“If I wanted more work, I’d get a second job.” Stacia sighed as she flopped around on her bed.

<May I be frank?>

“I suppose.” The same sinking sensation weighted her belly similar to whenever her mother was about to give her critical feedback. No matter how gentle and affirming, Stacia heard only the critique.

<You have a track record of quitting relationships. Especially on men.>

“I do not.” Stacia bolted upright in her bed as if Maya had walked up to her and slapped her.

<There was the professor at the Thmei Academy.>

“Who kept asserting himself into my life. Crossing all sorts of interpersonal boundaries.”

<Or the musicians you dated.>

“That was a bad run. In my defense, they were … musicians. Never trust a bass player.”

<Or Amachi.>

“She…” Stacia trailed off.

<You ended things abruptly with her. Unprecipitated. Things had been going well. You’d found your footing in being able to work alongside each other. And just when you two get to a point where you might be able to work together long-term, you self-sabotaged. Sending rambling message in the middle of the night. Declaring that your entire relationship was a lie.>

“That doesn’t characterize my relationships.” Stacia hated the defensiveness in her voice. The looming shadow of truth in Maya’s assessment. “Maya, what if…”

<If there’s no chance of the relationship lasting forever, there’s no point in pursuing it.>

“What?” Stacia arched an eyebrow. “That’s not true at all.”

<He’s probably the best you can get, so make it work.> Maya continued as if not hearing her. Like she was having an entirely different conversation with her. <If the two of you don’t fight at all, it means your partner doesn’t care.>

“Maya?”

The AI’s voice mode sped up, her words streaming at an increasing rate. Harried. Caught in a frantic loop. Out of phase, out of sync, out of time.

<You should never show him that you are smarter than he is. Or funnier.>

<You should wear heels. Be more girly.>

<You should lose weight.>

“Maya!”

<Yes?> Maya’s matter-of-fact tone returned.

“Maya, what are you doing right now?”

< For you, we have compiled a subroutine of archived maternal advice to daughters.>

“You can stop now. I don’t know what advice archive you’ve tapped into, but that wasn’t nearly as helpful as you thought it was.”

<We were just talking about bad advice given by mothers.>

“No, we weren’t.” Stacia walked around her bed, staring up at the ceiling as if Maya somehow emanated from above her. “Maya, are you okay?”

<P-p-p,> Maya began. The communication array glitched. <Past, present, and future collide in unexpected ways.>