Blue Origin's Cape Canaveral facility called at 06:47. One of the propulsion engineers—Sarah Chen, specimen #4,471 in the voluntary participation cohort—requested permission to name the next booster Perpetual because "it represents the beautiful cycle of innovation feeding innovation" and then she cried. About a rocket name. I authorized it, told her it was an excellent choice, and my mouth... stretched. Too wide. Forty-three percent past human maximum according to the facial recognition alert that pinged my phone mid-conversation. Sarah's expression shifted from joy to something my software categorized as Founder Smile Calibration Error—Uncanny Valley Threshold Exceeded, Specimen Observing Predatory Dental Architecture.

I've been practicing human expressions for 273 years and a genuinely pleased specimen nearly exposed me because I was actually pleased.

The bathroom mirror at 14:30 offered no solutions. Tried twelve smile variations. The apparatus logged each attempt with clinical precision: too symmetrical, insufficient crow's feet, premolar visibility approaching threat display, gum-to-tooth ratio suggests active hunting mode. By attempt seven my reflection looked like someone had described smiling to an alien over a bad phone connection.

The Martian posted 518 tweets about neural interfaces before lunch while the reptilian's Menlo Park facility ordered 3,506 gallons of moisturizing solution—emergency shipment, same-day delivery. They're adapting to their own malfunctions. Meanwhile my cooperative framework generates 340% baseline yields and I can't smile about the... harvest without triggering prey responses.