Annie’s main worktable is by the window. Each morning, when Annie comes down to work, the whole room is bathed in soft light that’s reflected across a hundred different surfaces. She likes working there; not only is the light good even in winter, it also provides a nice view of the garden.

The worktable, like everything in the room, is a mess; a half-empty tool kit sits precariously balanced on one end, while several coffee mugs with varying amounts of cold coffee are piled up on the other. Various tools are scattered across the tabletop, hidden under sheets of scrapes of metal or tangled up in wire. Copper has offered several times to help tidy up, but Annie likes the mess, and she’s always had a knack for finding things when she needs them.

Annie sits down and makes a space for her coffee, reminding herself to clear out the old ones; she’s pretty sure there’s a new species of mold growing in the blue one. Then she turns her attention to the latest project: an old AI unit she acquired through a friend of a friend. Possibly a second or third generation model. Not advanced enough to have sentience, and not worth much beyond being an antique. She studies the screws on the back casing and, finding the right screwdriver under a sheet of corrugated iron, opens it up.

It’s in surprisingly good condition, given its age. She’s pretty sure she can get it running again, once she replaces the wiring and the power source, though she isn’t sure what do with it once it’s fixed.