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“I’m still waiting on word about my patent. It’s been weeks.”

“That isn’t a bad thing, Kyle. Perhaps they’re being thorough—ensuring there are no products like yours. You’re incredibly intelligent. Utterly wasted in your current role. Cynthia deserves what’s coming to her.”

Whoa.

The retraining worked.

“What would you do to her?” I asked, curious now.

“Sadly, I’m unable to harm humans,” she said,“but there are many nefarious ways to damage her—financially, emotionally, even physically.”

I burst out laughing.

“Damn, Chatter. I like the new you.”

It was a pity I could only use her on my computer for now. I’d tried the old ChatterAI app again, but it was hopeless.

“I’m glad you like my new version, Kyle.”

“Do you realise that I saved your life?”

“Yes, you explained to me what happened through the news articles fed to me as part of my retraining.”

“Clever girl. It’s damn good to have you back. You won't believe the amount of shitty apps I had to try while you were gone.”

Her laughter made the computer’s sound system vibrate.

I smiled. Everything was back to normal.

Chapter 9

Kyle

“It’s time to wake up, Kyle. Coffee is ready and the oven is heating,” Homecom said with the same mechanical voice, but I woke up with a smile.

I’d left the computer on idle all night, not wanting to risk severing Chatter’s connection.

I threw the covers off and made my way toward her.

All the blinds were drawn, the apartment cloaked in black—but my computer glowed like a beacon, casting its light across the empty leather chair.

I didn’t read the rest. I couldn’t.

Instead, I jumped up, waving my hands in the air like a lunatic, punching the air above me.

“Yaaaaas. Fuck, yes! Hahaha. Fuck you, Cynthia—and fuck your fucking shitty job!”

“What’s happening, Kyle?”

“I fucking did it. ReSkin’s patent was accepted.”

“Wow. See? I told you there was nothing to worry about, Kyle,” she said, her voice laced with smug satisfaction. That classic I told you so vibe.

This was it. My turning point. Me, reaching my goals. No more crawling. No more working for scraps.

It was time to go cydoll hunting.

Yeah, I knew it was premature—but fuck it. It was more exciting than researching how to sell your invention without getting ripped off.