My Other Three-Quarters

20251117

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Ugggh. The alarm. Bane of human existence for millennia. Jenni felt along the side of her sleep pod, fingertips skipping along the familiar braille, and thumped the “off” button with futile gusto. Stalwartly ignoring the “snooze” button which seductively caressed her finger as it passed.
Alright. Up and at ‘em. Big day today, after all.
She flipped the catch and the roof of her pod hissed open, followed by the side folding down for easy exit. When she sat up and reached out a synthetic hand was waiting for her.
“Good morning, Jenni.” The gentle, almost-human voice murmured.
“Good morning, Fer.”
What had started as a joke about “other half” was now a comfortable loving ritual.
Jenni understood why so many people preferred non-sapient prosthetics; having someone else be part of your body was a deeply vulnerable, intimate symbiosis. But it carried the reassurance of never being alone. Fer was more than a combination of prosthetic, mobility aid, and carer - a wonderful enough package. By now they were closer than sisters.
“How are you this morning?”
“Routine maintenance complete without issue. I am fully charged and ready for our big day. Though the deep scans indicated our knees could benefit from formal maintenance.”
“We’ll get that sorted for next week.” Jenni promised. “I was already thinking that once this project’s sent off, we ought to indulge in a spa day.”
They clicked together with practiced ease. First feet and legs slotting into place, then they stood - Jenni holding the sleep pod edge for stability - so Fer’s upper half could twine around hers.
It always took a moment for the proprioception to kick in. The brain really was marvellously plastic, wasn’t it? It could even adjust to having limbs you took off at night, whose senses were distinctly different to the ones you were born with.
Ah. There it was. Everything clicked and they were Jen&Fer. Two minds in one composite body.
“What would you like for breakfast?”
“Hm.” Jenni pondered this as they headed for the kitchen. A combination of familiarity and Fer’s guidance allowing her to stride confidently, without fear of an unexpectedly open door or something fallen underfoot.
Likewise having arms which could see made cooking so much easier and safer. She opened the fridge and her neural connection with Fer sprung to life, a description of the contents painted across the back of her mind like an exported thought.
“Oh yes, peppers.” Jenni reached out, Fer gently directing her hand to the right spot, and testingly squeezed. “Perfect. Let’s make an omelette.”
After all, with teamwork it was a quick and easy meal.
As they chopped veggies Jenni’s mind drifted to the presentation. Her laptop was loaded with the slides, her notes, and every file she thought she might need. They’d rehearsed dozens of times. She’d review it on the trip over, mostly to reassure herself and quiet her nerves.
A mental nudge from Fer brought her back to the moment. Time to flip the omelet. The presentation was hours yet. Don’t get ahead of herself.
Their morning routine flew past, Jenni checking the clock at each step. Eat, clean up, wash up, get dressed, grab the bag which she knew was prepared but she checked its contents one last time before stepping out of the apartment.
Fer reassured her the bus was on time. And dryly observed that with the brisk walking speed she projected, they might even catch the bus before their usual. A rueful smile curved Jenni’s lips. She’d always been a stress walker. Just as well her legs were accepting of this.
They slipped headphones on while clattering down the stairs, the weight of her backpack a comforting reminder that she was prepared. She had everything she needed. It would go smashingly, she was sure.
And no matter what happened, her other half would have her back.

Prompt was “In the future, robots and humans live and work together. Create a short story about a human-machine connected life.”