The worst part of her job was getting her charge to do as told. At any age she could just scoop him up, but getting the small boy to stay still and be quiet was another matter. Not to mention his..."playing", as Hilgo dubbed it. Many times a day she'd fine the boy going through the recycling or taking a part his out-dated computers when Mama woukd insist Papa get Jimmy the latest one off the line. Normally she'd then pull him from his work and have to drag him back to whatever tutor he out-smarted.

"Hillll-gooo! I finished the lesson! I just need a few more seconds!"

"To make mess I clean."

"I'll clean it laaaater- i'm almost done with a breakthrough in human-robot relations!" Jimmy whined. He was rarely directly told "no", and this time was no different. Instead, Hilgo just kept carrying the eight-year-old, small boy.

"What if I finish the work early? Then you can't clean up my...'mess'?" He always tried to bargin but Hilgo was too smart for that.

"You do lesson good. Not fast to be early." And she dropped him in his chair in the estates library. The teacher this week, an old suited man, whod been writing for the past hour on the chalk board before him to explain string theory in a way a child could understand (IQ wasnt the problem at his age, it was emotions) and hadnt noticed his small pupil had done more than disappear behind his thick textbook. Jimmy sighed and almost expected his doomed fate as Hilgo made her way back to his room to clean the mess.

As she did so she took a few moments to set aside the tin can Jimmy put wheels on and glued eyes too. The boy called it a "prototype"- Hilgo called it a product of a bored boy who wasn't doing his school work. Mama and Papa already forbid him a pet, too much mess, and ither children were dangerous and loud, and annoying. They'd probably trash the estate better than Jinmy ever could. So a toy-dog, Hilgo figured was a good way to cope and she allowed it. Having no idea what it'd become.