I woke up and was surrounded by darkness.

“Where am I?” I mumbled, forgetting where I was, and the lights turned on automatically.

As the details of the room registered, I remembered where I was. “Arcadia,” I whispered.

I sat up and then noticed I was wearing pajamas. I didn’t remember putting them on, nor even remembered packing them. I don’t even remember owning a set. But they sure were comfortable. They felt like silk.

All of the contents of my pants were on the bedside table – my wallet, keys, coins, comb, watch and assorted odds and ends, as well as the phone I was given earlier.

Altara must have taken off my clothes and put me in thee pajamas. I blushed big time at that thought.

I noted a pair of fluffy slippers next to my feet. I put them on and padded to the walk-in closet opposite my bed. Sliding the door open, I saw the shirt and pants I was wearing when I arrived, freshly laundered and pressed, hanging with the other clothes I brought.

I didn’t bring much, but the closet was filled with other clothes I hadn’t seen before.

They were very nice indeed, and when I had a feel of the cloth, they all seemed very soft and light. They seemed to be made of cotton, silk, and other recognizable materials but they also seemed to be a little off. They felt great on my fingers, but clearly the cotton shirts and pants weren’t really cotton, and the silk dress shirts weren’t silk. They were close, but slightly different. I wanted to try them on.

At the bottom of the closet were my dress shoes polished to a mirror shine. Right beside them, my canvas shoes and sneakers were so clean they looked new. There were also several slippers, of the kind you were given in hotels, as well as two pairs of casual shoes, another extra pair of formal oxfords and a pair of high-top rubber shoes.

If I knew they were going to provide clothes, I would probably not have brought any.

I opened my dresser and saw the shirts, underpants, socks and handkerchiefs I brought, all folded properly like you see from hotel laundry, as well as the underwear and socks I was wearing, again freshly laundered. And in the corner was a little parcel wrapped in something like cheesecloth. I brought it to my nose and it smelled of subtly of pine. It was a little potpourri bag.

Curious now, I inspected the rest of the room.

I first went to the bathroom, and it had everything you’d expect from a five-star hotel. My shaving kit, shampoo, toothbrush, roll-on deodorant and new soapbar were all in a big porcelain bowl, but I didn’t think I’d need them as the bath was completely stocked. I’ll check them out later.

I walked around my room, touching all the fixtures and furnishings. Like the rest of the house, it had everything I could think of but it all felt very high-tech and modern. The elegant, classic touches that you see in hotel rooms weren’t there, but that was okay.

I gravitated to what I thought was a long, horizontal rectangular mirror mounted in a chrome frame. I wondered why it was there, as there was a mirror over the dresser already. At the bottom and middle of the frame was a glowing red button. I touched it and the mirror lit up with a picture of some news progam. Wow! It wasn’t a mirror but a ginormous tv screen!

When I touched the button again, a rectangular device stuck out from the side of the frame. It couldn’t be anything but a TV remote control. I took it out and saw a glowing red button. I touched it and the picture on the screen was overlaid by instructions on how to operate the controls in English.

According to the instructions, the control apparently operated all the stuff in the house, and also doubled as my smart phone-slash-notepad-slash-electronic concierge; the smartphone touchscreen was on the other side, opposite of the RC buttons, and it seemed that there was a toggle on top. Depending on where it was switched, it functioned either as the house’s TV and remote control, or a smartphone. I guess I won't need to use the phone my "footman" gave me.

In the corner of the TV’s screen was a little animated figure – it was my electronic “concierge” and it would always be there to help with schedules, with directions or whatever else I would need. Furthermore, it was voice activated, and I found that she responded to English instructions as well, except it had that inevitable Arcadian twang.

She answered to the name “Mai,” and she explained that it was a common name for electronic helpers – it was from the initials for an Arcadian phrase that translated to something like “artificially intelligent assistant,” but she said I could pick any other name that I like so that she could be distinguished from other AI assistants.

“How about Samantha?” I asked the computer voice.

“That’s a nice name. Why did you think of that name, Master Timothy,” the AI asked.

“I’ll let you guess.”

The little animated figure on the screen assumed a pose that said she was thinking.

“Did you get the name from the movie ‘Her?’”

“That’s right,” I said, delighted. “How did you guess?”

“Well, the plot involved an AI computer program, after all. It seemed appropriate.”

“Ok, so from now on, you’ll be Samantha.”

Her little animated avatar disappeared, and when she came back, she looked a lot like Scarlett Johansson wearing a green dress, if Scarlett was a computer game avatar, that is.

“Is this better, Master Timothy?” she asked, in a husky voice very close to Scarlett Johansson’s, except that she still had that Arcadian accent.

“That’s great, Samantha!” I said.

The computer avatar bowed. “Thank you, Master Timothy.”

“Okay. I guess I’m awake enough for a cup of coffee.”

“A moment, Master Timothy,” the new Samantha said.

“Huh?”

“I am waking Altara so that she can prepare a meal for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. Let her sleep.”

“She will not be happy with me if I do that. It’s her job to assist, and Arcadians do not take it well if they are not allowed to do their work.”

I paused. I was given strict instructions not to rock any social mores.

“Well, okay,” I nodded. “Yes, please, Samantha. I think I’d like a bite. ”

The little animated girl on the screen nodded and turned to a little animated computer that appeared beside her and typed something up.

“Done,” she said. “Any preferences, Master Timothy?”

“I don’t know… I do remember this midnight snack I ordered while I was in a Berlin hotel - a nice, hearty potato soup with fresh oregano, sausages and half a loaf of great Italian bread and a big pot of Le Beurre Bourdier butter.”

Little Samantha nodded.

“Maybe some more of that soft loaf though instead of italian bread?”

Samantha nodded. “All right. Altara is asking if Callista North salted butter will do – she doesn’t know if she can get Bourdier…”

“Oh! Whatever she has on hand is totally okay. I didn’t mean for her to get some French butter…”

“Of course… Altara is also suggesting a fresh pot of our version of Peruvian Arabica coffee, and our equivalent of port with a serving of her meringue pie. She says it’s her own recipe.”

“Sounds great.”

“Altara is in the kitchen now. She says it’ll take about an hour.”

“All right. I’ll take a bath then, and freshen up.”

“I’ll turn on the water then.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, I can – I can run the entire house.”

“Thanks, Samantha.”

When I saw the drapes, I pulled them aside to reveal a picture window. I also found that the window could slide aside like a door, and it opened to a balcony.

Stepping out onto the balcony and into the crisp night air woke me up. It was something I needed. My house was on top of a hill and I had a wonderful view of the city. It was bright with lights and I could see ribbons of light moving through the various twinkling colors. I wondered when would the the city ever sleep, if ever. It also made me wonder what kind of night life was out there.

“Samantha?” I called back, “would you know what kind of nightlife is out there tonight?”

“Well,” the slightly robotic voice of the AI responded, “there are a lot of things happening in the city, as well as many other cities in Arcadia, even at this hour. In fact, there is always … nightlife somewhere. Although, for Callista, most entertainment and eating establishments would close for the night at around four in the morning. Do you have anything in mind for tonight?”

“Actually, no,” I said. “I’m in your country to work. I guess I can, ummm, indulge after my work’s done.”

“That is very commendable of you. Oh! Your bath is ready.”

“Thanks!”

I went to the bathroom and found the bathtub full of warm, sudsy water. Samantha suggested I take the smartphone-slash-remote control, so I took it out of its slot in the TV, closed the door, put the device on the bathroom counter, took my clothes off and lowered myself in the sudsy water.

Dunking my head underneath a few times, I lay in the water and soaked for a bit, letting the dirt and grime from over twenty-four hours of travel, and whatever tiredness I had left, wash away.

I found myself dozing, and was awakened by a soft chiming.

“Huh?” I said, waking up.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, Master Timothy,” Samantha the AI responded from the remote control-slash-phone, “but you were about to slide underneath the water.”

“Oh. Sorry, Samantha. I guess I’m still not recovered from my jetlag, and the water felt so soothing…”

“I understand.”

“How long was I out?”

“You have been dozing for about half an hour now. Your fingers must be very wrinkled.”

“Haha,” I laughed sarcasically. “Very funny, Samantha.” On a side note, I was amazed that Arcadian AIs could also simulate humor.

After I scrubbed down all over with a washcloth, Samantha dutifully started draining the tub and activated the shower, and I started rinsing.

Fifteen minutes later, I was done, and had finished shaving. I was about to put my pajamas on again, but Samantha stopped me. a drawer of my new dresser slid out, and I took out a fresh pajama set, this one in a silky black color. A little portal popped open and Samantha told me to drop my used pajamas in there.

I did and, with an audible sucking sound, it took my used pajamas away.

"Where are they going?" I asked.

"They are going to be recycled," Samantha said.

I nodded, and then stopped. "Wait. What do you mean 'recycle?' You mean they're going to be washed, don't you?"

"No, Master Timothy. Washing uses up more energy than recycling, not to mention the water. We only wash clothes that cannot be recycled."

I was about to ask why that was, but Samantha explained. "Most of the clothes and other things made for personal use we usually make of recycled polymers. And it's quicker and cheaper to just recycle them again and make new clothes or whatever. Most regular Arcadian clothes and other things are produced by automated machines acccording to a person's specifications. As for your own clothes, you drop them into this other chute..." Another portal popped open. "... and they are whisked away to be washed, dried and ironed in the house's automated washer and dryer."

I nodded. "Thank you, Samantha," I said. "Sometime soon, someone needs to explain to me how the house works."

"I will arrange that as soon as you have time for it."

"Thank you, Samantha."

"You're welcome, Master Timothy. Oh! Altara has signaled that the evening meal is ready."

"Great!"

I was about to go downstairs, but Samantha did her version of clearing her throat, and I noticed that a pin light was shining on a robe that was hanging from a peg on the closet door. I took it to mean that I was suppsoed to wear it. So I did.

The robe looked similar to what I thought was a kind of smoking jacket, and went downstairs.

At the dining area, Altara was there and she had food laid out.

The spread was very inviting and impressive, more like something you'd see in some four-star restaurant but, at the moment, I was more captivated by my "butler:" She had put on a kitchen apron so that she could work, but she wore it over her sleep clothes, which looked like something similar to a baby-doll nightie.

I gulped.

"Is something wrong, Master Timothy?"

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