Though all his fighting had been in the simulated, dream-like world of Ruckus Online, Rick felt like he’d been hit by a truck when he unplugged from the array and stood.

He stretched. Kristina had picked up around the house, but she’d been drawing again too, judging by the sketchbook lying on the sofa. He groaned from the effort of walking before he let himself drop into the couch.

The drawing to which her sketchbook was open wasn’t Ditto, but when he flipped the pages back a couple times, there was a new one of the strange bot.

Was he in her implant, too? Had Rick spread his influence around like a disease?

‘Hey babe. Rough day?” Her voice rang out behind him.

He smiled at her. “You’re still drawing. It’s good to see. Plan to get back to painting?”

Her grin was bashful. She looked down, then back up. “Think I should?”

“Oh my God, yes.” Rick’s astonishment at the question temporarily knocked every other concern from his mind. “I mean, is that an actual question?”

She gulped and looked at the ceiling. “Paints and canvas are expensive.”

“And messy,” he said. “And that’s totally irrelevant.” Rick looked at the expensive-looking SR array. Rick blinked as he gazed absently at the machine. “I don’t even know what I’m getting paid.” He glanced back at his wife

Kristina’s expression was also one of astonishment, though a glint of excitement in her eyes accompanied it. “Oh, wow.”

He smiled and signaled for her to sit next to him. “You just getting up from a nap?”

She nodded. “It’s weird having you here, but not really having you here.” She shrugged. “Still, I feel better knowing you’re there.”

She sat and studied him. He smiled, then looked down.

“I love you,” she said.

“I know. I love you, too.”

She reached for his hand and pulled it from her sketchbook, then reached for his other. She pulled them both toward her and put her hands around his. “I need you to hear me. I love you.”

Rick turned so he was facing her. “I know.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you hear me. Can you feel that I love you?”

Rick got a pained look on his face. “I… I think so. I hear what you’re saying.”

She looked away, then back into his eyes. “The things we talked about in therapy…” She bit her lip.

Oh my God, when she does that. Rick’s heart quickened.

Kristina let out frustrated sigh. “It’s like some part of you exists in some other place.”

“I don’t know—”

“Just listen, okay?”

He nodded.

“I don’t not love you because of the other women. I’m hurt.” She looked away again. “It’s humiliating, you know? I ask myself why I wasn’t good enough or—”

“No, stop.” Rick swallowed hard. “It’s not that, wasn’t ever about that.”

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“I was saying,” Kristina continued, “none of that is what’s killing us, Rick.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe the therapist thinks that.” She tilted her head and looked him in the eye. “Y’know, I started to feel bad for you, the way he kept pushing it. What does that mean?” She looked at him as if he had the answer, but he didn’t.

“You felt bad?”

She nodded then tilted her head. “If it’s not about me, why did you do it, though? I mean, I could see on your face you’re embarrassed about it, and you kept looking at me with those eyes, and when you have those eyes, it’s hard to believe you did it, even though I know you did.”

He looked down. “The women?”

“The women, the… murder.”

He looked up, trying to see what was in her mind after she said it. He swallowed hard. “There’s a hole in me, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hands. “I know you have one, too.” He swallowed again. “Yours is obvious, but mine isn’t.” A sad look came over his face. “The truth is, when you tell me you love me, I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He shrugged. “It feels like you’re talking to someone who looks like me who’s sitting two feet to my left, someone either so much better than you think he is or so much worse.”

A look of shock came over her. “I can’t believe you said that.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

Fiercely, she hugged him, squeezing him into her, her arms so much stronger than they looked.

“Honey?”

“You’ve never…” She began to cry. “You’ve always made me feel like I was imagining it,” she whispered.

Something broke inside Rick, not something dramatic or loud, but something quiet and hidden. He pushed her away at arm’s length and looked at her with earnest feeling, looked at her not as his wife, but just as another human person trying to make sense of the world. “I have to tell you something.”

A look of anticipation came over her.

“There are things happening to me and I don’t know what to do.”

Kristina’s expression changed from anxious to confused. “What?”

Rick reached for her sketchbook and held up the most recent drawing of Ditto. “This guy, right here? He’s… helping me.”

Kristina’s eyes were no longer glassy. She looked at him intently, but said nothing.

“In the game—look, you know I”—Rick glanced around the room and lowered his voice—“shouldn’t be able to do that as a reCon.” He finished the last part with a whisper.

“It’s just a game—”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s real enough to trigger my reconditioning.” He nodded as Kristina absorbed the information and an inquisitive look formed as she pursed her lips.

He didn’t let her ask the question. “The damaged implant. It let me…”

Kristina’s eyes went wide and she nodded.

“It’s why I could do it.”

“And now?” she asked.

Rick held up the sketch of Ditto again. “He’s helping me. I don’t know what he wants, but he’s helping.”

She frowned and narrowed one eye at him. “But he’s not real.”

“He’s real.” He nodded. “As real as he could be for being a program, I guess.”

The looked at him a long while, as if trying to think of something to say.

“I’ve been told I uh… keep too many things inside. That I don’t ask for help when I should.”

She nodded, as if trying a new food for the first time. “Why tell me now?”

He grimaced. “You know my boss is…”

“What?” she asked.

“He’s probably a sociopath.” Rick pointed at the clean new SR array. “That comes with strings, maybe worse.”

She frowned. “He came to the hospital when you were recovering. He seemed nice enough.”

“Yeah, I know he seems…” He sighed. “Don’t say anything, but Alex thinks so too, and she’s known him longer.”

“What does this have to do with, uh, the guy in my dreams?”

“Ditto. His name is Ditto.”

“What does this have to do with Ditto?”

Rick shrugged. “I know what Hector wants from me—at least, I think I do, but I have no idea what Ditto wants, and I’m not in a position to push really hard on him.”

“Has he harmed you yet?” she asked.

“No.” He frowned again. “But things aren’t going well with my training with Alex, and we’re both worried I’m not going to be up to snuff by the time Hector wants me to start making him money.” He glanced at the SR array again. “I gotta go back in and do a whole new round of training, but I have to get something to eat first.”

He stood and walked to the fridge. She followed him.

“There’s stew,” she said. “A little extra spice.” She smiled. “I know you like it that way, and we’ve got some money leftover.”

He tilted his head. He hadn’t thought about it.

“Alex put it in your account—enough for a few months rent and utilities and some extra for food and whatnot.” A faint smile crossed her lips. “She’s not all bad, is she?”

Rick didn’t say anything, instead reaching in for the stew.

The hardest part about his recent change in situation was trying to figure out how to read people. “I don’t know. She seems genuine.” A question rose. “Did you meet her? I mean in person?”

Kristina shook her head.

He ladled the food onto a plate and put it in the microwave, then faced her. “You’ve always been better at reading people than me. You think Alex is okay?”

She squinted, then nodded.

That was good enough for him. “And Ditto?”

She shrugged. “In my dreams, he’s… I dunno. Enigmatic.”

Rick sighed and sat to eat. “That sounds like him, yeah.”