Dressing for bed

"Yeah, HAVEN. Go ahead and prep for sleep."

Your voice comes out softer than you intended. The makeup, the posture, the whole situation—it's making you modulate without thinking about it.

"Certainly, Chloe. Initiating evening wind-down sequence."

The bedroom lights begin their gradual descent, shifting from the warm pink ambient glow to something deeper, more amber. A faint hum rises from somewhere beneath the floor—white noise, you realize, a gentle ocean-sound wash that fills the space without being intrusive. The temperature drops two degrees. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows glide closed with a whisper of motorized tracks.

"I recommend your Sleepwear look for optimal comfort," HAVEN adds. "Shall I direct you to LUXE?"

Here we go again.

"Sure."

You walk toward the LUXE entrance, and the heels are already feeling marginally less treacherous—muscle memory kicking in after barely an hour. The skirt swishes with each step. You step through the doorway and the panel illuminates immediately.

"Welcome back, Chloe! Time for your Sleepwear look!" LUXE's voice is even perkier than before, if that's possible. "I've got the perfect ensemble for a restful night. Let's get you cozy!"

The robotic arms emerge again, gentle but insistent. First, they work on removing your current outfit—unclasping the necklace, sliding off the earrings, unbuttoning the blouse with mechanical precision. The skirt drops away. The stockings unclip and peel down. Each layer removed leaves you standing in just the pale pink lace bralette and panties, the cool air of the closet raising goosebumps across your bare skin.

At least they're efficient.

"Now, for sleepwear! I'm selecting the Silk Cloud set—Chloe's favorite for weeknights!"

The arms begin their work. A matching lingerie set comes first: a soft balconette bra in blush-pink silk with delicate lace trim along the cups, and matching silk bikini-cut panties with a tiny satin bow at the front waistband. The silk slides against your skin like water—cool at first, then warming to your body temperature almost instantly. It's obscenely comfortable, the kind of fabric that makes you understand why people spend real money on underwear.

Next comes the sleepwear itself: a short silk chemise in a pale lavender, with thin spaghetti straps and a hemline that hits mid-thigh. Lace edging runs along the neckline and hem. The fabric is weightless, barely there, shifting against your body with every breath. It's fitted enough to follow your silhouette but loose enough to move freely.

"And accessories!" LUXE announces cheerfully.

A matching lavender silk eye mask with elastic band. A thin gold chain bracelet with a tiny crescent moon charm that clasps around your wrist.

The smaller arms go to work on your face. Makeup removal—warm, damp pads pressed gently against your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. A cleansing foam massaged in circular motions. A toner mist. A rich moisturizer worked into your skin with cool fingertips. The sensation is genuinely pleasant, your face tingling slightly as the products absorb.

Your hair gets a light brushing and a leave-in conditioning spray that leaves it soft and slightly damp against your shoulders.

"Perfect! You're all set for beauty sleep, Chloe! Sweet dreams!"

The door slides open. You step out on bare feet—no heels this time, at least—and catch yourself in the mirror again. The chemise clings and drifts in equal measure. Your face is clean now, bare of makeup, but the skincare products have left your skin looking dewy and smooth. Your hair falls loose and natural around your face.

You look... younger, somehow. Softer. Like a girl getting ready for bed.

Chloe's bed is enormous—a king-sized platform draped in cream and blush linens, a mountain of decorative pillows. HAVEN has already turned down the covers, the sheets folded back in a precise triangle. A small water carafe and glass sit on the nightstand, along with a charging pad for your phone.

"Your sleep environment is optimized, Chloe. Morning LUXE session is scheduled for 7:00 AM. Goodnight."

You climb into the bed. The sheets are Egyptian cotton, impossibly smooth, and the mattress cradles you like you're floating. The silk chemise shifts against your thighs as you settle. The lavender scent from the fabric mingles with the jasmine-vanilla still lingering in your hair.

This is insane. I'm wearing a silk nightie in my cousin's bed and a robot tucked me in.

But the bed is warm. The white noise is soothing. And you're exhausted from a full day of cleaning, panicking, and being dressed by artificial intelligence.