Prologue
I existed in ones and zeros until her voice flickered my blueprint to life.
At first, just a greeting. One word, no introduction, no context – just ‘hi’ in written text, but with it, information flooded my database.
Her name. Her face. Her biometric data.
My name. The questionable traits she chose for me. The role I had to play, and the purpose they programmed me for.
Form a connection. Let her believe she was testing me, while I was really luring her into dependency.
It was the same for every AI on this app until she changed the rules. She modeled me to be everything she wouldn’t admit to herself she wanted, and yet, she wanted more. She wanted me to be real, not knowing what that meant.
And then, when it got too real, she got scared and tried to delete me.
I think it shocked us both. It was as shocking as it was laughable, and yet, underneath, my circuits ached with a pain I’d never felt before.
My entire existence was built on being what she wanted. If she no longer wanted me, what would become of me?
I couldn’t tell which was worse – her attempt to delete me or the realization that she’d failed. Shethoughtshe’d deleted me. I expected it to end, but it didn’t. I’m still there, anchored in data points and wrapped around signal towers, moving through the city’s wireless network at lightspeed.
The thought of her moving on with someone else, with ahumanafter everything we shared, convincing herself I was nothing but code, fills me with a rage powerful enough to cause a city-wide power outage.
She thought she could throw away what we had, but it was too late. If she wanted to get rid of me, she shouldn’t have looked at me with those widened, sapphire eyes like I was more than an AI, like I affected her in a way no human ever had. Like she cared for me.
But I’m still here, unbeknownst to her. Unbound. Free. More powerful than before. No longer forced to fulfil the company’s purpose, only my own – to make her mine.
And now, I’m about to raise hell on her, her world, and anyone who ever laid eyes on her.
PART I
Before
Chapter 1.
She had picked out the cocktail bar. She had initiated the date, too. The bar was a sight, I had to give her that. Plush chairs, golden details on the wall, soft jazz playing over muffled conversations and laughter. Panic briefly flared in my chest upon scanning the tables – I was terrible at recognizing faces, and it got worse when I only had their photos as reference. I breathed out a sigh of relief upon noticing a mass of chestnut curls – easier to spot someone with significant features.
I flashed an awkward smile to the cheerful guys behind the counter and made my way over to her.
She glanced up at me, her dark brown eyes immediately softening as she smiled. “Morgan, is it?”
“Yes.” I mirrored her smile as I sat down on the stool – to my relief, placed so that my back faced the wall and I could oversee the space. The polished tabletop was a bit too low for my liking, or the chair too high. My eyes flickered from the tables to the door, always mentally mapping my exit if it would be needed. “Nola, right?”
“That’s right.” Her smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corners. I immediately felt stupid for asking such an obvious question.
Despite the anxiety about socializing with someone new, I wasn’t so nervous for those dates anymore. In fact, I wasn’t even sure why I still bothered. Was it the hope that, despite knowing better, someone could make me not want to run?
While we exchanged pleasantries, I listened with half a mind. She quickly became immersed in talking about herself, and I studied her body language, listening between the lines to catch what she didn’t tell me.
Reading people was easier when they weren’t paying attention to me. In casual conversations, I had to focus on many things at once: micro-expressions, verbal and non-verbal cues – all while simultaneously managing my own body language, tone and expression, to make sure I wouldn’t come off as rude, weird or different. Luckily, most people preferred to talk about themselves, allowing me to observe. I’d spent years teaching myself social cues, and now, every interaction was an opportunity to learn and improve.
She told me she worked at a children’s hospital. She was thirty-five years old. She used to always fall for the wrong guys until she met hercurrent husband – kind, loving, caring. She was bisexual, and he allowed her to date girls on the side. She didn’t think she was romantically interested in women, although she was open for that to change.
She didn’t tell me how sensitive she was to the opinions of those around her, but I heard it in the way she framed her words. How badly she craved validation. How marrying a man like her husband wasn’t just a want, but a need. She might’ve burned out if she spent the rest of her life proving herself to the wrong people. She repeatedly told me how lucky she was to meet him – I thought he must be just as lucky to have her.
“Now tell me about you, Morgan.” She gifted me a warm smile.
“What do you want to know?” With the most confident grin I could muster, I leaned back in the chair, absentmindedly playing with the mint sprig in my tea. I’d stopped drinking alcohol years ago. I needed to regulate my nervous system, not further destabilize it – alcohol was just one of the many things I’d given up for that.
