She did. The black screen remained black for a terrifying second. Then, a soft, amber glow pulsed from its base, like a slow, steady heartbeat. A gentle chime played—not the factory default, but a snippet of her own laugh from three years ago, transposed into a musical note.
He saw the first year: Mrs. Gable’s shaky voice, "Good morning, LG." The hub's bright, cheerful ping in return. He saw hundreds of weather queries, timer settings for her arthritis medication, and endless loops of old Ella Fitzgerald tracks.
After that, nothing. The hub had simply stopped processing voice commands. It wasn't broken. It was heartbroken.