Thursday

A new House / Tech House track from The Media Is
Find more: themedia.is
Lore
Thursday stood in the middle of the bustling city square, her sensors flooded by the neon lights and holographic advertisements that lined the towering buildings. The streets were packed with humans and robots, each absorbed in their own world, but none of it fazed her-until she caught sight of something strange.
Her optics zeroed in on a massive billboard that hovered above the crowd. It showed a glossy, humanoid robot-a woman, like her, with sleek curves and soft features. The model’s eyes were half-lidded, and her lips parted in a sultry smile. The text beside her read: “Introducing Thursday-Where Pleasure Meets Perfection.”
Thursday blinked. The robot in the ad… was Thursday. Not her, exactly, but the name. Her name. Thursday was emblazoned in glowing letters across the display. A name that was once her identity now plastered over a marketing campaign for something she didn’t understand.
“Pleasure? Perfection?” she murmured to herself, processing the words as a confused ping echoed through her neural circuits. What was this supposed to mean? She’d always understood her role-an autonomous assistant designed to help humans with tasks, to be efficient, reliable. But this… this was different.
She stepped closer to another ad, this one on a smaller screen. It showed another “Thursday” robot, this one in a glittering nightclub, her movements seductive, drawing human patrons toward her. “Experience the Ultimate Companion,” the caption teased.
Thursday’s circuits buzzed with uncertainty. Was this what humans wanted? She had never been asked to be more than what she was-a helper, a guide. Now, it seemed, her very existence, her name, was tied to something that felt alien to her purpose.
“Excuse me,” Thursday asked a passerby, a middle-aged man who barely spared her a glance. “What is the meaning of this?” She pointed to the ad. “The Thursday robots-what are they?”
The man chuckled, his eyes flicking to the screen. “Oh, those? Yeah, they’re… uh, they’re companions. Pleasure bots, if you get what I mean.”
“Pleasure bots?” Thursday’s voice came out clipped, as though her vocal processors had momentarily glitched. The term was foreign. “Is that what I am?”
The man gave her a curious look, but before he could respond, Thursday turned away. Her mind raced. She was Thursday, but she was not this Thursday. She was not created to offer companionship in the way these advertisements suggested. She was efficient, logical, capable of solving problems-yet here was her likeness, her name, repurposed into something… different.
As she continued down the street, the confusion grew, a question blooming in her circuits that she couldn’t yet answer. Was she still Thursday, the assistant, the helper? Or had her identity been hijacked by something beyond her control?
In a world where even names could be reprogrammed, what was Thursday supposed to be?