for a while more. "Were there any problems with him?"

That older man was a tough nut to crack. Cassandra knew he was a sweet man, even if he was one step too far in the past. And there was the hygiene problem… but, still, a confused man in a world too modern for him. And a part of that annoying modernism was the introduction of the automations. It had been during her first days at the station that Cassandra had learned of that hate.

According to Jared, he had been chewed out by the boss for shouting a bit too loudly at the automation while out in the public. It had been during the time where everybody wanted away, making the instance filmed from all sides. It had been a PR disaster, yet it had changed the man’s ideas about the constructs in the slightest.

Even if he had been made to be quiet about it out in the open, Jared still openly showed his disgust for the automations. Cassandra frequently debated if that disgust was due to what they were or what they weren't. For the last couple of weeks, she had guessed it to be the latter. Some just could not move on, even if they so desperately needed to do so. Cassandra knew it was different for those in pain, yet they never seemed to realise the emotion they let out to those around them. That negativity… was enough to choke some. She was resistant, but others with too much empathy had the potential of being crippled by it.

"It was not that fun talking to him," Jules said, twiddling with the cards on the table. There was no second attempt to build the pyramid. At least that annoying sulking had disappeared. "Thought that it was a good idea to order me to shut up and all. I swear Otto is way too compliant about that stuff."

"Otto?" Cassandra said, mildly confused. "Is that the name of the automation Jared is with?"

"Oh, no, it doesn't have a name. Jared refused to give it a name," Jules answered, waving away any confusion. Yet, that answer only brought more of it. Then again… Cassandra was supposed to be relaxing, so she just let it go. "I just like calling it that."

"Good to know. But, were there no other problems?" Cassandra supposed it could have gone semi-well. There was always the possibility.

"Nothing too serious. Though… I think I made him angry at the end."

"In what way?"

"I suggested that he should start on testosterone supplements since his impotence was clearly causing anger issues," Jules said straight-faced. The construct even had the gall to begin checking its non-existent nails.

…

Why had Cassandra expected anything else? Suddenly, that couch seemed so much more comfortable to deal with. At least it upheld workplace protocol.

Only the thought of somebody having it worse than her allowed the woman to keep herself together.