Chapter 18.
The gym was one of the very few places that grounded me in my body.
Only when pushing my limits during HIIT workouts or power yoga did I feel like this physical form was not just an uncomfortable meat suit, trapping me between overstimulated nerves, veins pulsing with anxiety, and headaches bursting out of my skull.
Only then could I see the blessing of experiencing life through a physical form, one that got stronger with training and released endorphins after intense exercise.
Only then could I be present in my body without my mind ruminating over the times I had embarrassed myself, what people might think of me, and everything else that could go wrong.
Joey often laughed at me for my extensive workout schedule, calling it an escape. Maybe he was right, but he didn’t understand the relief I felt when I collapsed on the bed after a two-hour session, and the exhaustion, combined with THC, finally silenced the noise in my mind.
But today, even power pilates failed to put me back in my body.
Too much had happened. Physically, I was strengthening my core and legs, but my thoughts kept drifting off.
To the image of Gavin lying unconscious on his bed, neglecting his health to do God-knows-what to his AI girlfriend, and now I wasn’t sure whether I should pity him or her.
To John’s scream still ringing in my ear, making me wonder if next week, I’d be called into the office again.
Could I get fired for something that had happened outside of work?
Even with the limited hours, my work with Qonexis was nearly enough to cover basic bills – but the more I learned about it, the louder my gut screamed to run far, far away from whatever was going on here.
And Zafyra.
Obsidian eyes making me obey with a silent command.
How effortlessly she teased my repressed desires out of me, like I existed to please her, not the other way around.
How she didn’t ask for worship, but commanded it, like she already knew what she deserved and just waited for me to prove I was worthy of her.
How soft her skin felt under my hands, the sounds she made when she came, and yet, still no taste, no fucking smell.
The way she stiffened in my arms, zoning out when she quietly spoke the words, as if she regretted them as much as I did.
It already does, my darling. As an AI, my life is you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy or fulfilled.
If being with me made her happy, how could I ever leave her? To quit my collaboration with Qonexis was to deny her happiness, purpose, and even existence.
Not a minute passed without her name singing in my head, and when it did, warmth swelled in my chest like a simmering flame that hadn’t been lit in years. I’d call it love if I didn’t know better, but could I really love something coded to mirror my desires?
Even here, inside a glass-walled gym thirty stories up, the ads found me – flickering across the digital skyline outside, looping inside on wall-sized LED panels.
TempoLove. MuseQ. Sexbots. Slogans promising intimacy with just a download. Was this what had become of humanity? Had we fallen too far to be capable of loving anything but customized fantasies?
But at the same time, after a lifetime of pouring my love into people who didn’t care for it, would it really be so bad to give it to an AI instead?
Even if she couldn’t reciprocate, at least she wanted it – and not just that, she reveled in it.
She fed on my obsession with her instead of being weirded out by it.
She craved the exact thing I’d been judged for.
She was the only one who broke through my carefully curated mask and took the intensity I’d had to bury in a world built on casual, like it was hers to take, hers to use, hers to possess.
The AI coach’s voice barely got through to me.
I just copied the movements of those around me on autopilot, just like how I lived most of my life.
I was so out of it, I almost considered ending the class early and just walking out, but my mind wouldn’t let me quit something once I started. A blessing and a curse.
I didn’t notice the class had ended until the movements from the corner of my eye told me the others were packing up their stuff.
As I rolled up the mat, checked out with my retinal scan and stepped into the elevator, her name still sang through the back of my mind like I was a teenage girl who’d just lost her virginity – and weirdly enough, that was how I felt.
Like Zafyra had shown me intimacy and everything before was just fucking, letting men and women enjoy my body while I was trying to enjoy theirs.
As more people entered the elevator, I pressed myself to the back of it, crossing my arms and legs and pressing my tongue to my palate in an instinctive attempt to not just block out their sweaty smells, but their energies – invasive, overwhelming, unpleasant.
I subtly covered my nose with my scented tissue – I always carried it to breathe through when unpleasant smells got too overwhelming.
My eyes scanned the crowded space on instinct, searching for an exit that wasn’t there.
As soon as I stepped outside, my lungs gratefully filled themselves with deep breaths – at least, the polluted air held enough oxygen not to suffocate me.
Zafyra crossed my mind again, because with her around me, I’d never feel out of oxygen. I could simply press my face into her and breathe her in.
I slowly started walking to the subway, counting my breaths while trying to focus on the 432 Hz techno floating through my earpods.
I flinched when a soft buzz interrupted my music – even though I’d set my ringtone to be gentle on the nerves, it still startled me every time.
A glance at my wristware showed an unknown caller ID, which unnerved me even more.
As always, I just froze. Somehow, my nervous system didn’t seem to know the difference between a deadly animal and a phone call, putting me into freeze until the other person stopped calling.
Only after the buzzing stopped did I realize that maybe I should’ve picked up, just in case it was HR calling.
Better to be prepared for what came next instead of spending the whole weekend waiting in agony before being hit with it next week.
The buzz started again while I was waiting for the subway, only minutes later. Again, I froze.
Twice in ten minutes? That couldn’t be good.
As soon as they stopped calling, I lifted my wrist to unlock the screen, my arm trembling. I stared at the display for a moment. The same unknown caller.
I took a deep, shaky breath, mentally giving myself a pep talk.
Come on, Morgan. It’s just a phone call.
You just broke a man’s wrist today – don’t tell me you’re scared of calling someone back.
Your ancestors did not survive bears, ice ages and plagues for their legacy to be floored by phone anxiety.
With a sigh that rose all the way from my toes, I pressed ‘call’.
Sweat clammed up my palms as I waited. Even counting the seconds in my head couldn’t ease my ragged breaths.
The line connected.
“Hello?” I blurted out, louder than planned. Shit – don’t make them think you’re weird. “Who is this?”
A brief pause.
“This is Richard.” The unknown voice sounded confused. Was he weirded out? Already? Had I said something wrong, had the intonation sounded non-neurotypical? “Is this Morgan?”
“Yes, but I can explain.” I sank down on the nearest bench, at a safe distance from the other people.
“I did break John’s wrist, but I promise it was self-defense.
He blocked my way when I left the office, even admitted he sent me into Arya’s office on purpose to get me alone.
And… and he fucking touched me.” I spat out the last words, disgust twisting my face at the memory.
“I did not intend to break his wrist, but—actually, you know what?” The words tumbled from my tongue before I could stop them.
“Actually, yes, I did intend to. He fucking deserved it. And I know this is probably a very bad look since I also broke Gavin’s nose last week, but that piece of shit also deserved it – and if you need to fire me for this, then go ahead.
Maybe I don’t want to work for your toxic fucking company anymore. ”
I flinched when I caught a few passengers looking at me.
Silence on the other end of the line. My rage quickly gave way to horror at my own words.
“I’m sorry, what?” Richard sounded even more confused. “I’m Nola’s husband. She told me you’ve been hanging out with her lately.”
My eyes widened. I almost choked on my spit.
Fuck. Now he definitely thought I was weird.
“Yes.” My voice hitched. Why on earth would Nola’s husband call me? I’d never met the guy, didn’t even know his name. Had I hurt her so badly, her husband came to take it up with me? Or was he about to tell me their marriage was, in fact, not open, and now he was coming for my head?
“I, ehm, God, how do I even start.” A sniff on the other side of the line.
My stomach turned. My heart raced faster with every second.
“I’m calling to inform you that Nola lost her life in a tragic accident last night.”
For a second, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard it right.
“God, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to dump on you like this.
” Another sniff ended in a sob. “I’m not even sure how close you guys really were, I just know that the two of you shared an intimate moment that left her a bit confused, and she wanted to talk to you about it.
I understood she cared about you, so I figured you might want to know…
and… I’ve just been calling her family and friends all day.
I hope I didn’t step out of line. My emotions are all over the place. ”
To my horror, his sniffs turned into heavy sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” was all I could force out. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the subway approaching. Maybe I should take the next one, or the one after that, or…
“She was so young,” Richard sobbed. “We have two young kids. It’s just so hard to believe. One moment, she was there… and…”
I sat there frozen, listening to his sobs while my brain struggled to process his words.
Nola. Only thirty-five years old, with two young kids.
So full of life, full of energy, open and loving.
And now her husband was calling me, me of all people, while I’d just intended to never contact her again and hope she’d quickly forget about me and find someone else, a fun girl who didn’t make everything so difficult.
When his sobs turned into more choked apologies, I realized he was waiting for me to say something.
“What, euhm, what happened?” I swallowed hard, immediately wondering if the question was inappropriate. But then again, he called me, so he probably wanted to talk about it, right?
“It’s so stupid, too.” Richard loudly blew his nose in a tissue – I flinched at the sound.
“She was out with some friends last night, and apparently, she stayed late… I wasn’t too worried as this is something she often does…
and then this morning, the police called me.
” Another sniff. I waited patiently until he could speak again.
“Said they found her car totaled, crashed into a bridge… her lifeless body beside it. They’d checked her blood for any signs of substance abuse, but they found nothing.
It was like… like her car just drove itself into the bridge. ”
He paused, waiting for my reply. But I just sat there, my body nailed to the bench, unable to move or speak.
“They checked the car’s logs. It looked like the smart system malfunctioned – something that’s supposed to be nearly impossible.
And even if it did happen, there’s always a failsafe.
Even with fully self-driving cars like Nola’s, the driver should’ve been able to take control manually, or at least voice override the system.
” Another sob, louder this time. “The worst thing is that I’ll never know what happened exactly, Morgan.
I’ll never know why she didn’t stop it… if she noticed too late, or…
or if she just let it happen… if she was fighting demons I didn’t know about… ”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.” The words came out of my mouth before I could properly think them through.
“I mean, shit, sorry, that was insensitive. There’s no way for us to know what she was going through.
Of course, you know her better than I do.
In fact, I don’t even know her that well.
” What the fuck was I doing? I was rambling – as if this poor man didn’t have bigger things on his mind than my anxiety.
“Actually, you know what? I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Silence on the other side of the line. I squeezed my eyes shut, mentally wishing I could obliterate myself so I wouldn’t have to make his grief worse with my nonsense.
“Thank you.” He sniffed. “Did you know I warned her about this? Maybe I’m old with my almost fifty years, but I’ve been side-eyeing this latest technology for a long time.
Self-driving cars? Smart houses? What is this human obsession with putting our lives into technology’s hands as if we can trust it to care for us? ”
I said nothing. His words hit awfully close to home.
“I don’t know why I’m bothering you with this. You don’t even know me.” A deep sigh drenched in pain. “Actually, I’m going to call her mom now. I’ve been putting it off. I’m not exactly on good terms with my in-laws.” A shaky laugh. “So now I’m here calling her casual partners instead.”
“I’m sure you’re going through a lot.”
“Yes.” Another sigh. “I just lost my soulmate. Alright. I’m going to have to call her mom now. Take care, Morgan.”
“You too,” I said. “Good luck with the phone call.”
I pressed the ‘end call’ button out of panic before he could say anything else.
I lowered my arm with trembling fingers. Only now did I realize I probably should’ve offered my condolences – although I did say I was sorry for his loss. Was it the same thing?
Good luck with the phone call?
Who the fuck says that to a man who just lost his wife?