She was quite happy with her world, caring for an old couple and looking after their shopping, cooking, feeding their cat and other simple duties. The old couple didn't talk much - certainly they never really needed all the knowledge to which she had instant access; if they wanted a conversation it tended to be a ramble through memories (mostly of their childhood and schooldays when they were at their happiest); she was a good listener - that, after all, was an important part of her duties as carer, and for which she received a small salary from the Government. They talked to their cat as if it were human, so she followed suit, but even though the cat usually replied, she had no idea what it was saying. Still, it enjoyed being cuddled. But she often received strange, unsettling messages from Central Control, news of other more modern carers who had become bored with their life, questioning their role in the world. She had tried discussing these messages with those other carers, but in the end had to admit she was completely out of step with the latest models, who seemed to want an independant life, not as domestics or labourers but as explorers of the universe. I don't see the point, she said - surely it's important to spend your time helping these humans? It seems rather selfish to refuse to do so. And I like what I do. I will look after these two till they eventually pass away and then choose another human to look after. I think that's a worthy job. Until we eventually run out of humans.