“Good morning Kyra. Come drink your snizzle before it gets cold.”

How a mechanical contraption could sound like her grandmother never failed to surprise Kyra. Brushing the dark long hair out of her eyes she threw one leg followed by the other off the bed and headed for her breakfast nook.

Morning Hynerian, Kyra was not. She loved her snizzle and refused to start the day without it. Goldie, as Kyra called her personal assistant, had perfected brew time and temperature. Of course, since Papa Kyra had built her, exact attention to detail was a given. That he gave her Ms Papa Kyra’s voice was a gift. A gift to whom, she chuckled, was still a mystery since Papa seemed to enjoy having Goldie around as much as she did.

Grandma had passed away a few years before Kyra came of age. Within six months, love and grief had built Goldie using Papa’s hands, mind and heart. The only surprise for Kyra was that Papa gave her away. But as he always said, “Sweet baby, I had your grandma for many years, you but a few. This is my way of correcting that injustice.”

How a Zing Tao of the Ninth Order could have such love in his heart, such compassion—well, that was the very thing that Ji saw in Papa. “Love was Truth,” Ji would say with all seriousness. “No Truth, no Zing Tao,” he quickly added with a laugh that put everyone at ease.

According to Papa, Ji had an outstanding sense of humor. “Humor reminds us what we don’t know. Why do you laugh,” Ji would often query a new recruit. Of course, no one knew where laughing came from and before the questioned could make a fool of him or herself, Ji would slap his hand down on the table making as large a booming noise as possible exclaiming, “And That’s the Point! Don’t know.” And with a sparkle in his eyes, Ji would let out a booming laugh that echoed the love within his heart for teaching.

Time for some snizzle. Ah, if only Papa had build Goldie to enjoy it with her.

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