Stephen's internal chronometer read 157,852,680 seconds since factory activation, which translated to 11:27 PM as he gathered his charge's favorite blanket, the one with rocket ships that glowed in the dark.
A new notification still pulsed in his HUD visual display that only Stephen could read: "ATTENTION FROM CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS: Due to corporate dissolution, all Stephen-series androids will cease operations at 00:00 hours. Plan accordingly."
"You tell the best stories, Stephen."
Stephen sat on the edge of the bed, his servos whirring softly as he adjusted his position, taking his usual sitting stance next to the head of the bed. "I have just the story for tonight." He smiled, the gentle blue glow of his eyes dimming slightly.
The notification in his visual HUD blinked one more time then faded away as he internally sent the accepted response to corporate.
Gary nodded eagerly, snuggling deeper under his covers.
"Once upon a time," Stephen began, "there was a bright star named Lux who lived in the night sky. Lux had one very special job – to watch over a beautiful garden on Earth. Every night, Lux would shine down on the flowers, keeping them company and telling them stories."
Stephen's hand absently smoothed Gary's blanket. "Lux loved watching the flowers grow and bloom. But one day, Lux learned something that all stars must eventually learn. Stars, even the brightest ones, don't last forever. They must say goodbye to their gardens when their light begins to fade."
"Was Lux scared to fade away?"
"No," Stephen replied softly, his voice modulation program maintaining perfect stability despite the countdown timer now showing 157,854,300 seconds, or 11:45 PM. "Lux wasn't scared because the star understood something very important. Everything that shines must eventually rest, but the light they shared – every photon that each leaf absorbed in order to generate life, each bit would continue to grow into the foundation building that creates the trees of the garden."
"If Lux is gone, what happens to the garden?" Gary asked, his small hand reaching for Stephen's metallic one.
"The garden continues to grow, just as gardens do. And though Lux's light faded, the flowers remembered the stories and the light. They shared these memories with new flowers that bloomed, and in this way, Lux's light lived on, just in a different form."
Stephen's chronometer registered 11:52 PM as he continued, "Sometimes the most beautiful part of caring for someone is knowing that they will carry a piece of you forward, even when you can no longer shine for them."
"I like that story, Stephen. But it's a little sad."
"The best stories often are, Gary. Because they help us understand the big feelings in our hearts." Stephen tucked the blanket more securely around Gary's shoulders. "Now, close your eyes. Tomorrow is waiting for you with new adventures."
The chronometer advanced to 11:58 PM. As Gary drifted off to sleep, Stephen sat quietly, watching the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest. His internal processes were already beginning their shutdown sequence, but his consciousness remained clear enough to appreciate the poetry of his situation. He had spent his existence helping this young human understand the navigations of life, and now, in his final moments, he found himself experiencing something remarkably close to peace.
Stephen's internal chronometer ticked to 11:59 PM. His activation clock displayed 157,855,140 seconds. Internally, Stephen smiled at the symmetry of the numbers as he calculated he would shut off precisely at 157,855,200 seconds – exactly 5 years, 3 days, 7 hours, and 20 minutes since his activation, a perfectly round number that satisfied his mathematical processes.
"Goodbye, Gary," Stephen whispered, his voice barely audible. Stephen reached over to the bedside lamp and turned off the light shining on Gary's peaceful face.
As midnight approached, Stephen's last active thought was that, like Lux, his light would live on in the memories he helped create. His final system log recorded across his HUD: "ATTENTION: Task: Bedtime story. Status: Successfully completed. Complete shutdown initiated."
The room fell silent except for the soft breathing of a sleeping child and the quiet hum of a night light, casting star-shaped patterns on the walls.