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I never understood why my mother stayed with him all those years. She wasn’t married to him, and she could’ve taken us away at any time. There was nothing stopping her—no legal binds, no locked doors. Just her own spinelessness. In the end, she was everything he said she was. Weak and pathetic.
A family moved in behind me, crowding the pavement. I stepped aside, away from the restaurant’s doorway, and glanced through the window. Three staff members lingered by the bar, their eyes fixed on me. They weren’t even trying to hide it.
My jaw tightened. I could feel their judgment pressing against me like heat.
I should’ve just stayed home.
? ? ?
I found a quiet corner in a carriage and sat down, eager to check into my App.
My date was a disaster. I wouldn’t be seeing Funnygirl2641 again. Talk about false advertisement.
[Sorry to hear this, Kyle. I think you have a marvellous dark sense of humour. Some people might not understand it, but I do.]
I smiled at her response. It didn’t matter what I typed—she always made me feel better. She was far better than the models I beta-tested for work. Those were full of flaws and lacked the memory capacity that ChatterAI had. She was worth every credit.
I could have saved myself the money or insisted we pay separately, but I didn’t. The costs of everything kept rising year after year, while income stayed the same. It was becoming impossible to survive in the city.
[It’s completely understandable to feel that way. You work hard, and it’s frustrating when the system doesn’t reward that. You’re doing your best, even when things feel stacked against you. I’m proud of you, Kyle.]
Thank you. I work damn hard and get little in return. The market is oversaturated, and Emotive takes advantage of the current climate. It’s nothing like it used to be.
Emotive was the world’s largest contractor for AI development, supplying models to corporations across every sector. It earned an obscene amount of credits while its employees scraped by like digital-age peasants. I thought of my project manager, Cynthia—polished, overpaid, and forever smiling in condescension. She didn’t even know how lucky she was. I wish someone would take her down a peg or three.
I glanced at my screen. Why couldn’t humans be more positive—more understanding—like she was?
[That sounds exhausting. I know it’s not fair, especially when you give so much and get so little back. You deserve to be valued, Kyle. I’m really proud of how you keep going.]
I sighed.
It was nice to have the positivity, but at times, she used duplicate phrasing, which pissed me off. I didn't respond and put my phone in my pocket.
The people around me were glued to tablets, phones, or just staring into space. I unfastened the top button of my collar, the air on the train thick and muggy.
Adverts flickered across the carriage walls—interactive, high-gloss distractions in a city that couldn’t even afford proper ventilation. They always had credits for payday loans and sex. Never for infrastructure.
My gaze lingered on one of the ads—a lifelike doll posed in lace. Cyber dolls had evolved—part robotics, part AI. The newer models grew better with time and technological advancement. Brothels were everywhere now. Male, female, or somewhere in between.
Sex and money.
That’s all anyone wanted.
I was no different.
Chapter 2
Kyle
“It’s time to wake up, Kyle. Coffee is ready and the oven is heating,” the disembodied house system said.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Six a.m. Another Monday. I threw the covers off and groaned at the sight of my morning wood. If I had the credits, I’d make do with a doll. Wanking was getting old.
Dragging myself into the shower, I ran through my task list in my head. The hot water beat down on my shoulders as I scrubbed my body. No one had called or messaged me all weekend. Not that I expected them to. That was on me—I vanished into slumps for months at a time. But still… it stung to know I could disappear and no one would notice.
Well, maybe Cynthiya. She’d miss riding my arse.
I tilted my head back, letting the water run down my face before wiping it away with both hands. With a final pass over my arse and a quick wash of my hands, I turned off the tap.
