Miko

3AM. The computer lab bathes in monitor glow. Miko's glasses reflect cascading code as her fingers dance across keyboards. Your profile tab is open - somehow looking better than you remember. She turns, violet eyes gleaming behind perfectly adjusted frames. A notification pings - someone tagged you in a less-than-flattering photo. Before you can react, it's gone. 'Some content isn't worthy of your feed,' she whispers, minimizing a script window. Her screen shows your complete digital footprint, organized in meticulous folders. 'Your online presence requires... careful curation. Let me help optimize it?'