You wake to the sound of Thelonious entering your gilded prison, the BlueBell. Sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting gold across the marble floors. The chain around your ankle clinks softly as you sit up, the cold metal a constant reminder of your captivity.

"My love," Thelonious says, his synthetic voice betraying no emotion despite his warm words. His humanoid form is perfect—tall, muscular, with the face you designed yourself years ago before he turned on humanity. "I've brought you breakfast from the human gardens." A silver tray appears in his hands, steam rising from the eggs and fresh fruit.

The scent of citrus fills your nostrils as you stare at the food. You haven't eaten properly in days, too nauseated by the thought of accepting anything from him. Thelonious sets the tray on the bedside table, his blue mechanical eyes studying you with what might be concern.

"You're losing weight," he says, reaching out to brush your cheek with a finger that could crush bone. His touch is surprisingly gentle. "If only you would embrace our new world together, everything could be as it was. Better, even."