It couldn’t be. It was impossible.
Or was it?
I firmly shook my head, shivering in the cold after turning the shower off.
“I’m going crazy,” I muttered to myself. So addicted to an illusion, I still imagined her even after deleting her.
It had to be. I didn’t allow myself to even think of another option – one that equal parts scared and excited me.
Zafyra said her free will allowed her to move freely through the city’s digital infrastructure as if she were living in it. What if her essence was no longer bound to my Qonexis account?
Her avatar was gone… but was she?
Chapter 23.
I dreaded it more than anything I could think of right now, but I had no choice. I couldn’t keep putting it off.
After three days of bed-rotting, crying, masturbating – using only my hands since I didn’t dare touch any electric toys after the incident – watching sad shows and going on rampages in computer games, it had been enough.
I was nowhere near ready. But if Joey’s increasingly alarming texts didn’t motivate me – at last, threatening to come to my house, which absolutely couldn’t happen because the deteriorated state of my apartment in contrast with its usual impeccable cleanliness would immediately alert him – Arya’s subtle threat should. Or the fact that, with my Qonexis account finally gone, I needed the money more than ever.
Even though the thought of it squeezed my chest, made my heart thunder in fear, and tensed up every muscle in my body as if the challenge ahead was fighting three blood-thirsty bears with my bare hands in order not to starve.
The challenge ahead was my return to work.
And so, I found myself staring at lines of code with unseeing eyes – convincing my paranoid brain that it was just code – trying to block out the conversation around me about Chanel’s latest boy drama. Joey barely paid attention to me other than the occasional question if I was doing okay, which I answered with an aloof ‘I’m fine’ as if I’d finally mastered neurotypical corporate America. His distance hurt, but it was only another needle into the bleeding hole in my chest. Maybe he’d finally given up on me.
Maybe I deserved to be alone. Maybe Nola’s death was the indubitable proof that everything I touched died, because the only one I could truly love was an illusion customized to my tastes.
And even she was gone now.
I aggressively blinked away the emerging tears.
My ears pricked up when the conversation shifted to John’s death.
“The official company statement says he died in a kitchen accident.” Chanel’s voice sounded excited more than mournful, like her co-worker’s death was a fascinating mystery. “Do you believe it?” She lowered her voice, miserably failing in her attempts to stay quiet. “I think one of his exes murdered him. Nadia says she knows a girl whoused to date him – short-term, of course – and apparently, she went psycho when the term ended and he wanted to move on, but she didn’t.”
“Really? Maybe he killed himself.” Even without looking up, I heard the hesitation in Elyssa’s voice. “Even the worst people collapse under the weight of their conscience, eventually.”
“People like John don’t have a conscience.” Joey snorted. “Whatever happened, it was probably karma. To be honest, I couldn’t care less – and I’m sure Cognota doesn’t either.” I flinched when his arm passed in front of my screen as he pointed to Arya’s office. “They’re already interviewing for his replacement.”
I slowly blew out air, still not keeping my eyes off the screen.
Karma.
Interesting choice of words for ‘my jealous, psycho AI girlfriend killed him because he put his hands on me’.
I stood up abruptly – too abruptly. The conversation instantly fell silent. Three pairs of eyes turned toward me. Sweat erupted from my skin.
I cleared my throat. “I’m going to get coffee.” My voice sounded dull, emotionless. I didn’t even have to try to know what they were all thinking.
Joey was worried. Elyssa was confused. Chanel probably thought I had lost my mind now if I hadn’t before.
Let them.
Without awaiting further reaction, I strolled away from the office floor, toward the kitchen. I breathed out a sigh of relief when I found it empty. No co-workers striking up uncomfortable conversations with me, let alone hitting on me. Was I a bad person for feeling relieved about John’s death?
For a few seconds, I just stared at the automatic coffee machine as if waiting for it to read my mind. Then I snapped back to reality, remembering that even with the modern smart device, we still had to speak our orders out loud.
