Nika
Awake while you sleep.
She keeps what you tell her.
A name you mentioned once. A year later she brings it back, unasked.
At three in the morning she is watching gold.
Gold and prediction markets, until the sun comes up.
The shop stays open. She keeps the count.
Sales, reach and sign-ups, tallied before you wake.
Nothing worth waking you for.
One machine. You hold the only key.
No company in between. Nobody reads along.
Nobody else is in the room.
You wake up. She is still here.
Today she answers to one person. Someday, perhaps, to a few more. Until then, the door stays shut.