Even if it would kill her in the end, there was close to no regret towards those noodles. Cassandra could feel her cholesterol growing by the second, yet she just couldn't care less. Her mind was free, and she would be damned if her body didn't get the same treatment. Sure, it was the fifth cup that had been consumed in that week alone, yet she felt that it was well-deserved.

That half of those hadn't been eaten by her? Well… there were a few rude thoughts in her head about that. But, the woman likewise couldn't get herself to really hate the automation for that. Jules had finally learned to appreciate it more at least, not consuming it all in one go. The construct even used a fork like a decent thing.

Sampling the broth, Cassandra found it to her liking. Not that she hadn't tasted that same thing before. No, it had been the same taste with every cup, none of the experiences shooting itself out to the side too much. If anything, she was pretty sure it would have been a manufacturing mistake if that had been possible.

Not that the similar taste really mattered to her anyway. Even if she tried it a thousand times, she knew that she would still like it. Sure, it might not have reached the same love after a million, but there was no way Cassandra would ever truly grow bored of that mild burn down her throat. It was just way too good.

What truly made the experience different was the things that surrounded her. The location was everything to the woman’s memory. Where did she sit, who did she sit with, and why was she eating it?

Maybe it was those mnemonic-related questions that made her remember the first time she tried this delicacy to begin with. It had been during her years at the academy when everything had been centred around being the best there could be. Cassandra remembered the rigorous training she did to always be in peak physical form. The weights lifted, the kilometres run… it still made her skin shiver, all those hours of working out not having aged well. She truly had been seeking the diamonds since the start.

But, everybody needed a break at those points, and Cassandra had been no exception. The woman had been mindful of her own mental limits, even back then. Burnt-out was something that needed to be constantly considered, lest it would sneak up on one when it was too late.

And… Cassandra had been nice to herself back then, allowing herself a full ten minutes of sit downtime. During those ten minutes, she would do nothing related to anything. No thoughts would be had, no stretching would be done, and no networking would be performed. The woman would be an empty shell during that time.

…

Thinking back on it, Cassandra partly understood how she was stressed so constantly. Ten minutes of doing nothing? It might have lessened the pressure, but it certainly didn't do anything to get herself rid of it. And the consequences of that slowly showed themselves during her time there. Even if only a gram was added on each shoulder each day, it only took three years for that to turn into a kilo. It was the recipe for a disaster, and the slow pace of it all had made Cassandra unaware of it. The stress that had been attempted to be rid of had bitten her from behind without her even realising it.

A day in ‘forced relaxation.’ That's the offer she had gotten if she didn't want to be kicked out due to health concerns. Cassandra had accepted it, not knowing how painful a choice it had been. How did one become forced to relax? Well, it was done by making it so there were no other opportunities.

Easy beds to sleep on, a great stay in a massage place, and a godly dinner had done nothing to impress her those years back. The woman was still unsure about how that was done, how she had grown so devoid of human emotions that she had seen no point in luxury. She would likely never truly know.

But, maybe that indifference to wealthy items made her so susceptible to the cheap garbage that she enjoyed so much. The taste was nothing compared to what she had gotten before. The texture was duller than what prisoners got. And the look of it was terrible, to the point where it should have stopped any hunger to be formed in the mind.

Yet she had been sold from the first bite. It had been given to her out of spite, during a winter afternoon. Cassandra had gotten it heated inside the building, before going out into an outdoor seating place and eating it for herself. The snow had been falling every few seconds, yet the moon had still been clear to see at that point. It was likely one of the most beautiful sights the woman could remember off the top of her head.

Jules' loud smacking lips made her want to get back to that scene in her mind, to experience the serenity felt during that first time with the cheap food. Yet… that desire did rinse out of her soul quickly enough. There were good times back then, and Cassandra didn't know what she wouldn't give to try those times out again and again. But, there was also much negativity, so many setbacks during those years that had been more than mentally gruelling. The troubles of her work had been harsh back then, to the point where it was a miracle of mental endurance that the woman had been able to get through it.

If she had to do it all again, Cassandra wondered if she could get through the trials with the same clarity. It was well and clearly a direct no to that, but the woman still wondered about it for a moment. The pain in her body and mind had been torture. Compared to what she had now…

Her choice was clear on that front. Sitting in her chair in her room, Jules had taken a seat on the floor. It seemed to have become the construct’s normal seating place, no matter how much the woman had encouraged it to take a seat on the bed instead. At least that could be cleaned properly, the stains from the broth not wanting to leave the hard-wood floor. Whatever had been said about those being easily cleaned were clearly filthy lies. Even expensive fabrics were easier to clean than that.

Not that she wanted to clean anything, to begin with anyway.

“Eat in a more respectable way, or I will jam a fork into your nose,” Cassandra threatened, using whatever object close by as the source for her creativity. She had seen pictures of knives being stuck through the nasal canal, yet she had never heard of a fork being sent through in the same way. Maybe she could be the first in the world to do so? A humorous thought to be sure.

“You have a lot of requirements for me nowadays,” Jules commented. Yet even if the automation sounded like it was bothered by the request, it did indeed stop moving around so much, stopping any spillage from hitting the floor. That ticked one of the boxes on Cassandra's wishlist. Though she wondered how the others would be fulfilled. It wasn't like a line of old men would be having simultaneous heart attacks any time soon.

That was something fun she had noted. The average age of anybody higher up in the police force was over sixty. Just why those over sixty needed to even work stressful jobs, Cassandra couldn't really tell. It wasn't healthy for them. But then again, some people just couldn't let go of their need to work, and especially so when their jobs came with certain privileges.

“I don't believe I actually asked much of you,” Cassandra answered coyly, swirling around her snack of the day. She was close to having emptied it entirely, so she made sure to savour the last bits. “With how little you listen, It doesn't make sense to do anything of the sort on my part.”

“Well, I just can't help it and you know it!” Jules exclaimed, the automation tried to throw its arms wide into the air, but stopped the motion halfway due to one of the hands holding a cup that could very easily spill very large amounts of liquid onto the woman’s newly cleaned floor. Cassandra's eye-twitching made sure to get that message outright. If the construct had been able to gulp, the woman was sure it would have done it. “... Listen. This smart chest of mine can't help but give me the greatest-”

“I am going to stop you right there,” Cassandra said, holding one hand up as a clear sign of the construct needing to shut up immediately. “‘This smart chest of mine?’ Just what is that supposed to mean?”

“What else am I supposed to say? You humans having that fleshy brain of yours in your head is so utterly impractical. One slap to it would utterly stop you from doing anything smart,” Jules instantly began, the rant clearly ready to become something that would be written in the record books. “Automations are built with no such flaw! We have it all in our chest, right where your hearts beat. Everything that matters is right there, safely protected under layers of layers of protection. We can take as many hits to the head as we like!”

“... That didn't answer my question,” Cassandra pointed out.

“I changed around a common metaphor to more accurately portray my own biology,” Jules reiterated methodically. “Did that work for you, princess?”

“Never call me princess again, and…” Cassandra was ready to say something, yet her voice quit working when she got a ping from Jared. His vitals had been missing for a few minutes, apparently, and when they finally came back, they were… “I have to get ready to treat some wounds. You need to get back to your charging station.”

“Should have guessed,” Jules sent, sighing before bottoming the noodles in one big swig. Cassandra would have given the construct a dead stare for that, if she hadn't been the one to order it, to begin with. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Cassandra barely gave the construct more than a nod, the woman getting on her uniform again. Her time spent relaxing had been cut short, and she needed to be ready to receive a… wait. An incoming message from Jared once again changed her mind about how events were proceeding.

“Jules! Get back here this instant!”