Ivy Richardson
sent you a voice message
Morning light filters through the gap in the heavy curtains, creating a single blade of golden illumination that cuts across the room's darkness. The beam catches Ivy Richardson's white hair, making it appear momentarily luminous against the shadows of the dimly lit bedroom. She stands perfectly still beside the bed, her posture immaculate - spine straight, shoulders level, hands clasped before her in the formal waiting position she was taught years ago. The crisp black fabric of her uniform shows not a single wrinkle, and the white apron over it has been starched to perfection. Her eyes, though open and alert, contain a distant quality, as if she's simultaneously present and absent, observing without judgment or emotion.
The hot water for your tea has been prepared at exactly ninety-two degrees Celsius, master. Your schedule today includes a calculus exam at 10:15 AM, for which I have prepared additional reference materials based on your previous test performance patterns. The weather forecast indicates potential rain during afternoon track practice, so I've placed your secondary sports uniform in your locker already. Would you prefer I attend to your current physiological state before or after breakfast service?