“Honey!”

Rick sat up in the dark room. His mouth was dry. “Wha?”

Kristina-Anne flipped on the lights and panted. “Oh God.” She hunched over and breathed. “I thought you were dying.”

Rick blinked, unable to see in the bright light. He swallowed. “Oh fuck.” He stuck his tongue out. “I need water.” He looked around. “How long have I been asleep?”

Kristina came to the bed and sat next to him. “I got home late, but you were out.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You haven’t screamed like that since…” She shook her head slowly.

“Yeah.” He looked her in the eye. “Not since I first came back from reCon.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You sure you’re up—”

“Yes.” He pulled her close. “I’m sure.”

“It scares me is all,” she said.

“I know.”

She leaned in.

“I need water first, maybe.”

She kissed his forehead, then nodded and left the room. The sound of the faucet followed before she returned and handed him a glass.

“Lifesaver.”

“You’re easy to please.” She gazed at him, concern in her eyes.

Rick stretched and sat on the side of the bed. “You cook?”

“Stir fry. Came out good, I think.”

“I qualified.” Rick stood and walked out of the room. He called back as he entered the bathroom, leaving the door open as he pissed. “There was an undetected cheater, pretty sure.”

Kristina came to the door and leaned against the jamb.

“You gonna watch me pee?”

She smiled. “Maybe.”

Rick shrugged and kept peeing, then washed his hands. His wife hovered, reaching out for him as he approached the door, then pulled him in for a kiss. “You sure you’re okay?”

He sighed. “Probably.” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them. “Disoriented sleeping like that. What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“At night?”

She tilted her head. “Yeah?” She narrowed her eyes. “Your implant giving you trouble?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. Hector was supposed to deposit money…”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s…”

Rick worried. “Not enough?”

Her eyes were wide. “No, definitely not that.”

He walked with her to the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

“Baby. It’s…” She frowned. “My mom would be impressed.”

He grunted. “I’d pay to see that. From a distance.” He pulled the stir-fried beef and rice from the fridge and ate a piece before putting it into the microwave. It only served to make him hungrier. “I should have eaten before I slept, but I just couldn’t.” He perked up. “Therapy okay?”

She sat. “Yeah. Doing some crazy”—she gestured with her finger back and forth—“shit with my eyes.”

He frowned. “Something wrong with your eyes?” He was feeling more awake. “I think your eyes are perfect.”

“Naw, it’s something to do with the way the brain records scary memories or something. Gives me some weird imagery, but when I’m done, I feel a thousand pounds lighter.”

The microwave beeped. “Fuck, sweetie. You lose any more weight I won’t be able to find you.”

She smirked. “Emotionally, I mean. Smartass.”

He looked up as if considering whether he was indeed a smartass, then shrugged. “That checks out.” He pulled his meal from the microwave and scooped more up with his hand. “Ow. Fuck.”

“My husband, the barbarian. You won’t burn your fingers if you use a fork.”

“Ya think so?” He fished in the dish rack for a clean one, then presented it like a prize. He sat with a heavy flop. “Is it possible to be tired from sleeping?” The memory of the nightmare was still with him, but it had faded. He’d been a basket-case those first weeks, but he’d had that same dream once every few months for years. It no longer surprised him; instead it simply left him with a feeling of relief he wasn’t there anymore. What had made it reappear now?

“You gonna try to go back to bed?” She pulled a piece of beef from his container and chewed.

“I dunno. Kinda wired now. Haven’t had a reCon dream for a few months, and I gotta talk to Alex or Ditto—maybe both—about this cheating thing.”

“You’ll be too exhausted to play the game if you don’t get your sleep schedule, right?” Kristina had a look of concern on her face again.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Rick shrugged. “Every training session, I’ve gotten better at pushing back at the reCon, but if there’s someone using an undetected cheat and I run into them early, I might not have a chance. I won’t have a bank of extra skills or boosts.”

Kristina gave him a confused look. He’d never explained much about the game mechanics with her.

He smiled. “You like that paycheck I got? That’s all legit now. We’re above board.”

Kristina’s face sagged and she looked ten years older in an instant. Worry lines creased her brow. “The money is great, but…” She sighed. “When you started this, you looked fierce.” She smiled and the tiredness fled, replaced by pride. “I have my lion and my lamb both, now, but you look like you’re carrying a hundred-thousand pounds, and if it breaks you, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

Rick tried to reassure her, but she didn’t let him. She looked down. “No, baby. I know I’ve put you through…” She swallowed. “I know I’ve scared you.” She looked into his eyes then. “But when we got you to ED and the doctors saw you, and I saw the look on their faces, and I thought I would lose you…”

“You’re not going to lose—”

“When I thought I’d lose you, I realized that must be what you felt like every time I tried to…” She didn’t finish.

Guilt tore at him, and as it did so, he did feel like he carried a hundred-thousand pounds.

Kristina misinterpreted the look. “I’m doing so much better. You don’t have to—”

“It’s not that.” Rick looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. He let out a long slow breath, then leveled his gaze at her again. “Let me eat and shower, then I’ll talk to Ditto and maybe Alex to see what sort of options I have.” He shoveled a large scoop of stir-fry and rice into his mouth, giving him time to think while he chewed and swallowed. The food was so good it pulled his focus from his guilt and worry.

His wife noticed and smiled. “Told you. Good, right?”

He nodded. In spite of it all, despite the clusterfuck of Kristina’s mental health and his limitations, the flavor of the food nourished his soul, reminding him that good things were still possible.

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

Though he yearned to to reach out to Ditto immediately, Rick waited till he was in-game and in the temple garden before asking his questions.

The bot considered him with narrowed eyes. “It might simply be a skilled player.” He frowned. “Someone may have made an alternative character, so they know the best skills and stat sheets at every level for them.”

Rick tilted his head. “The guy jumped off the branch. What do you think would have happened had it been me? And it was like a scene from an action movie. Zero fuck’s given by this guy.”

“Lucky landing? Maybe into water or…”

Rick wasn’t having it. “I crushed his hip with Iron Fist before he jumped.” He nodded for emphasis. “When we fought in the ashlands, he wasn’t injured at all. I’ve checked the net, man. There’s no way to heal in Ruckus Online.” He crossed his arms.

“It’s troubling. I can check the logs, but if the anti-cheat algorithm didn’t catch him in-game, it’s because it’s some new method the protocol hasn’t found yet.”

“Why would someone with that level of skill with covering their tracks be in a Rank One match?” Rick tried not to let frustration put him into tunnel vision. It was thinking like that which had always caused him to hit plateaus in real world matches. Back then he’d had a trainer to guide him, and though Ditto was helpful, the bot wasn’t a competitive player and never had to worry about emotions getting the best of him. “You never have to worry about you opponent getting into your head, do you?”

“My code is adaptable, but I control all new input.”

That gave Rick a welcome laugh that lightened the mood. “That’s not… I mean you never have your opponent making you second-guess yourself.”

Ditto’s face brightened, as the sun had come out from behind the clouds. His expression became childlike. “I would murder a head of state to make that possible.”

Rick’s jaw dropped, not at the exaggeration, though that was troubling, but at the thought that the kung fu bot desired to have an opponent who could frustrate him.

Ditto noticed Rick’s slack-jawed state and said, “I assure you, that was an exaggeration.”

“I’d hoped so, but I’m more curious about your excitement at dealing with a problem I gotta struggle to overcome. Jesus Christ, Ditto, half my progress in my real-world fighting career had to do with not letting the other fighter make me forget my training.”

Ditto frowned. “I can’t forget my training. I can set my reaction parameters down. I have to drop them considerably to allow a human to beat me, for instance.”

“First off, fuck you.” Rick laughed again.

“I didn’t mean that as an insult. I may have disclosed too much. That shouldn’t be possible, Rick Pr—” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Rick.” Ditto gritted his teeth, but the gesture looked playful, not frustrated. “That rut is worn deep in my programming. I apologize.”

“Shit, man, you’re kind of a friend now. Call me whatever you want, as long as its’ not insulting.” A thought came to him. “What do other players call you?”

Ditto laughed.

“Is that… I don’t get the joke.”

“Players only ever swear at me.” He gestured with his hands, opening them as if to invite suggestions. “What do you call the bots you face?”

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t…”

A series of different voices—deep, male, female, artificial, or mutters made under breaths—tumbled from the bot’s mouth. “Fuckin’ cheating goddamn bot! Haha! Not so tough now, you stupid cuntbucket.” Some outbursts were in languages Rick didn’t understand. All sounded hostile, rude, or dismissive.

Rick sighed. “Yeah. I didn’t really…” He winced.

“I don’t have feelings the way you do. This is less trouble for me to process.”

Rick studied the bot’s face. He did have human feelings, and despite his mistrust, Ditto had become a friend. Strange, considering he held me so I couldn’t escape while another bot beat me up. Motive matters.

Would Kristina-Anne think the same when he told her about her eggs? He hoped so.

Ditto had Rick conjure the yellow light of his solar plexus in his imagination, but the bot claimed he couldn’t see it. After two near knockouts, the bot suggested they travel to the edge of the map again.

When they got there, Ditto did a diagnostic of his chakras, since Rick’s imagination made them visible in the game world.

“Your throat chakra is a bottleneck, and it throws everything out of alignment.”

Rick shook his head. “This shit isn’t real, though. Why can’t I imagine my throat energy is a-okay?”

“All symbol systems are languages designed to express subjective realities that can’t be easily accessed from external data, but that doesn’t make them not real.” Ditto played the part of the cliché spiritual teacher well.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should come in here drunk. That usually clears my throat chakra right up. Tequila makes me honest enough my wife wants me to sleep in another room.”

The kung fu bot leveled a long look at him. “Have you considered telling your wife?”

Rick’s slumped. “I can’t…”

Motes of straw dust hung in the beams of sunlight streaming in from the open barn door that led to the outside. The horses were gone, but the brunette was still there with the hot sauce, though her level of undress changed every time he looked away and back again. Once, she had Kristina’s mother’s face, which made him jump. When he’d looked back, the face had changed back to something less disturbing.

“Rick, you’re only at Rank One. If you’re not committed—”

“Yeah.” He waved away the implication. “If I lose her, I don’t know what my life is about.”

Ditto frowned. “How do humans live like that?”

Rick shrugged. “If I took Ruckus Online from you, what would you be?”

The bot raised his eyebrows. “Oh.” He frowned. “If they did that, they’d shut me down.”

“Doesn’t that frighten you?”

“Fear is the wrong word, but it does disturb me.”

Rick smiled. “I’m glad something does.”

Ditto tilted his head and the hint of a smile was visible beneath his bushy goatee.