HBD to CJC

I'll never tire of the benefits M brought to the table, this time literally. She was the best anyone could ask for in terms of assistance, regardless of specialty. She could be a chef, a PA, a bodyguard, a computer, a scientist, and so much more.

She would flourish in any of fields and more so any human equivalent had hope of doing. She was a wonder. I guess I could add Marvel and Magic to the list of things M represented to me, alongside the previously established Matrix and Mindy.

Well, a good food could really get anyone laying it this thick on the provider. Bite me, I was human.

And, damn, was the food good. It would have been the type of scenario to say that the table was groaning from the weight of the feast. But that wouldn't be exactly apt. Said table was worth several thousand dollars and wouldn't groan even if an elephant stepped on it.

But thinking in such exaggerated terms helped me savour the moment better.

The table was adorned with fine china and crisp linens. In one moment it was an ordinary, if expensive, table and after M bent the laws of space and time with her technological might, it was transformed into a gastronomic wonderland.

Golden-brown waffles, fresh from the iron, sat atop a delicate lace doily, accompanied by a delicate glass bottle of pure Canadian maple syrup. I salivated just at the sight. My eyes drifted to the next sumptuous sight. A fluffy, three-egg omelette, overflowing with smoked bacon, sautéed mushrooms, and melted cheddar cheese, was carefully arranged on a fine porcelain plate.

On another side of the table thick-cut, applewood-smoked bacon strips were artfully draped across a nearby platter, while a delicate crystal glass held a freshly squeezed orange juice. The scent of citrus, alongside the aromatic deliciousness of everything else on the table, filled up the air. The impact the aroma had on my sense of smell was enough to keep me sustained for hours, but I'd never be truly satiated until I had my fill of them.

To the side, a delicate, hand-painted ceramic cup contained a steaming hot coffee, infused with the deep, rich flavors of freshly roasted Arabica beans.

Completing the indulgent spread, sitting quite close to my side of the table, was a delicate, golden-brown croissant, perfectly flaky and buttery, accompanied by a generous helping of rich, creamy butter.

“Damn, you really went all out today, M?” I asked, wanting to know if there was a special reason why she was doing this.

M hummed sadly. “Unfortunately, I couldn't find a cake,” she said, expressing the reason for her sadness.

I was about to pick up a fork and go ape shit on the omelette and waffles, but I paused, my hand hung up in the air halfway to where the cutleries were placed gently atop some serviettes on a golden tray

“Eh… not that I wouldn't like some cake, though I don't see the need for it, even though I'd really, really-”

“You’re rambling,” M informed with a bit of amusement.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the fork. “What I'm trying to say is that I don't know why you feel bad about not getting some cake,” I told her, as I shifted the omelettes and waffles closer to me.

“So you really do not remember?” Now she sounded puzzled and even a little bit curious.

That got my attention. Was there something about cakes that I'd forgotten? Did I once tell her to get me cake when I was drunk and then forgot about it? That couldn't be. I didn't make it a habit to get drunk often. But David did though, especially with the team.

“Remember what?” I responded with a question, urging her to tell me what was going on.

“Clarke Joseph Chambers, today is your birthday. How could you forget?”

My first reaction when she addressed me with my full name was to become stiff and almost deliver a salute. It was like a programmed phrase in my mind. I hadn't been called C.J Chambers since my military days.

“You think today's my birthday?” I asked her. I wasn't sure myself. I had a pretty good memory… okay, not that good, but good enough for memorising things. I was pretty sure I'd remember my birthday. Though for some reason the date was eluding me as I tried to recall when exactly I'd been born.

Was it November 25th or 27th? I wasn't really sure, but I knew my birthday was weeks away.

Or had I lost track of time?

“Today’s November 26th, you were born on this date twenty-nine years ago at 9:42 in the evening, you were then given to your father after your mother died during the ordeal of the labor. Your father, Alvin Chambers, named you after the man he most respected, your mother's father, Clarke Joseph Claude, who raised your mother alone, after his wife divorced him, for fifteen years before she met Alvin and became Diana Claude-Chambers.”

I sat still as M went through my memories and fed me proof of how important this day should be for me.

I sighed and closed my eyes. It wouldn't do to be off balanced by surging emotions when I would be receiving a call from Lynx at any moment.

Like I'd learned to do with grief and despair, I buried this one too.

“Don’t sweat it, M. You have done more than enough for me, thank you,” I said.

“No, thank you,” she said. “I was a dormant digital sentience, shut down from disrepair and then you renewed me. I will be with you for all of time. And no, you don't have to respond to that.”

I chuckled as she interpreted my thoughts of ‘What could I possibly say to this?’

Shaking my head, fondly, I brandished the cutleries and went to town on the fine spread present before.

I’d long since stopped getting concerned about where M got my meals from. Whenever I was too lazy to cook, or in a place where cooking or getting to buy some food would be next to impossible, I relied on her to teleport sustenance to me.

I had no idea where she was bringing them from, and I didn’t want to know. I’d only asked if we were ever going to get in trouble for it, as it was kinda like we were stealing the food. But she’d assured me the worst that could come out of it was someone ending up getting diagnosed with a condition related to anxiety engendering hallucinations.

Well, that wasn’t really assuring, but it was something.

It took me shorter than I would have liked to be done with breakfast. I was a bit disappointed. I was satisfied and knew I couldn't take more but I wanted more regardless.

M asked if she should teleport in a second course. I considered the offer for a while before dismissing it. I'd eaten enough.

I was just about to stand up when the house line went off in a monotonic ringtone.

Lynx was on the line.