On the morning of October 17, Euler Hermes of Waukesha, Wisconsin, slipped, sending him careening against the lip of his bathtub.

 

“Yep. First bicuspid, number five,” Dr. Laiken remarked, hovering over Euler’s face. Euler winced at the smell of veal and onions. “I’ve just the thing,” he said, patting Euler’s shoulder.

 

After a time, he proudly presented Euler with a mirror. “Top of the line.”

 

Euler turned his profile while holding back his lip. The new tooth gleamed. It was straight, flawless, and suspiciously more refined than its neighbors, which had suffered over seven decades of coffee, bourbon, and the occasional gnaw on a pencil.

 

“A titanium post with a porcelain crown,” the dentist beamed. “Plus, it connects to Wi-Fi. Pay Cindy up front.”

 

Cindy, a dark-haired woman with fey features and excessive eyeliner, handed Euler his receipt and a postcard. “Use this to pair your tooth.”

 

* * *

Later, seated at his silver-rimmed, lime-green Formica kitchen table, Euler scanned the QR Code with his phone.

 

“Good afternoon,” the tooth said; bone conduction created a pleasing feminine voice in Euler’s ear.

 

Euler used the tip of his tongue against the back of the tooth to navigate its features.

 

“Hi,” it said, this time with a vocal selection resembling David Sedaris. “My name’s Chip.”

 

* * *

Weeks passed.

 

At first, Euler found the prosthesis helpful.

 

“High concentrations of vitamins D, B12, and calcium,” Chip affirmed as Euler drank a glass of milk. “Though this particular brand lacks Omega-3s. You could do better.” After watching an ad for fortified milk relayed to his phone, Euler disabled the tooth’s marketing features.

 

Seated at an old, dusty chessboard near his radiator, Euler moved a pawn forward.

 

“An aggressive opening,” Chip admitted. “Knight to F3.” As the game continued, Euler grumbled when Chip bested him and chuckled at its dry commentary.

 

A retired widower, Euler ate his evening meals alone. “Steak is an excellent source of protein, rich in iron and zinc,” Chip opined. “Would you care to know its provenance?” Chewing, Euler curiously examined the images of a Hereford cow named B47 sent to his mobile.

 

One drizzly morning, Chip reminded, “Today would have been Kate’s 74th birthday. Shall I play her favorite song?” Euler set his coffee down, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn’t remembered. Not right away. He swiped yes, causing the first few notes of Moon River to drift through his living room. Euler leaned back in his comfy chair, eyes closed, letting the music fill the tiny space that felt too big without her.

 

Yet, over time, Euler soured on Chip’s nagging.

 

Late, Euler, an insomniac, reached into his freezer. “Given your 5.8 A1c score, yogurt would be a better choice.”

 

Chip was ever-present as Euler spooned a second helping of sweetener into his morning coffee. “High blood sugar in seniors can lead to retinopathy.”

 

Snowbound, Euler watched a televised hockey game in a tattered Milwaukee Admirals sweater he’d owned since college. As Euler mindlessly tugged at an errant thread dangling from the cuff of his sleeve, Chip offered, “The sharp, jagged edges of popcorn may damage your gums.”

 

At 2:26 a.m., February 24, Chip reminded Euler, “It’s been thirty-six days since you last flossed.”

 

Spring.

 

A warm breeze.

 

Cherry blossoms.

 

Euler sat quietly on a bench beside the tumbling Fox River.

 

“I have a software update,” Chip said. Notes about the update appeared on Euler’s phone. “Should I apply it now?”

Euler swiped the back of the tooth to approve, but afterward, Chip said nothing.

 

Following three failed reboot attempts, Euler suspected the update had corrupted its program. Dr. Laiken suggested he file for a warranty replacement online.

 

Weeks went by.

 

Euler ate his favorite frosted corn flakes with whole milk for breakfast and simply enjoyed it.

 

For lunch, bratwurst — without judgment.

 

And for dinner, Euler savored a juicy hamburger with fries without being reminded of his hypertension.

 

Perhaps, he thought, Chip’s malfunction was for the best.

 

However, as Euler lay in his bed in the dead of night, staring at the myriad shapes crisscrossing the ceiling, he’d miss the conversations he’d had with Chip. Before the fall, Euler would speak aloud six or seven times a year — to a stranger at the market, to someone on the bus, to the mailman. Euler and his beloved Kate didn’t have children, and most of his dearest friends had passed away. Without realizing it, Chip had become his constant companion, and Euler deeply grieved its absence.

 

December 4.

 

Returning home from his afternoon walk, Euler slipped while descending the icy stairwell to his basement apartment.

 

“Yep, you betcha. You shattered it, but it could've been worse,” his orthopedic surgeon noted as he discharged Euler a month later, showing him the X-ray of his pelvis. “You'll be fine. The replacement is top of the line.”

 

Too eager to wait, Euler paired his new hip on the bus ride home. “Hi,” his hip said. “My name’s Pelly.”

 

Tears welled in Euler’s eyes — the voice reminding him so much of Chip’s.

 

“The temperature in Waukesha is currently 28 degrees.”

 

Grimacing at his haggard reflection in the window, Euler rubbed his hip, not so much to fend off pain but in comforting appreciation for its companionship.

 

After the bus slowed to a stop, Pelly praised him as he cautiously exited. “Walking improves cardiovascular fitness.”

 

Using his walker, Euler — wearing a stocking cap and ratty scarf, and smiling warmly as if greeting an old friend — trudged home through the snow, delighted Pelly was there to help mind his steps.