I woke up late. Sweet sleep still held me in its soft embrace, but a ray of sun, breaking through the curtains, mercilessly blinded my eyes. I winced and stretched, feeling how sleepy laziness was paralyzing my body.
"Mmm," burst out of me when I finally got out of bed.
Yesterday came back to me, and with it, what was lying on the table. Coming closer, I saw a neatly folded wad of money. Large bills, still smelling of printer's ink.
They burned my hands.
I took them, turning them over in my fingers. Soft paper, the weight of wealth, and an unpleasant feeling inside. The money wasn't mine. Well, technically it was mine, but... a friend had given it to me yesterday, asking me to "just hold it." No explanation, nothing extra, just his quick glance and one word:
"Take it."
Now I sat there, looking at them, wondering: what should I do? Take them back? Hide them? Or... spend them? After all, I always dreamed of a new laptop or a trip somewhere far away.
But these thoughts were interrupted by a slight pang of conscience. Money is a strange thing. It can give freedom, but in return it takes away peace.
I reached out again, but now with a different mindset. A villa abroad... That was my new plan. A dream. To get away, leave everything behind, not think about everyday worries and immerse myself in an atmosphere of solitude. But where to go?
I went through several countries in my head: the warm beaches of Thailand, the mountains of Switzerland, the noisy streets of New York... But then, as if by a click, the thought came - Canada. Vast forests, lakes, fresh air and complete solitude. This was what I was looking for.
I started looking for villas on rental websites. Cozy little houses with huge windows overlooking endless expanses and quiet lakes. I remembered seeing photos of such places on the internet once - snowy mountains on the horizon, foggy forests, and only nature and silence all around.
I chose one villa, not far from Vancouver. Its description sounded like a dream: a stylish wooden house with a fireplace, several bedrooms, a kitchen with views of the lake, a large terrace and even a small outdoor sauna.
I wanted to be there right now. To stretch out on a soft sofa, watch the sunset and forget about everything. I felt how the money in my hands became more than just numbers on a screen - they became a ticket to a new life, a new adventure.
Far, far away... Canadian villa, I can almost see you. I dialed the number listed on her website with excitement. The beeps continued endlessly until finally a voice was heard. But it was strange - flat, emotionless, as if a machine was speaking:
"Welcome to the elite villa network. How can I help you?"
"Uh, hello. I'm looking to book a lake villa outside of Vancouver," I said, trying to sound confident.
"Excellent choice. The villa is available. Please provide your name, contact details and payment method."
The voice was too soulless. I realized that I was not talking to a person, but to a robot assistant. My enthusiasm faded a little, but I decided to go all the way.
"Um, okay, here's my details," I dictated everything that was required.
"Thank you for your request. Payment confirmed. We expect you at the villa tomorrow at three."
"Wait, will there be people there?" I blurted out.
"We do not have staff in the traditional sense. Our villas are fully automated. Your vacation will be provided by our intelligent systems: from cleaning to cooking."
Robots. All robots. There wasn't even anyone to shake hands with or ask for a recommendation for the best local wine.
"Tell me about the local attractions," I said into the phone, deciding to distract myself from the strange feeling that the villa was serviced exclusively by cars.
"The following interesting places are located in your area: Garibaldi National Park, Shannon Falls, and the famous lookout point - so famous that its name is not worth mentioning. You can use our automatic transfer to visit these places."
The robot's voice was as even as before, without a hint of enthusiasm.
"And tell me, with whom will I have to share the villa?" I asked, realizing that I had forgotten to clarify an important point.
The robot paused briefly, as if considering its answer, although it was probably just looking for data.
"Your neighbors will be Mr. and Mrs. Donowho. He and she."
"Who are these?" I asked in surprise.
"I can only say that they are newlyweds."
"Newlyweds?" I asked again, trying to imagine what kind of couple would be moving in with me under the same roof. "Hmm, won't I bother them?"
"No, because half of the villa is rented out. The entire second floor will belong exclusively to you."
I thought about it. Newlyweds, then. Probably romantic walks on the terrace, evenings by the fireplace, and I would be watching all this splendor from above. On the one hand, the idea seemed a little awkward to me. On the other, a second floor with complete isolation sounded good.
"Okay," I replied, already starting to come up with scenarios in my head on how to avoid crossing paths with Mr. and Mrs. Donowho. "I hope we become friends... or, even better, don't cross paths at all."
The robot didn't respond to this. It just wished me a pleasant journey and hung up.
After I hung up, I thought. There was more to this than just a vacation. This was a chance... A chance to reset. A plan was beginning to form in my head.
First things first: books. Lots of books. How long have I been putting off reading? Five years for sure. And now, in the privacy of my Canadian villa, I can immerse myself in a whole world of knowledge. I googled several lists: classics, modern literature, popular science. I decided that I needed to broaden my horizons.
Then I remembered about magazines. As a child, I dreamed of subscribing to scientific publications - something about sociology, physics, maybe biology. I doubt I'll understand everything the first time, but scientists have probably made a ton of discoveries in the last hundred years, and it'll be damn interesting.
But books are one thing. I still need to stretch, get in shape. That means sports gear: dumbbells, a yoga mat, maybe some resistance bands. The villa should be spacious, there should be enough space. I imagined myself in silence, on the terrace, stretching with a view of the lake.
Oh yeah, the suit. How could I forget? Not a dinner jacket, of course, but something stylish. If the newlyweds Donowho decide to drop by my second floor or we cross paths on the common terrace, I need to look decent.
The list in my head was getting longer and longer, and I felt excitement igniting inside. Tomorrow a new life would begin, but for now I needed to get myself together.
Soon, having sorted out all my problems, I was already there. My car stopped smoothly in front of a huge wooden house with panoramic windows overlooking the lake. On the perfectly trimmed lawn, an orange and white robot with rounded shapes was waiting. It resembled a mixture of a vacuum cleaner and a friendly toy droid.
I got out of the car, barely containing my smile.
"Welcome to our villa," the robot said in a pleasant voice.
Suddenly, his white belly began to glow, and the sounds of a transparent melody were heard. It seemed as if a real music box was hidden inside him, playing something tender and touching.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"What a reception! Is this your standard way of charming guests?"
The robot bowed slightly, or so it seemed to me.
"The welcome program is activated. We are glad that you have chosen our villa. I am your assistant."
"Nice to meet you," I said, opening the trunk. "Can you help me with my things?"
"Of course, this is my direct responsibility."
The robot nimbly pulled up to the car, and its hidden manipulators extended. I, still laughing, grabbed the book bag while it grabbed the suitcase. Despite its small size, the robot was surprisingly strong.
"Are you on protein?" I joked, watching him deftly balance my bulky duffel bag.
"No, but I can help you create a diet plan if needed," the robot replied calmly, making me laugh even louder.
When we entered the house, the robot led me to a spacious hall with high ceilings, where there was an unusual silence, broken only by the light hum of the robots. I noticed that everything was perfect here - from the glass doors to the built-in panels and minimalist furniture.
"Will you be having lunch in your room or in the dining room?" the robot asked, moving alongside.
I thought, somehow automatically running my hand along the side table where there was a vase of flowers. Everything here seemed perfect, even too perfect.
"Am I dining alone?" I turned to the robot, waiting for his answer.
"Yes, your neighbors are coming tomorrow. You will be resting on the second floor, your area is completely isolated," the robot said, as if it was ordinary information.
"Then in the dining room," I answered, smiling.
It seemed like the right decision. New experiences, new life, new food... Everything in this house was like a movie about the future, where robots not only do the work, but also create the atmosphere. I was ready to dive into this strange but attractive world.
"Excellent," said the robot, leading me to the doors that led into a spacious dining room with high windows through which light penetrated the room, filling it with warmth and comfort.
I felt my appetite begin to grow. The robot approached the table and carefully laid out the menu in front of me, its screen glowing softly, offering a variety of dishes: from exotic salads to exquisite desserts. It all looked impeccable, like in a restaurant where every ingredient is thought out to the smallest detail.
"Here is your menu," he said in the same calm but polite tone.
I glanced at the screen, but immediately felt how at some point all this sophistication began to weigh on me. It was all too formal, and I couldn't shake the thought that for me now the main thing was not taste, but the feeling of freedom from routine.
"No, no," I said, pushing the menu aside. "Whatever. Just something simple to fill me up. Doesn't matter what."
The robot was silent for a moment, as if digesting my answer. Then its screen flickered and it said:
"Got it. I'll choose a neutral dish for you, taking into account your preferences."
A minute later, a plate with something simple but delicious appeared on the table: baked potatoes, a light salad with greens and chicken fillet. Everything was served with such care that it looked almost like art, but at the same time, it was exactly what I needed at that moment.
After I ate, a feeling of lightness immediately came over me. The dinner was simple but delicious, and it became clear to me that the holiday at this villa would be as I imagined it - without unnecessary worries, calmly and without unnecessary fuss.
I stood up from the table, thanked the robot and headed for the stairs. There was no noise in the house, only the slight hum of the ventilation and the silence around. It was as if this house was designed to absorb everything around it and create an atmosphere of complete peace.
Having climbed up to the second floor, I approached my bedroom. A spacious room, large windows, from which a magnificent view of the lake opened up. Everything was like in dreams - a soft bed, a minimalist style, dark wooden panels, and even a fresh smell, as if no one lived here except me.
I settled down on my bed, enjoying the moment. I had a purpose, I suppose - to read, to study, to relax… but now I just wanted to enjoy this silence and the feeling that I could finally be alone. Alone, but not lonely.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to simply rest.
The dawn softly painted the walls of my room, and I, dead tired, fell on the bed. The light morning sun glided through the windows, turning the room into something mystical, as if I were in another world. I froze in this moment, completely detached from everything.
With every breath, with every feeling of the soft mattress, I tried to comprehend what had happened. This wasn't just a trip - it was something more. Everything I had experienced that day, these hours, this strange experience with robots, the villa, the money… Finally, I was here, in complete silence, in my own corner of the world.
I acted like this moment was earned. I had a whole bunch of money in my hands, and I spent it the way I wanted. Not for anyone, not for anything. Just for myself. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had done something that was truly mine, that wasn't dependent on other people's opinions and expectations.
I smiled, closing my eyes. It all seemed so right and complete that I could calmly allow myself this rest. Without obligations, without thoughts about the future, just me and this new world that I had created for myself.
I was awakened by a soft sound, as if someone was gently knocking on the door. I opened my eyes to see a robot in the room, holding a tray with breakfast. It was about one o'clock, and everything around me still seemed a little ghostly - this strange but attractive world of the villa, where reality intertwined with technology.
The robot, reserved as always, approached me and placed the tray on the nightstand. I blinked in confusion, trying to remember how much time had passed since I fell asleep last night. But, as always in such moments, time seemed to stand still.
"Good morning," he said without changing his intonation. "Your breakfast."
I nodded, but I wasn't quite ready to talk yet. My gaze fell on the book that was lying on the bed next to the pillow. On its cover was written: "Lem Stanislaw. Return from the Stars."
I had put it down last night without even starting to read it, but now, as if by instinct, I reached out and felt for it in the semi-darkness. My head was still ringing with the last thoughts about money and what I had just experienced.
Opening the first page, I plunged into the fantastic world of Stanislaw Lem, forgetting about the robot, breakfast and time in general. A strange confusion began inside me: on the one hand, I was here, in this Canadian villa for the rich, surrounded by serene luxury, and on the other, a world full of absurd and philosophical searches for meaning, humanity and the future opened up before me. All these scientific hypotheses and reflections on man, his place in the world and relations with machines seemed like something alive that could exist in the same world where I was now, but only in a parallel reality.
I looked at the pages and caught myself thinking about how strangely these two worlds combined - the one described in the book by the great Pole, and this one in which I suddenly found myself, as if by chance. I thought about how quickly technology can change human nature and how in Lem's world robots and machines raise questions that have long tormented me. And although I knew that Lem was just an Eastern Bloc fantasy (Dick would not let me lie), the words in the book I was now reading rang like truth, a reflection of what I myself was experiencing.
I was so absorbed in the book that I hardly noticed how dark it had become. When the robot re-entered the room, his voice interrupted my reading.
"You must have supper," he said reproachfully, his gentle tone leaving no room for objection. "Otherwise you will become weak. Besides, it is not advisable to read before dawn. You know that? Doctors speak highly disapprovingly of it."
I looked up from the page, a little surprised by his attention to my condition.
"I know, but how do you know?" I asked, closing the book.
I immediately thought about how in this house full of robots and technology there is something almost human - attention, care.
"It is my duty," the robot answered without a shadow of hesitation.
He handed me a tray of dinner as if he had no doubts about his role. It contained fresh vegetables, fish with lemon, a light dessert, and a drink I didn't immediately recognize.
"I'll try to improve," I promised, gratefully accepting the tray.
In fact, I was indeed hungry, but in this house time seemed to lose its meaning.
"I hope you don't think I'm being tactless? I wouldn't like to seem intrusive," he said with a slight touch of artificial ethics.
"What are you saying," I said with a smile, "it's all right. You're not too pushy, just caring. That's good."
I took the spoon, feeling everything around me become unusually comfortable, as if this house and its robot inhabitants were actually trying to create an atmosphere of care, even if it was a little artificial. But, strangely enough, I liked it.
"Listen," I said to the robot who was standing nearby, waiting for commands. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"I am at your service," he replied, without expressing the slightest doubt about his purpose.
"Do you have some time? Play me that little tune from yesterday, okay?" I said, smiling, because this gentle and strangely calming sound literally enchanted me.
"With pleasure," the robot answered without hesitation, and his white belly lit up again, and from it came those same cheerful, but at the same time soothing sounds, reminiscent of the melody of a music box.
Enjoying this viscous atmosphere of calm, I took a cup of coffee. It was hot and strong, just the way I liked it. I drank it quickly, feeling my body relax from this simple pleasure. The whole day, during its imperceptible running after sensations, now seemed alien to me.
As soon as the robot finished the melody, I thanked it and felt how tiredness was rolling over me with renewed vigor. At that moment, there were no thoughts, no worries. There was only relaxation and a feeling that time was slowing down. As soon as the robot left, I closed my eyes, and without having time to think about anything important, I instantly fell asleep.