Moving is hard

Senior POV

After having a very serious discussion of where to go, and how to get the money to do so, we ended up with, 'I don't know, I just feel like taking a vacation, and I just need to have a major bank to help me fund it.

So we ended up discussing where to go, I voted Space because I've never been there, and I would never ever get the money to do so ever again, but then Kylie retorted with saying that we would be vulnerable, extremely vulnerable, and it was pretty obvious that when she was saying we, she meant me.

Cause in her argument, all the opponent needs to do is poke a damn hole into the ship and poof, I decompress, and it's all over, because unlike people who somehow survives on Mars for years, I'm not that durable.

She says that an isolated island would be the best, and if we want to stay there permanently, she could easily find dirt to blackmail, or as she likes to put it, 'convince,' the owners to give ownership to us in exchange for hiding several things about them.

However, I'm firmly against being alone on an island with a robot whose tried to do moves on me twice already, I'm the person supposed to do all the moves! Cause how is a robot supposed to feel those urges? This isn't a Plot story where horny robots exist!

Right? I'm no technical or programming expert, I'm home taught, but those are my firm and unwavering beliefs, based on cold and hard... superstition!

Come on! I'm not above that!

I tell her that I refuse to sit alone on an island with her, and she seems quite puzzled on why I didn't want to be alone after stressing all the time at work surrounded by awful people, and not just be alone and watch the world die on a private island.

Anyways, she reminded me to quit my job, like I didn't already know to do that, obviously cause I know almost everything! Right?

I tell her to schedule the trip, but I demand to do a low-orbit flight to get there, and to run it by me when she has the moving planned out, since I'll busy organizing everything on what to ship and what to bring and what to FUCKING BURN.

I swiftly pick up the stuff I can pack into my bag and take apart my computer so I could fit into a ski bag-looking... bag.

I then add a few things that I believed I needed and peered to see how Kylie was doing, only to see her in a Lotus position meditating.

"It's all planned out," She announces, "I'm just monitoring police, government, and local communications and more. Just let me know when you are ready to have a chat," She says, and I feel like she said that in a mocking tone, but whatever, when you can multitask like her and hack into heavily encrypted communications, I guess you have the right.

I sigh and get back to packing the large piles of machinery and waste into several bags that some drones conveniently dropped off through my still broken window.

...

When my hands had at least 3 band aids on them from all the sharp objects I touched, my shoulders sore from all the stuff I carried, I swear I must've sorted and packed at least a ton today, but I believe everyone else disagrees.

"OK, I'm ready for a run through of your plans on where we are gonna move," I say.

She doesn't respond, I raise my one of my eyebrows and wave a hand in front of her eyes and she still doesn't respond.

I start feeling a little anxious about what the hell is going on so I lightly slap her and she softly emits a soft, yet still audible moan, of arousal?

She slowly opens her eyes to see my face in front of her, and I don't know what she saw written on my face, but whatever it was, she recoiled back like a Nitro Express gun.

"OK, so we were gonna review the plan, are you still up for it, or are you too busy studying something?" I say, with a little edge on my tone, she ain't allowed to look at porn if I'm hauling my ass all over the place!

"Sorry, I was fuc- focusing on m-making the supervision automated!" She argues, and she sees that there is no way to convince me to think that she wasn't doing a thinh she shouldn't have been doing.

She sighs in exasperation but doesn't confess, instead tells me that we'll be staying in a small private resort in the Polynesian Isles that was running dry due to the owner burning cash doing... illicit deeds.

For these reasons, we both had the options to buy the island, or just do a plain old hostile takeover if we really wanted to, and to get there, as agreed, she said we would go into low orbit.

Happy with this plan, I ask when we'll be ready to go, and she simply says 3 hours.

I guess she knew I would say yes, so made the preparations so we could leave as quickly as possible.

I get back to packing and get myself ready to see space.