I walked in just like my master told me. Walk in. Don’t make any eye contact with anyone. Order. Pay. Leave. It was a simple task even for me. I could do it blindfolded. Well considering my eyes would actually see through whatever fabric that was used, I don’t think it would count.

Walk in. Check. I started to make my way to the counter and as soon as the barista saw me she stiffened and tried to cover it up but my right eye already detected the spike in her blood pressure and the increase in her heart beat. Inwardly sighing I blinked, which is completely unnecessary for me, and turns out was a huge mistake. A voice makes my eyes fly open and almost in slow motion I see a girl clumsily tripping on her own loose shoelace. Instinctively I race over at inhuman speed and catch her and her drink perfectly. Too perfectly and as I help her get steady on her feet I mentally curse myself for exposing my identity. She simply looks at me and blushes with a small smile.

“Thank you.” She bows 90 degrees and for a moment I’m stunned. My super mind is racing trying to comprehend what’s going on. This is not the appropriate-no wrong word-expected reaction. My eyes lock on hers and I hand her drink to her. She giggles and I realize my mistake, I forgot to smile. I forgot to say “you’re welcome” or another proper response to her gratitude. I try to make my face smile but my lip only twitches on one side. She has stopped giggling and turns to the barista, who is giving her an incredulous look usually signaling disbelief, horror-wait what are they conversing about?

“I said his drink is on me.” She stated again as if it was the simplest words not even looking at the barista. Instead she places her coffee on the counter and was casually rummaging through her bag until she finally pulls out a wallet. Then she turns to me and as if it was the most normal thing to do,  and asks what my order is. The barista-name tag says Meili. Noted- looks back and forth between us perplexed by the interaction of this girl and I.

“Mocha, kid temperature.” I answer in a monotone voice. She blinks a few times and her eyes flicker as she thinks.

“And for you?” She looks back at me. My brain tried to compute her words as I continued to stare at her blankly. After several moments of silence she turns back to the barista and orders ‘One mocha, kids’ temperature and another chocolate caramel expresso, no whipped cream, please.’ Her sentence was so smooth, I couldn’t help but wonder how her mind processed information so rapidly and precisely. Why was it my mind couldn’t comprehend an order for myself, yet she was able to instantly decide what to get? Meili was working on the drinks and as I scanned her I noticed her heart rate had slowed down as well as the drop of her blood pressure. Whatever magic this girl was, she was able to reverse the effect I had on average humans. Was she a cyborg? I opted to scan her brainwaves to see if she was a fellow machine or not. Right when I scanned and discovered readings of human brain activity she started to speak to me once more.

“I’m Tamara by the way.” She smiled softly. I forced myself to blink so that I would seem more natural. I then wiped my hands on my side-a habit I had observed in human before they shook hands. I had concluded in my observations that this was due an emotional response triggering the fight-flight region in the brain and thus causing multiple symptoms, such as sweaty palms. I have no such sweat glands so this part of humans has no relation to me, but my master had forced me into habits like these so I could blend into society better.

“I am called T.O.P. It is my honor to meet you.” I shake her hand, mindful of squeezing her hand too tight and she gives me a small laugh in response. “I do not understand. Why do you laugh?” I ask confused.

“You.” She smiles as she points at me. She stayed in that position for 5.634 seconds before Meili announced the beverages were completed. Another .43 seconds for her to process the information and then 2 seconds to turn and grab them, handing one for me to hold, while she held two.

“How much time before you have to go back T.O.P-ssi?” She questions as she walks off. I glance at the clock that reads 5:23 PM. It was wrong, the actual time is 5:24:34. 35. 36. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. My master told me-suggested she would argue- to return promptly around 6pm.

“I am not due home until 6:00:00 PM.” I inform her. I sense her heart beat pick up. Slight cheek movement, a slight bounce to her step. Conclusion: she was pleased with something that was said. She arrives at a table near the door, sits down and smiles at me, motioning to take the seat across from her.

“Wonderful. Shall we chat in the meantime?” She grins up at me from the seat. I studied her posture-not the best, probably spent hours on electronics- and mentally shook my thoughts away to focus again. Chat-Processing-Talk about, discuss. I nod my head and sit promptly in the seat across from her.

“I shall chat with you.” I state, my mouth moving over the foreign word. She just smiles and indicates back.

“How was your day Top-ssi?”