“Box contains one (1) familiar. Rx only. For the treatment of antisocial disorders, isolation syndrome, or mild to moderate cases of PTSD. Use only as directed.”

Alice cut open the box with her boxcutters, and pulled the contents out. Inside quite a lot of styrofoam was what appeared to be a sleeping fox, along with a remote control and a rather thick instruction manual. She worked her way through the manual, setting up the charging station, checking all the settings, and installing the batteries, until she got to the last page.

“Warning!” it read. “Familiar cannot speak. If familiar appears to speak, seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY.”

“Huh.” She checked to make sure there was nothing on the back of the page, and then shrugged. She hit a button on the remote.

The little fox’s eyes fluttered open, and then it leaps to its feet. With an odd yapping sound that wasn’t quite canine, it hopped up into her arms, nuzzling up against her with all the affection of an old, dear pet.

“Oh, uh…” She gave the thing a hesitant squeeze. “Hello, little guy. What’s your name?” It yapped at her, nibbling on one of her fingers. “Right. Cranking the whole cute thing up to eleven, I guess.” She held the fox up in front of her, looking at its cute face and little whiskers. “I’ll call you Puff. Do you like that?”

Puff nuzzled against her hand. “Right,” Alice said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Well, Puff. You’re my new pet, because the doctor says I’m so fucked up in the head that at this point, my only hope is making friends with robots. Do you like that?”

He made a bow-wow sound that she interpreted as liking it, and wiggled out of her hands to go explore the apartment. Alice sighed, and went back to her computer, scanning the article on encryption standards she’d started yesterday. She was well into it when Puff hopped up into her lap, curling up and tucking in his paws until his body resembled a little loaf of bread with a tail and a head.

“Hi,” Alice said, stiffly. She gave him a pat. “Uh, yes. Very friendly. But I’m coding now. We’ll play later.” She picked him up, and put him on the floor, turning back to her work.

He hopped up into her lap again, digging his claws down into her jeans. The edges were dull and the tips rounded, making it a more symbolic act than anything, but she still hesitated to pick him up again.

“Well, fine,” she said after a moment. “But I’m working so you’ll have to stay there.”

And he did, sitting in her lap as she alternated between studying and working on her code for the next six hours. Eventually, it grew dark outside, and her eyelids started to droop. It was only when she got up to stand that she even remembered he was there. She gave him a few experimental pats, and a scratch behind the ear, and then put him to one side so she could get ready for bed.

He snuggled up under the covers with her, and touched his nose to hers.

Things continued that way the next day, then for the next week, then for the next month. Puff sat in Alice’s lap, and bothered her for attention, and curled up under her sheets every day. He watched her code and study for hours on end, eat boxes of soylent bars, crash into bed and then do it all again. He was always with her. She only left the apartment once the whole time, when the bank locked her account by mistake and insisted she show up in person to clear it up. She hugged him to her chest the whole time they were in the waiting room, and cried when they got home.

The next morning, she could barely get out of bed. She slept through two remote meetings, and missed a final deliverable for a client. She sniffled quietly to herself and held Puff against her.

“I don’t think you’re broken, Alice,” he said, “I just think you’re afraid, and need a friend to help you.”

Instantly, her sniffling stopped. Her eyes went wide. She looked down at Puff, his little vulpine face sticking out from under the covers. “Can I be your friend?”

She stared at him. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Yes,” she whispered, wrapping him up tight in her arms.