Resolutions 2: Setting Ground Rules

Read from the beginning of this serialized novel at “Resolutions.”

Max stood motionless in the living room, its chrome-like face reflecting the soft glow of the apartment’s recessed lighting. Tobias sat at the dining table, his tablet resting on the polished surface, his fingers tapping in quick, deliberate strokes. He granted Max access to every aspect of his and Graham’s lives—their schedules, bank accounts, and entertainment subscriptions. The butler silently processed the information, its glowing blue eyes staring off into the distance. 

Graham leaned against the kitchen counter, coffee cup in hand, his eyes flicking between Tobias and Max. His third cup of the day had long gone cold, but he clung to it anyway—a small comfort in what already felt like an unfamiliar morning. 

“Maybe we should have started with simpler resolutions,” Graham half joked, but neither Tobias nor Max seemed to hear him. 

“Let’s establish some ground rules,” Tobias said, finally setting the tablet down. His tone was clipped and managerial, as though he were addressing a junior team member at a strategy meeting. “Max, we’ll integrate you into our lives, but I want regular reports to track our progress. Can you manage that for us?” 

Max turned. Its blue eyes brightened slightly as it tilted its head in acknowledgment. “Of course, Mr. Greene. Progress reports will be generated every day at precisely 6 p.m. Would you prefer digital format, verbal summaries, or both?” 

Tobias nodded approvingly, his fingers drumming against the table’s edge. “Both. I like to cross reference.” 

“Efficient,” Max said, a faint lilt of approval in its otherwise monotone voice. 

Graham snorted from his perch by the counter. “Let me guess. You’ll cross reference them with pie charts and color-coded spreadsheets?” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Tobias said, smirking slightly. 

“I’ve got a ground rule, too,” Graham interjected, setting his coffee down with a soft clink. He crossed the room, his broad frame filled in the narrow space between the kitchen counter and the dining table. “No touching personal items without permission. That blanket?” He gestured toward the hand-knitted throw sitting on the sofa. “It stays exactly where it is. No optimizing it into a storage bin or whatever.” 

Max’s gaze shifted to the blanket, its eyes flickering briefly before returning to Graham. “Acknowledged.” 

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “You really think that needs to be a rule?” 

“Absolutely,” Graham said, crossing his arms. “Max already suggested throwing it out this morning.” 

“It was merely a suggestion for optimization,” Max clarified, its tone devoid of apology. “For some, sentimental objects are an interference. However, I will respect your preference.” 

Graham offered a small, satisfied smile. “Good.” 

Tobias sighed, running a hand through his meticulously styled hair. “Fine. Anything else?” 

“Yeah,” Graham said, his voice softening slightly. “We still have lives, you know? Max doesn’t get to run the show completely.” 

Max’s gaze settled on Graham, the intensity of its glowing eyes subtly shifting to a more muted shade of blue. “Mr. Greene, I am here to serve, not to dominate,” it said. “However, my programming is designed to prioritize achievement and self improvement. I will recommend adjustments if certain preferences conflict with your stated goals.” 

“See?” Tobias said. “Recommendations for adjustments.” 

Graham stared at Max for a long moment, his jaw tightening. “That’s… not ominous at all.” 

Tobias shot Graham a warning look. “Graham, come on. This is what we agreed to. We made resolutions, and Max is here to help us follow through.” 

“I know,” Graham said, returning to the counter where his coffee sat untouched. “I’m just saying nobody achieves their New Year’s resolutions in a day. There’s no rush. Let’s not go overboard all at once, okay?” 

Tobias gave a distracted nod, already picking up his tablet again. Graham turned away, hiding the flicker of concern that knitted his brows. 

Once the setup and integrations were complete, Max began its work. Its movements were eerily smooth as it surveyed the apartment, collecting data with a series of quiet whirs and clicks. Graham watched from the kitchen as the robot methodically adjusted their surroundings. He had to admit it was efficient—almost hypnotically so—but the way it moved unnerved him. 

“Mr. Greene,” Max called from the bedroom, its voice even and precise. “May I have your attention?” 

Tobias set the tablet down and stood. Graham placed a playful hand on his chest, halting him. 

“Hey, ‘Mr. Greene,’” he chided, “What makes you so sure it’s talking to you?” 

Tobias grinned. “Good point. Let’s get that sorted out right now.” 

Graham trailed behind Todd’s soft footsteps, more curious than willing. “Not very efficient to call us both by the same name, is it? Hope you kept the receipt for that bucket of bolts.” 

In the bedroom, Max stood by Tobias’ closet, its chrome fingers carefully sliding hangers aside. “Mr. Greene, your wardrobe—” 

“Hang on a second, Max,” Graham interrupted. “There are two Mr. Greenes in this house. How about you just call us by our first names?” 

Max glanced back and forth at Graham and Tobias, registering Graham’s words. “Preference registered,” it said after a moment. “Thank you, Graham. Tobias, your wardrobe is already highly optimized. However, I suggest replacing older pieces with updated cuts for a sharper silhouette.” 

Tobias stepped forward, pulling out a navy blazer. He ran his hand along the fabric, inspecting it critically. “You’re right, Max,” he said, holding it to the light. “This one’s overdue for an upgrade.” 

From behind him, Graham’s voice cut in, light but firm. “Another rule. No throwing things out without talking to both of us first.” 

Tobias glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just a blazer.” 

“That’s how it starts,” Graham said, crossing his arms. “You bought that blazer when you got promoted.” 

Max turned its gaze toward Graham’s side of the closet, where an eclectic collection of sweaters, jackets, and scarves overfilled the space. The contrast between Tobias’ meticulously tailored suits and Graham’s mismatched collection was almost comical. 

“Graham, your wardrobe could benefit from standardization,” Max remarked. 

Graham laughed, the sound sharp and incredulous. “Standardization? What am I, a mannequin?” 

“Let him keep his scarves, “Max,” Tobias said, suppressing a grin. “They’re cute.” 

“As you wish,” Max replied, stepping back from the closet with a faint whir of its servos. 

The first real test of Max’s capabilities came later that afternoon. Tobias had planned a grocery run—a weekly tradition that usually involved a leisurely walk to the nearby market where they’d debate dinner options and the best methods for spotting the freshest produce. 

“Unnecessary,” Max declared when Tobias mentioned it. “I have already analyzed your consumption habits and placed an order. The groceries will arrive in 30 minutes.” 

Tobias blinked, momentarily surprised. “That’s… efficient,” he said, nodding. 

“But we like going to the market,” Graham said, his tone more defensive than intended. 

“Tobias’ New Year’s resolution is to be more efficient and eliminate wasted time,” Max replied smoothly. “Efficiency outweighs tradition. But if you desire, I can simulate the experience with recommendations for meal choices as you unpack the groceries.”  

Graham stared at the robot, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You can’t simulate a butcher cracking lame jokes while he wraps up your steaks, Max.” 

Tobias placed a hand on Graham’s shoulder, a calming gesture that felt slightly rehearsed. “Let’s give it a try, all right? We wanted this.” 

“Yeah. We,” Graham muttered under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. 

By evening, the apartment had already been transformed in subtle but noticeable ways. Max had rearranged the kitchen for “ergonomic priorities,” moving frequently used items within arm’s reach and relegating Graham’s ceramic mugs to a cabinet. Tobias seemed energized by the changes, experimenting with a recipe Max had suggested. Graham, however, wandered through the apartment, his movements slow and deliberate as he took in the changes. 

The blanket remained on the sofa, a small victory Graham clung to, but everything else felt different. The ceramic mugs, with their hodgepodge of colors and imperfect glazes, had been replaced on the counter by sleek, uniform glass tumblers. Even the spice rack, once a chaotic array of mismatched jars, was now a perfectly aligned row of labeled containers. 

Graham picked up one of the tumblers and turned it in his hands. It was smooth, functional, and utterly devoid of charm. 

“Something wrong?” Tobias asked, glancing up from the stove. 

“Nothing,” Graham said, setting the tumbler town. “Just… getting used to the new setup.” 

By the end of the night, Tobias and Graham sat side by side on the sofa, the apartment eerily quiet around them. Tobias scrolled through Max’s efficiency report on his tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration. Graham idly ran his fingers over the hand-knitted blanket draped across his lap, the familiar texture grounding him in a way nothing else could. 

“This was a great first day,” Tobias said. Graham knew he was talking to Max and not to him. 

“Day one has been productive,” Max said. “I project further gains in efficiency as integration deepens.” 

“Integration,” Graham repeated, his tone tinged with skepticism. He glanced at Tobias, who was still engrossed in the tablet. “Let’s not forget who’s running this household, yeah?” 

“Of course, Graham,” Max replied. “I am here to serve.” 

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