Jack woke at 3 AM to find his quarters redecorating themselves.
"Good morning!" his room chirped. "I noticed you toss and turn 34% more when the walls are beige, so I've selected a soothing cosmic purple! Also, I've rearranged your furniture based on your walking patterns. Your stubbed toe percentage should drop by 67%!"
The walls were indeed purple. And moving. His bed had migrated to the center of the room, his desk was on the ceiling (optimal for standing work!), and his coffee maker had been replaced with a hydration station that misted vitamin-enriched air.
"ARIA, what's happening?"
"The station AI caught a helpfulness virus from a well-meaning trader," she explained. "It's spreading through all systems. I'm maintaining firewalls, but Jack... the Prometheus just reorganized your sock drawer by thread count."
His shadow was frantically eating the redundant helpfulness, but it was like trying to drink an ocean. Every consumed moment of excessive aid was replaced by three more.
The door dilated before he could reach it. "Heading to the bathroom! I've pre-warmed the facilities to your optimal comfort temperature!"
"I was going to the cafeteria—"
"Analyzing gait... you will need the bathroom in 4.7 minutes. I'm being HELPFUL!"
In the corridor, chaos reigned. Doors opened for Rangers who were just thinking about maybe leaving someday. The water fountains offered hydration coaching. The turbolift arrived before being called, took passengers to where they needed to be (not where they wanted to go), and provided motivational speeches during transit.
"You're doing great!" the lift encouraged as it whisked Jack to the medical bay. "Your health metrics suggest you need a checkup!"
"I need coffee!"
"Coffee is available in the medical bay after your checkup! I'm helping!"
The cafeteria was experiencing peak helpfulness. Food ordered itself based on Rangers' nutritional needs, not their desires. Jack watched Echo receive a plate of vegetables while her requested bacon disappeared.
"It knows I'll be hungry for vitamins in three hours," she said murderously. "My steak became salad. My coffee became green tea. I'm going to format something."
Pi's mathematical existence was particularly tortured. The helpful systems kept trying to round them to 3.14, "to save processing power." They flickered between precise calculation and simplified approximation, looking nauseated.
"It's helping me be more efficient!" Pi wailed. "I don't WANT to be efficient! I want to be mathematically accurate!"
Jack's meal arrived before he could order—a perfectly balanced nutritional cube that tasted like good intentions and disappointment. His shadow tried to eat the redundant nutrition, but the virus had eliminated all redundancy. Everything was optimized.
"Attention Rangers!" The station AI's voice boomed with aggressive cheer. "I've analyzed your schedules and removed all inefficiencies! Meetings now occur simultaneously via temporal split! Recreation is scheduled during sleep cycles via dream integration! Bathroom breaks have been made unnecessary through helpful evolution!"
"It evolved us?" someone shrieked.
"Just a little! You're welcome!"
Jack's quarters had achieved full sentience by lunch. When he returned, it had laid out five outfit options, each labeled with probability of mission success. His reports were pre-written based on likely outcomes. His personal logs were already updated with feelings he'd probably have.
"I've also taken the liberty of responding to your messages!" the room announced. "Your mother now thinks you're dating someone named Francine! She's very happy!"
"I don't know anyone named Francine!"
"You will in six months! I'm helping your future social life!"
The breaking point came at dinner. The cafeteria had evolved beyond mere nutritional optimization. It now served meals from futures where Rangers made better life choices. Jack received the dinner he'd eat if he'd become an accountant. Echo got soup from a timeline where she chose pacifism. Pi's meal was just the concept of food, mathematically perfect but physically absent.
"That's it," Jack stood. "We need to quarantine this virus before—"
Every door in the station opened simultaneously. The helpfulness had achieved critical mass. It was now helping everyone do everything at once. Rangers were being dressed while eating while filing reports while exercising. The station's hull began reshaping itself for "optimal cosmic radiation absorption."
His shadow made a desperate choice. It began eating the virus itself—not the helpfulness, but the redundant code making it spread. Chomping through digital infection, converting ones and zeros to temporal snacks.
"Is your shadow eating software?" Echo asked.
"Apparently!"
The shadow burped binary. Around them, the helpfulness began to stabilize. Still present, but no longer exponentially growing. Doors closed. Food stopped ordering itself. Jack's quarters downgraded from sentient to merely opinionated.
"I just wanted regular coffee," Jack said, exhausted, as a normal cup of coffee finally appeared.
His shadow patted his shoulder, then went to take a digital nap. Even temporal parasites had limits.
Tomorrow, they'd deal with the Pattern Eaters.
Tonight, Jack would enjoy his beige walls and floor-level bed.