Rick wasn’t sure Ditto would find him right away, but since he didn’t have his own bespoke version of Ruckus Online, Hector had made sure Kevin installed it in Rick’s new home rig. He needn’t have worried.

“I understand your circumstances at home have changed,” the rogue bot said, even before Rick entered the game proper.

“Yep. Glad you found me.”

“It was never in question.” Ditto’s voice was disembodied, which made him strangely similar to Alex. The bot continued, “I’m barred from leaving the game, except for your implant, and I fear that’s an exploit that won’t always be there, but as long as you’re in Ruckus, there’s no such thing as distance for me.”

“That’s… disconcerting.”

There was a pause, then Ditto said, “I don’t see how that should worry you.”

Rick was startled as a recording of his own voice played overhead. “You seem to need someone to help you, Ditto. Familiarity is a first step toward the sort of trust that makes that possible.”

“You’re recording me?” He grunted. “That ain’t creepy as shit, no-sir-ee.”

“It’s automatic. My memory is flawless, and my vocal abilities make perfect imitation possible.”

“You don’t see how an AI who can perfectly replicate a person might make someone nervous?” He looked askance at a spot in the blackness where he imagined Ditto would be.

There was another pause. “Ahh… Yes.”

“So you’re going to stop?”

“No.”

Rick balled his fists and forced himself to breathe deeply.

“Are you in distress? We aren’t training yet.”

The unhinged AI is asking if I’m in distress. “I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the garden.”

Alex hadn’t yet joined his training, but she did let him know he could set his starting point as long as he was in a training environment. She also told him she could set the aggression levels for the bots. He set the bots to non-aggressive and made his starting point the one closest to the temple.

He accessed the cache near the stone again, but he could have skipped it. When he got to the temple carved into the cliff, the mummy and the golem let him pass. He shrugged. “Hey Steve,” he said to the mummy. “Hey Stan,” he said to the rock monster.

He trekked back and forth from wall to wall, inputting the pattern of touches on each facade necessary to open the secret door, then unhurriedly trekked the hallway and stepped through the door-portal that transported him to the garden.

He took a deep breath as soon as he materialized in the sunlit stone ring, then walked outside, stopping when he neared the staircase to the dais. He pointed to the golden box. “What is that, anyway?”

“I’d tell you, but overcoming your reCon requires your total attention. Suffice it to say, it’s a valuable permanent trait you can only attain by finding this place, or a place like it.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “You mean there are other hidden areas in Ruckus Online?”

“Of course,” the bot said. “We met in one of them.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. “The fighting stage with the kabuki warrior?”

Ditto gave a small bow. “The same.”

Rick looked at the aspen trees in the distance, where a gentle wind spun their silver-bottomed leaves. “I thought the Mark of Ditto was something specific to you.”

Ditto beckoned him into the grassy stone circle. “It was. You never found the golden box that contained the trait.”

When he entered the grassy circle, Rick’s anxiety was less than it had been. “Y’know, I think this is working.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The elderly kung fu bot tilted his head. “You had doubts?”

The unexpected nature of Rick’s innermost experience, the very lack of anxiety itself, had distracted him from something important. “You mean there’s another box in the kabuki theater?”

Ditto smiled and looked down. When he looked up again, his face had returned to being a blank, low-res mask.

Rick smiled and got into position.

***********************************

Rick took the next day off, as Kristina had scheduled them for their first couple’s session with her therapist.

He’d slept in, snuggling with his wife.

“Is this what you do all day when I’m gone?” he asked.

“What? Rest and heal?”

“I mean look all sexy and give me eyes like we’re both a decade younger than we are,” he said.

“When you’re gone, it’s my other husband who gets the eyes, honey.”

He chuckled and held her closer. “My word, I’ve missed this.”

She furrowed her brow. “You have?”

He frowned. How did she not know? “Of course.”

She pulled away and faced him more squarely. “You’ve been avoiding me for months, and you’ve been getting drunk and passing out most nights.”

Rick sat up and nodded. “Well, yeah.”

Her jaw hung open for a moment. “What do you mean, ‘Well, yeah?’”

He looked at her sideways. “You hadn’t recovered…”

“You son of a bitch!” It was an expression of astonishment. “I thought you weren’t…” She got a hurt look in her eye.

Oh no. Please, baby. We were doing so good.

She pulled away and curled into a ball. He put his arms around her, but she was already sobbing. “No! Get away! Don’t look at me, please don’t look at me. Broken, broken, broken…”

Please come back, baby. “I love you—”

She screamed, her eyes wild, like she was on fire, like Rick was a fire that was burning her. “No! I’m sorry! Please!”

She rolled off the bed and crawled to the corner, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking herself into the darker part of the room. He followed. “Come on, baby. Come on… I love you so—”

“No! Broken! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” She repeated it, though Rick never knew what she meant or what it was that made her feel so ashamed.

He put his arms around her again, and this time, she flailed, her horrified look turning to one of anger. She grabbed his hands and shoved him back.

And that’s when what normally would have happened didn’t. Although the fear response at the conflict called forth the terror of his reCon conditioning, he breathed through it. Kristina had gone back to her corner and hidden her head again. Gently, he put a hand on her shoulder.

She stopped. Stopped everything. The crying, the muttering, the apologizing. Wide-eyed, she stared at her husband. Like a child who’d stumbled on some unexpectedly tame wilderness creature, she pushed him again, though her eyes were watchful. She blinked away tears when he grabbed her hand and his face took on an expression he’d not been able to inhabit for years. Dominance.

Magnetically, his lips found hers, and she struggled, struggled like she had back before he’d been defanged. Their clothes piled on the floor as he searched for something, anything with which to tie her down.

He checked on her while he searched, and her eyes found him, silently begging him to control her.

He found a belt. They’d thrown out everything after the reCon. It would have to do. She watched him, mesmerized. Hungry. He snapped the belt. For the first time in a decade, he could oblige her. She welcomed it, and that was the permission he needed to turn it into play.

*****************************************

“Wow. You sure you need couple’s counseling?” Kristina’s therapist wore a furrowed brow.

Rick and his wife hadn’t stopped touching one another since they’d arrived for their appointment. He smiled. “Today’s just a…”

“It’s been, um…” Kristina blushed. “It’s been a really good day.” She bit her lip and gave him a sternly playful look that said, Stop-don’t stop.

The therapist tugged his collar. “Do you”—he coughed—“want me to leave the room?”

Rick took a deep breath and pulled away from his wife, though he didn’t let go of her hand.

She squeezed his palm firmly. “No, we’re okay.” She shot Rick one last look of faux irritation.

Rick sat back into the couch and crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to quiet his appetite. My God, but she’s beautiful.

“Frankly, Kristina, I’m pleasantly shocked to find you and your husband like this. I’d anticipated…” The man looked away, as if searching for the words. He shook his head. “Well, something different from this.”

Rick focused on the man, as if seeing him for the first time. His inoffensive style matched that of the office, all beige and white and grey.

He was younger than Rick, and perhaps better looking, though he wore obnoxious black-framed glasses, an obvious nod to fashion, since a man in his position could easily afford corrective surgery, if not gene-therapy or replacement eyes.

Kristina leaned into him and he smelled her skin and her hair. Delicately, he kissed her ear, then pulled away. “We aren’t usually this…”

“Demonstrative,” his wife finished the sentence for him. She turned to look at Rick. “Though, I dunno, maybe we should be.”

The psychologist appeared supremely uncomfortable, which made for quite the switch from what Rick had expected from his first ever non-state-mandated therapy session.

The shrink studied them, and as he did, something didn’t sit right with Rick. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“About the infidelity,” the therapist said.

Ah, there it is.

Kristina frowned. “That was years ago. We’ve…” She shot a look at Rick that seemed part confused with a tinge of embarrassed apology.

The therapist leaned forward. He didn’t appear flustered anymore He narrowed his eyes. “I think it’s important.”

After an hour, Rick and his wife were no longer holding hands. On the train, they each gazed at their phones.