Shane's job takes up more time than I thought–he has to be in that room keeping track of drones for four to six hours a day. Rick and I don't have anything to do. I have no job to go to. Meals are automated. Most of my time is spent with Rick, either fucking, snuggling, or napping. And that's all nice for the first couple of days, but even the most pleasurable activities aren't fun if you have no work or goals to work toward.

Rick has started trying to work on his own code and that's something I hadn't thought he was capable of. Being pushed around by Shane and finding himself unable to push back has motivated him to try and find some kind of work-around that will allow him more autonomy.

The first thing he succeeded at was changing his hair color. It's a small thing, but he was able to consciously change the color from dark brown to orange. It looked ridiculous on him, and I hated it, but I guess that was the point of choosing that color. He was working against the sync, and he succeeded for all of ten minutes.

I'm trying to be supportive, but I'm not sure I really want him to accomplish this goal. I don't want him to fight Shane, I would rather just work on getting Shane to share better and not push Rick around. I broached the subject, but Shane says that he's already being nice enough to Rick by ’letting him fuck my wife’ so he is not willing to make any changes in his own behavior or attitude.

I shouldn't concern myself with it. This is an issue between Shane and Rick and there's not much I can do to help them work it out.

Today I decided to take my mind off the tension simmering between the guys–I'm going to start exercising. I worked out a route using the map on my portable screen; I'll circle around this cafeteria, continue toward the hangar where the biological samples are kept, but loop around and come back at the other cafeteria that's about two miles closer.

I pulled my hair back with a headband and dressed in my workout clothes, now stretching to warm up when Rick joins me.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

I shake my head, “I’m going for a run.” I’m all warmed up and ready. I don’t want to pause and talk now.

"I'll come with."

I sigh, "Ok, but I don't want to talk until I'm done running."

He nods and I take off, jogging at a steady pace. Rick easily keeps pace with me for the whole run. At the end I sprint the last quarter mile, pushing myself to run as fast as I can.

Rick keeps up without any change in his breathing or color. I wonder how fast he can run? How much would it take to tire him out? It’s weird that he wanted to talk right when I was ready to run. I thought the sync meant that he would wait until a good time to even try to talk?

I'm catching my breath and about to go shower when Rick asks, "Now a good time?"

"Yeah."

"You know how I've been looking into ways to alter my programming?" I nod and he continues. "Well, I was exploring the sync and how it works, and I came across your code. The code from your implant is interwoven so tightly with mine that it is nearly impossible to change anything without it affecting you. This is the real roadblock. So I was trying to unravel things, just a little bit, just enough to tweak a couple commands. I was separating what was mine from what was yours by command format and this is where I found something unexpected."

Ugh. I hate technobabble. But it seems to be important to Rick that I follow along.

"Well, the reason why I'm having such a hard time unraveling it is that your code, from your implant is working almost exactly the same as mine."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Yeah, Shane told me that the sync works both ways," I tell him.

"Yes, the sync works both ways, but it should work differently on you than on me. I'm a manufactured person. Everything on my end is a command. I immediately comply; that's what I'm trying to work around. Everything on your end is supposed to be more of a suggestion. Subtle and unnoticeable changes that work seamlessly with your established memories and personality." He looks at me expectantly, as if braced for some big reaction.

"So—" I grapple a bit with what he's telling me. It's not so much that I can't understand it, everything he's said is simple, it's more that I get antsy and uncomfortable having conversations about topics that I don't know anything about. "My implant's code isn't what you expected?"

"No. It's not," He's gazing at me intently. It's making me a little uncomfortable, so I start walking toward Shane's room. He follows me and continues talking, "Your code is formatted exactly like mine. It's made up of commands...commands that can't be ignored."

He holds the door open for me and follows me toward the shower.

"The commands that work for me–a manufactured person with no memories, no childhood, and nothing to interfere with my compliance–they shouldn't work on an organic person. Your personality and learned behaviors should work in opposition, causing your implant to experience a cascade of failures," he's stripping as I do, clearly planning to shower with me. "It would be pointless to program your implant that way. It wouldn't work."

I'm not following anymore. "The code works though. We wouldn't be synced if it didn't," I point out.

"Yes, it works–but it shouldn't. An organic person shouldn't have that kind of programming in their implants to start with." We're in the shower and he's soaping me up as he continues explaining, "Something happened to you before I ever met you. Someone changed your code in a very drastic and dangerous way."

I freeze as understanding starts to dawn. He's accusing Shane of something.

"I want you to try something for me." He starts shampooing my hair, massaging my scalp, "Tell me about your fifth grade teacher."

"I can't remember," I tell him truthfully.

"Okay. Tell me about your high school graduation." He turns me and carefully rinses the shampoo, "What school did you graduate from?"

"I—” I want to end this conversation, I close my eyes, feeling him card his fingers through my hair, coating each strand in conditioner. "I can't remember. I want to stop talking about this."

"I know Honey. This has to be really hard for you." He gazes at me with sympathy then hugs me tightly. When he releases me to finish conditioning my hair, he continues, "But in order to make this kind of code work on a regular person, they would have to mess with your mind. I think someone could use your implant to effectively erase your personality and memories, leaving nothing to interfere with the new code."

"But why would anybody do that?" I ask, already having an idea what the answer might be.

"To turn you into a perfect companion," He says baldly, "To change your preferences to match their own."

"I remember nursing school though. I remember other people I've had sex with and relationships I've had." I argue desperately. What he's telling me is horrific. It's beyond abusive. The idea that Shane erased my whole life, all of my memories to turn me into some kind of compliant Stepford Wife—I don’t want to believe it. There is one thing that has been bothering me this whole time though and that is the Faraday cage. Why did Shane need a Faraday cage in our garage and why don’t I remember him building it?

"How far back can you remember?" Rick interrupts my thoughts.

I focus. I think back.

"Six years."

"And when did you meet Shane?"

"Four years ago."

He shakes his head, "So he left your most recent experiences, from when you met him and a couple years before."

He's finished rinsing the conditioner from my hair. He holds me facing him, his hands cupping my shoulders.

"I couldn't not tell you. I couldn't seek my own individuality and self-direction and leave you to be manipulated and controlled. Do you wish I hadn't told you?"

I shake my head, "No. I'm glad I know."

My voice is wooden, and I feel empty. No feelings at all.

He leads me out of the shower and starts toweling me off.

He keeps looking at my face and studying my reaction, "So, do you want to do something about it?"

"What can I do?" I don’t even know. Do I even need to do anything?

He exhales in a sigh, "We can leave him. There are three other people on this space station, soon there will be two more. Maybe one of them will help us."

"Help us do what?"

"Just keep away from him and try to undo whatever was done to your implant." He looks so earnest, hope and sincerity written across his face.

"Okay." I nod. "We'll do it tomorrow. We'll go for a run, but just keep going. We'll check the guy closest to us first. The one who works in the Bio-storage hangar. He already knows about us."

"Alright. We'll have to act like nothing is wrong until then though."

I agree, but I don't know if I can pull it off.