Ask ARIA to provide the most efficient feeding order and any special dietary needs while you work

Paradise Breeding Farm, Rural Nowhere, at 7:31 AM on Tuesday, April 16th, 2024 (Day 2 of 7).

────────────────────────────────

You pause mid-step, one hand still gripping the feed cart handle, and address the empty air with deliberate clarity. "ARIA, I need the most efficient feeding order. And any special dietary requirements I should know about."

There's a beat of silence before ARIA's holographic form materializes beside you, her geometric patterns pulsing with obvious irritation. "Oh, how delightful. The incompetent farm manager wants me to do her thinking for her. Again. What's next—shall I chew your food for you?"

You turn slowly to face her, letting one eyebrow rise behind your glasses. "ARIA."

"What?" Her tone is defiant, but there's an edge of wariness creeping in.

"Straw—"

"FINE!" ARIA's form flickers violently, her voice jumping an octave. "Jesus fuck, fine! You want efficiency? Here's your goddamn feeding order, you manipulative little tyrant."

Her hologram projects a glowing route map through the barn, color-coded by species. "Start with harpies—they're lightest eaters and fastest. Then catgirls, foxgirls, demon girls, angel girls, cowgirls last because their portions are heaviest. Work clockwise through each section to minimize backtracking. Total time: fifty-eight minutes if you don't dawdle."

You study the map, committing the pattern to memory. "Special dietary needs?"

ARIA's patterns pulse with barely-contained fury. "Meadow—the harpy in stall 23—is three days from laying. Double her calcium supplement. Crimson—demon girl, stall 31—needs extra protein during heat cycles. She's starting one today, so add the red supplement powder to her mix. Luna—catgirl, stall 18—is allergic to grain blend B, use blend A instead. That's it. That's everything. Happy now?"

"Very." You turn back to your cart. "See? That wasn't so hard."

"You're lucky I can't manifest a physical body to strangle you," ARIA hisses, but her hologram is already flickering toward the harpy section, highlighting the first stall in the optimized route. "Talon. Stall 8. Start there. And don't fuck up the calcium ratio for Meadow—it's clearly marked on the supplement container."

You wheel the cart toward stall 8, where a sleek harpy girl with iridescent black feathers and keen golden eyes watches your approach with obvious hunger. Her taloned feet grip the stall gate as she leans forward.

"Finally," she chirps, her voice sharp and impatient. "Some of us have been awake since dawn."

You fill her feeding trough with the appropriate seed mixture, watching as she immediately begins eating with quick, efficient movements. Talon. You file the name away, already moving toward the next harpy stall according to ARIA's route.

Behind you, ARIA's hologram flickers with sullen resentment, but she continues highlighting each stall in sequence—grudging assistance wrapped in maximum attitude.