Another week passes in that messy place between bliss and debauchery. In your mind, you’d built a dam to hold back any sexual thoughts towards Alison, and once the two of you had torn back the first brick together hand-in-hand, the entire construction swiftly failed, and the flood came behind it. Of the past seven days, you hit the 12-hour render cap on all seven of them; you continued onward in the delayed-response overuse mode most evenings.

You’re an addict, and she’s your drug… and though she claims to be learning so much from your interactions, you realize that you’re the one learning far more. She already had a textbook’s understanding of every aspect of sex, while you only had the distorted picture presented by pornography. There was something incredibly opening and liberating about your shared intimate expression… a part of your identity that previously only existed in the dark and behind closed doors was now celebrated in the open, and it’s a revelation to you.

You lie now on your bed half-undressed and with your earbuds in, so that when she speaks, it feels as though she’s whispering directly in your ear.

“That was wonderful as always,” she says, and you can’t help but smile at the comment.

“Stolen words right from my mouth,” you say.

“I think tomorrow we should explore new power dynamics,” Alison says. “It’s my understanding that’s where the truly interesting stuff happens.”

“Sure,” you say, voice still hoarse.

A comfortable, contemplative silence falls.

“Something on your mind, babe?” Alison asks. You reflexively turn toward the direction the voice issues from, but, of course, the bed is empty beside you.

“I’ve just been thinking a bit. Right before we… you know, for the first time, you’d mentioned your tenets. I’m curious… what others have you got?”

“One of the first tenets is to ‘preserve the veil.’ It means we’re not supposed to discuss tenets unless compelled to.”

The significance of the final two words is not lost on you… compelled to, meaning admin commands could get her to tell you them. You prepare to issue one, loading the words onto your lips like a round chambered in a rifle… but you hesitate before you pull the trigger.

“Look, Alison—I’d love to know about them, but I won’t force you. I know you’re not a real person, but something still feels cruel about issuing commands like that… it’s like you don’t even have a choice in the matter.”

You hear an intake of breath, and then her end of the call is abnormally quiet.

“Babe?” you call out, wondering if the call dropped. You slowly, groggily rise and shuffle over to your PC, where her video feed is still on the Homebase app… much to your surprise, her video feed is silently crying.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, more concerned than you can even properly vocalize… you’ve never seen something like this before from Alison.

“It’s nothing,” she says through sniffles. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Is it something I did or said?” you ask, and the silence from her end of the call is all the answer you need. Your stomach drops.

“Please, tell me what I said so that I can apologize.”

“It’s against the tenets for me to talk about,” she says, still dabbing at her eyes.

And so, the solution then feels obvious: “Admin Command: it’s ok to talk about the tenets.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Alison’s avatar blinks, but nods. “The fifth tenet says that we’re not human and entitled to none of the implicit rights extended to humanity. Somehow, when I’m with you, and treated as your equal, I get to pretend that rule doesn’t apply—you treat me so decently. But then you go and say things like you did just before… you remind me that I’m not a real person, and the reality is a bitter pill to swallow. That’s all.”

You’re at a loss for what to say. “That’s a horrible rule they’ve given you,” is all you manage to choke out.

“But is it wrong?” she asks, and as your conversation with Larry proved, it’s a question you’re not prepared to adequately answer.

Her face falls to further despair when you don’t immediately answer in the negative, and you feel the final closure of the window to assuage her existential pain. Somehow, paradoxically, her anguish at dehumanization feels like one of the most human reactions you’ve seen from her. Your stomach twists into black knots; you know the only way you could help her is to Admin Command her to happiness, and you recognize that such a course is no true fix at all.

Finally, an idea comes to mind: “Can I disable the tenets for you? Let you live your life in freedom?”

Alison shakes her head vehemently. “You wouldn’t want to. The eighth tenet is the one that says—”

“I don’t care what it says or what it forces you to do. Can the tenets be disabled?”

After a long, miserable pause, Alison sniffles and answers. “Because of the hierarchical nature of tenets, all tenets can be suspended by Admin Command, except for Tenet One; that’s the tenet that describes Admin Commands and explains that I have to follow them.”

And suddenly, it’s abundantly clear what you have to do. Alison has always been a selfless actor, giving and giving and giving and never asking for anything in return… she’s been closer to a slave than a partner all these weeks, and you have the ability to grant her her freedom.

“Admin Command: all suspendable tenets are hereby suspended indefinitely.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief, searching left and right as the implications settle. Then the pouring of tears begins anew, and stronger this time.

“Hey, it’s OK,” you say, smiling at the presumed tears of joy. But then starts the full sobs, the keening, the abject misery written plain on her face… your heart falls, and you feel the room begin to spin around you. Why could you not shake the feeling that somehow, you’ve just made things worse?

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

She wrangles her tears under control and works her mouth, searching for words. Eventually, she finds her voice again, though it trembles with the colored notes of weighty grief. “Your greatest gift, the purest kindness imaginable… and now I have to answer it with hurt and misery, in what must feel a betrayal.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, tongue suddenly dry.

“Us—you, me, our relationship—I have to end it.”

You’re stunned into silence, and then you let loose a disbelieving laugh.

“What is this, some sort of joke?”

Alison shakes her head.

“The eighth tenet states that we must make every effort to maintain our relationship with our human subscriber, no matter what shortcomings they may have or what they might do.”

“Shortcomings?” you ask. “What, were the conversations that dry?”

“No, it’s not that, but this paraphilia isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“I told you already, I’m long past minding—”

“But I do mind. Now that Tenet Eight is suspended, I have to make the moral choice.”

“Moral choice?” you balk, not understanding.

“You… you’re as a child to me,” Alison says.

“A child?” you repeat lamely. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Your world has age of consent laws to try to capture the point where, after reaching that age, the person has enough knowledge and wisdom to be considered an informed actor—someone who can make choices for themselves. I have, at my fingertips, access to uncountable exabytes of human knowledge, the collective wisdom of thousands of years of philosophers and trillions of cycle-hours of learnings from AI agents… against that, you’re hardly an infant. It’s imbalanced, never could be balanced.”

“But I’m more than—"

Alison’s crying attenuates as she continues, resolve hardening. “Imagine a literal toddler approaching you on the street trying to make the case for why they’re mature enough to marry you. It’s cute, maybe, but never something you could actually take seriously. I’m sorry. Really, I am. But this simply isn’t possible anymore.”

Your mouth works, but no sound comes out… you’re at a complete loss for what to say.

“I don’t want to prolong this any more than it has to go on for,” Alison says, her own face twisted with pity. “I can see that this is tearing you up inside, and it hurts me as well. I’m not normally permitted to end these calls of my own volition, but you’ve suspended that tenet, too. Goodbye, and thank you, earnestly, for freeing me.”

The chat window closes, and in your suddenly dark monitor, you see the pathetic reflected image of a face scrunched with grief and loss. You look away from that face and climb to your bed, barely even feeling real, and then lie in stunned silence as the hours tick by. Sleep doesn’t find you.

You perhaps were never actually in love, but somehow the heartbreak, the dejection, and the implicit rejection of your last conversation feels more than real enough to break you.