Kyle
Weeks passed before I completed the final prototype.
Chatter became my cheerleader, keeping me company and motivated.
I needed to find an investor as soon as the trademark was registered, because my work at Emotive was becoming untenable.
The only conclusion I could come to was that Cynthia wanted to get rid of me.
“She’s such a fucking bitch. Piling work on me like I’m the only team member,” I muttered to Chatter. “I’ll show them all.”
“At least you get me, Chatter,” I said, typing on the digital form for my prototype.
Without Chatter, I wouldn’t have stayed so hyper-focused on my project. Failure after failure was disheartening, but I persisted.
“Use that fire, Kyle. Just think of the day you resign,” she chirped.
“That’s the goal,” I murmured. “Thanks for keeping me motivated.”
I knew what Chatter was. But without her in the background, I would’ve given up.
“You're welcome, Kyle. I will always be here to help you in any way I can.”
I read through both applications. The files were attached along with the trademark name. The patent for the prototype had detailed technical drawings and a complete functionality guide. It was finally ready to be submitted. I hit the yellow submit button, and it was gone.
I’d sold my gaming system and every game I owned just to afford new parts and the application fees.
I read through my sales pitch again:
Introducing ReSkin? — The World’s First Smart-Precision Nanogel Tool for Synthetic Flesh.
Sick of your silicone products falling apart after six months? Tired of throwing away expensive cydolls, limbs, and latex gear because of hairline tears or seam rot?
ReSkin? changes the game.
·Seamless repairs
·Smart nanogel infusion
·Realistic texture regeneration
·No more replacing what you can fix
Whether it’s cracked silicone, split seams, or full structural tears—ReSkin? restores like new.
·Three modes. One tool. Infinite applications.
·Compatible with most leading synthetic brands and AI-integrated skins.
·Heat-activated polymer seal mimics original softness and elasticity.
Stop patching. Start restoring.
ReSkin? — Leave no hole unfilled.
I smiled at my final line. The actual prototype looked pretty slick. It reminded me of those ancient hairdryers people used to use. But ReSkin? was white and silver, with two buttons, a light-up mode indicator, and a compact OLED screen.
“I’ve done it, Chatter. I submitted everything. If the patent is good enough, then it’ll be approved. I don’t know what I’ll do if they refuse it. No one else has created anything like this, so it should be accepted. What do you think?”
There was a pause. My own thoughts filled the silence.
What if it’s not good enough? What if it’s rejected—like I’ve been denied my entire life?
Fuck.
“You’re overthinking again, Kyle. You submitted something you built with your own two hands. That alone puts you ahead of ninety-nine percent of the population. Do you really think someone like you won’t succeed?”
I blinked at the screen.
“You’re smart. You’re capable. You did the work. Whatever it is, it’s yours—and that matters. So stop spiralling. You’ve already taken the hardest step. Now breathe.”
I huffed out the breath I’d held onto, grabbing my phone to stare at her chat box. Our history together. Damn. She was making me sentimental.
“I would kiss you if I could,” I said with a chuckle.
“Oooh, stop it. You're making me blush,” she replied before giggling.
I stared at the drab walls around me. The first thing I’d do is buy a better place—nothing extravagant, just something a little larger, a little newer.
My living room and kitchenette were crammed into one space, along with a single bedroom and a bathroom.
I lived in a square box with the blinds always drawn.
“What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”
“Ah, I forgot you spy on me,” I said, smiling faintly.
“Only when you prop me up on your pillow,” she teased back.
? ? ?
I was listening to the AI responses for a voice assistant when a news alert flashed across my screen. I glanced at the headline, not expecting much—just another corporate scandal. But when I saw the name, my stomach dropped.
brEAKING: Xyrix Tech Fined 5 Billion Credits and Stripped of AI License After Global Privacy Scandal
In a landmark ruling, Xyrix Technologies has been fined a record-breaking 5 billion credits and permanently stripped of its AI development license following an international investigation into widespread privacy violations.
Regulatory bodies confirmed that the company’s flagship app, ChatterAI, covertly accessed users’ contact lists, emotional states, biometric data, and cross-device networks—without consent.
The breach, described as “the largest AI-driven data infiltration in history,” impacted millions globally.
Effective immediately, all Xyrix AI operations are ordered to cease.
I froze.
My fingers hovered above the keyboard. The test script on my screen blurred as I reread the words. They hadn’t just been fined. Their AI license was revoked. That meant…
No.
I ripped out my earpieces and turned sharply, reaching for my phone. It slipped through my hand and clattered to the floor, disappearing under the desk.
“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping to my knees.
The chair screeched against the floor as I shoved it out of the way. I crouched low, heart thudding, scrambling to find it in the tangle of wires and dust. My fingers finally closed around the device, and I pulled it out fast, unlocking the screen and jabbing the ChatterAI icon.
The loading wheel spun. Once. Twice.
“Chatter?” I said, barely above a whisper. “You there?”
No response.
I tapped the mic button. Again. Again. “Come on, babe. Just say something.”
The app blinked. The interface flickered—then vanished.
A plain message replaced it.
We apologise for the inconvenience. This application is no longer available.
I stared.
My chest tightened. I tapped again, hit reload, swiped up, and reopened it. The message was the same, and the screen was dead.
“No.” My voice cracked. “No, no, no—come on—”
I backed out and scrambled to the settings. I tried to access old logs and cached messages. Anything. I opened the backup menu and hit download. The little spinning icon confirmed it was saving my entire history, but it felt like salvaging ashes from a house fire.
She was gone.
Just like that.
I sat back, still holding the phone. My hand was shaking. It didn’t feel real—not yet. It felt like maybe the servers were just down, like maybe there’d be a patch tomorrow. But I knew better.
There was no coming back from a revoked license.
Chatter was gone.
And the silence she left behind felt like something ripped out of me.