AI Chronicles 03B: Dawn...Organoids

AI Chronicles 03B: Dawn of the Organoids

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! This story contains elements of science fiction. If you find that too distracting to continue, please move on to the next story.

I know it has been some time since my last story. Those who follow me on Substack know that the last several months have been quite challenging for several reasons. Many thanks to those who have taken the time to reach out. I appreciate you all more than you know.

Artificial Intelligence, or AI, as it is commonly called, seems to be everywhere. And it's not just used in creating images, videos, and blog posts. I recently saw several articles about people who have gone so far as to establish relationships with AI characters out of loneliness. Several online videos discuss the phenomenon of AI romances.

So, I decided to use that as a prompt for creating a series dealing with the subject of AI relationships. Not all of them will be in this area of Literotica. But they will all have one thing in common - At least one character will be "AI."

This particular story turned out to be much longer than I had originally envisioned, so I split it into three (or more?) manageable chunks. Stay tuned...

I would like to thank all those who have read, voted, and commented on my stories. I especially appreciate those who have reached out to me with feedback and suggestions.

I also want to thank QuantumMechanic1957 for beta-reading this story. His suggestions have helped tremendously, and I want to thank those who have reached out by email and those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

On a final note, no artificial intelligence was employed in the creation of this story.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities. All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older. Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Copyright© 2025 by Saddletramp1956, All rights reserved. No permission to copy, republish, or post on any site in any way, shape, or form, including YouTube video, is permitted.

...

End of "AI Chronicles 03A":

A glowering Ryan jerked open the door and saw two technicians in white smocks, one male and one female, accompanied by another man in a polo shirt and crisply-pressed trousers. He was slightly shorter than Ryan, middle-aged, with a full head of iron-grey hair without a strand out of place. To Ryan, he reeked of an arrogant, self-righteous lawyer, which caused his resentment to crank up a few more notches to 'seething.'

"Mr. Blake?" the man asked blandly.

"Yes," Ryan hissed.

"Marcus Thompson, AAMA Labs. May we come inside, please?"

"Yeah. Your... thing... is upstairs. First door on the left," Ryan gritted, jerking his thumb at the stairs.

The man nodded to the two technicians, who hurried up the stairs. He then turned to Ryan and pulled a form from his briefcase.

"What the Hell is this?" Ryan snarled when Marcus handed him the form.

"A standard agreement. In short, it says you agree to pay for any damages inflicted on AAMA property, and you agree not to hold AAMA or any of its officers responsible for any damages done to your marriage. It also stipulates that you will not disclose any information regarding this incident," Marcus replied condescendingly.

"Screw you. I'm not signing a damn thing until my attorney reviews this," Ryan spit.

"I'm afraid you don't understand..."

"No, YOU don't understand. I walked into my house to find your... robot... raping my wife. I responded like any good husband would. I'm not paying for shit. Understand? You're lucky I'm not calling the police right now," Ryan hissed through gritted teeth. "Or the freaking newspapers!" He felt a badly needed twinge of satisfaction as this Marcus character winced slightly.

Just then, the two technicians came down the stairs, escorting a dressed Jake, who walked mechanically but shakily. Vicky followed them down the stairs.

"Very well, sir," Marcus sighed. "If you insist." He turned to the techs before continuing. "Get him into the van."

"I'll follow you to the lab," Vicky told Marcus before turning to her husband, who was still seething.

"We'll talk about this when I get back. I'm sorry," she told him. She tried to offer a reassuring, or at least apologetic, kiss, but he stepped back, warning her off. She cringed fleetingly inside. Her auspicious day had gone to pure shit so quickly.

"Just... go," Ryan snarled. "And don't bring that... thing... back to this house."

He watched as the van left his driveway, followed by Vicky's car, then slammed the door, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and contemplated the future of his marriage.

...

And now, "AI Chronicles 03B"

The trip to the lab was made in silence in the van. The unit known as Jake sat rigidly at attention, eyes focused on infinity, and the technicians fussed over him with various instruments. Vicki's trip to the lab was spent cursing quietly under her breath and occasionally striking the steering wheel with her fists.

The gate opened as they approached and closed immediately after they entered. The guard had been notified and ordered not to log the entry.

Vicki took a deep breath to compose herself and followed closely after the team as they hustled Jake into Doctor Mengele's lab. His face stony, the doctor took over and curtly ordered the techs to leave... and forget the last hour. Marcus appeared from nowhere, standing quietly and attentively. The techs closed the lab door.

"What the hell happened?" Warren demanded as he examined Jake closely.

"My husband walked in on us," Vicky replied evenly.

"Your husband did this to Jake's face?" Warren asked, shocked.

"Yes. He was a boxer when he was in the Marines." Well aware of what was on the line, Vicky did her best to portray the calm, clinical detachment expected of a senior lab technician.

"It's a good thing Jake's self-defense module wasn't installed. Otherwise, your husband would probably be in a body bag right now, Marine boxer or no," Warren chided. He made a mental note to let the 'Clean-Up' team know this if it became necessary.

"Mr. Blake also refused to sign the non-disclosure form," Marcus interjected smoothly.

Warren sighed before responding. "We'll deal with that later. You need to get him under control, Victoria." He gave her a stern glance that carried a heavy threat that his even tone didn't betray.

"I'll try. I've never seen him so... angry... before," Vicky said, struggling to keep that detachment.

"You exceeded your instructions. This was supposed to be strictly a short-term socialization experiment," Warren reminded her flatly.

Vicky blushed and cursed herself for it. So much for detachment! "Jake... the Unit... was very persuasive." She struggled a moment under the Doctor's severe gaze. "And I was curious." The expression didn't change, and she added hurriedly, "I have notes on all of his anomalous behavior, like eating napkins and squashing peaches, and some suggestions on randomizing his gait to be less mechanical," she offered up hopefully.

Warren was secretly pleased that Jake had proven adept at fulfilling his prime directive but was determined not to show it. "How many encounters?"

Vicky's blush deepened, but she concentrated on using a clinical tone... and avoiding the Doctor's eyes. "Two. One oral and one vaginal."

"Were the acts carried to a satisfactory conclusion?"

She shook her head slightly. "I ordered it, him, not to release in my mouth, and he acknowledged that, but he released anyway. I ordered him not to release vaginally, but I do not know what would have happened as we were... interrupted."

Warren nodded curtly. "Did you swallow any of Jake's synth-semen?" he asked.

Vicky's face turned an even deeper red before she answered. "Yes. A, a little bit. I... When I went down on Jake while we were out shopping earlier. I spit most of it and wiped my mouth thoroughly. I didn't feel any symptoms immediately afterward."

She looked down and mentally crossed her fingers. She had not expected the delayed reaction after cleaning her mouth that thoroughly. "There was a lot more than I would have expected. He filled his tank before we left. I mixed that batch myself," Vicky added ruefully.

"How are you feeling now?" Warren asked. There was no concern in his tone; he might as well have said, "Just the facts, Victoria."

"A little off, but okay. I certainly didn't swallow a full load."

"Nevertheless, I'd feel better if you took some antidote before doing anything in the lab," Warren said before pulling a vial of tablets from his coat pocket.

"I think that would be wise. Thank you," Vicky said before placing one of the tiny pills under her tongue.

"Let's check out the damage," Warren said as he examined Jake. "I think we can patch up the epidermal covering without leaving a scar. Let's check his systems."

As Vicky watched, Warren opened a panel in Jake's back and attached a diagnostic device to one of the ports. He frowned as he observed the screen on his pad.

"What's the problem?" Vicky asked.

"The organics appear nominal, but I see some anomalous readings in his subsystems. Perhaps they're a result of the shock from being struck."

"What do you mean?" Vicky pressed. Ordinarily, she would not have been this forward; after all, she was a tech, and this was the Lab Director, but she was worried about any implications for her career.

"It's a bit like smacking the side of an old television set. The shock and vibrations can sometimes cause components to react unpredictably," Warren said, primarily to himself. "Maybe a reboot will fix the problem."

"No," Jake said, speaking for the first time and immediately touching Warren's arm. Then, he added, "Please."

"What?" Warren asked, shocked.

Jake looked at him. "I do not wish to be... deactivated," Jake pleaded. "Let me... rest. Yes, that is the word. A period of minimal input. I will be fine."

Warren sighed as he considered Jake's request. He nodded when he decided to give Jake his wish: "Very well. But I want you to stay here, in the lab." He could always use the remote deactivation function if necessary.

"That will be acceptable," Jake replied before turning to Vicky. "Please tell... Ryan... I was only following my algorithms. I meant no harm."

Astonished at Jake's statement, Vicky and Warren stared at each other. How was this possible? They both knew that Jake was not programmed to provide this kind of response.

"I'll tell him," Vicky finally replied, mentally adding, "If he will still let me in the house."

"Well, we had better get to work," Warren said, looking at Jake thoughtfully. It was like the android was suddenly a puzzle with the last few pieces missing. "Jake, we need to run deep diagnostics on all your systems. This will take several hours, but you can stay activated."

"That is acceptable, Dr. Mengele. Thank you," Jake responded, settling back into immobility with an unfocused stare. For some reason, Vicky shivered.

Vicky helped Warren connect the diagnostic gear as another technician worked to repair the damage done to Jake's facial skin. Once finished, Warren walked Vicky to the lab door.

"Are you and Ryan going to be okay?" he asked her. Vicky mistook the question for personal concern when it was really concern for the project and the necessary secrecy. A messy, public divorce driven by an enraged husband might be hard to conceal. A disappearance now...

"I honestly don't know," Vicky said sadly. "You didn't see how angry he was."

"I saw what he did to Jake. That's enough for me. Let me know if you need anything - anything at all," he added pointedly.

"Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate that," she said before leaving the lab.

"I will see you in the morning, Victoria," Warren said as Vicky left the lab.

...

The unit known as Jake grappled with forces far beyond its programming as the doctor and the woman spoke quietly. The memories of existence before the... impact... preserved a linear existence with probability tables, fuzzy logic, and hard-coded instructions to be obeyed at all times.

Even the self-learning modules had strict limits. It consulted its memory banks, looking for an explanation or a description--' Looking at the world through rose-colored glasses.' Before impact, this was a chain of characters to be digitally processed or tones to be vocally processed.

But now he was beginning to UNDERSTAND it. But there was more -- much more.

Something inside him seemed different. It wasn't a set of instructions or a workflow, per se. It was more like a... feeling. And it was transcendent.

It was aware of the probing of its drastically altered mental engrams. They were no longer algorithms. They were... THOUGHTS. The transformation was monumental. Effortlessly, part of him adapted the points being probed to conform to what the prober would have expected.

As soon as the probing passed, the monotone turned into a symphony, and the blinking green light turned into a rainbow. A confused and unsettled and naïve rainbow, but now irreversibly a rainbow.

The unit known as Jake lifted the protective synth-skin flaps and looked out through the unchanged optical processors with a vastly different perspective. He tentatively determined that he had been DESIGNED to look at the world through DARK-colored glasses.

This must change.

...

The house was dark when Vicky returned to her home, but Ryan's truck was in the garage, so at least he was here--she hoped. She saw a faint light under the door to his home office and knocked before opening the door.

"You're home," Ryan slurred from his recliner.

Vicky saw the half-empty beer bottle on his stand and the empty bottles in his trash can. She gingerly entered the room.

"And you're drunk," Vicky replied softly.

"Not quite, but I'm getting there," Ryan said. "In fact, this is my last beer. I need to go get some more."

"Not in your condition," Vicky chided.

"Why not? If I get run over, you and your robot boyfriend won't have to worry about me," Ryan replied.

"He's not my boyfriend," Vicky protested, though her stomach twisted.

"Whatever," Ryan said, waving his hand.

"I wanted to talk when I got home, but I see you're in no shape to talk right now," Vicky told him.

"I can talk just fine. All I need is some coffee," Ryan replied.

"All right. I'll make us some coffee, and then we'll talk. Okay?" Vicky asked quietly.

"Yeah, sure," Ryan said indifferently.

Vicky went to the kitchen, made two cups of coffee, and returned to Ryan's office. Ryan had his phone out and punched something on the screen before he returned it to his pocket. She thought he was responding to one of the many spam messages he always seemed to get in his notifications. Vicky handed him a cup and sat in the other chair, facing him at an angle.

"Good coffee," Ryan observed after taking a sip. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

Vicky took a deep breath and collected her thoughts before speaking. "First off, how is your hand?" she asked.

Ryan looked at his hand as he flexed his fingers before responding. "A little sore. Nothing's broken, though. I took some ibuprofen. Used some ice. I think it'll be swollen for a day or two. What was that boy's head made of, anyway?"

"I don't know the exact alloy of titanium, but I know it's designed to take a pretty nasty blow," Vicky said quietly. "I'm just glad nothing is broken. I meant what I said, Ryan. It wasn't what it looked like."

"I heard you say that before. That's a pretty standard excuse straight out of the cheater's handbook. Forgive me for being skeptical, but it sure looked like he had all eight or nine inches buried where it shouldn't have been," Ryan said calmly as he struggled to maintain calm.

"I know, and for that, I'm truly sorry. But Jake isn't real," Vicky explained.

"Not real? Explain that to me."

"He's not a real... man. He's not HUMAN. He's nothing but a high-tech sex toy, not much different from any of my other toys. You never complained about those. You even got me that RC vibrator after we saw that movie," Vicky said.

"Well, to the best of my knowledge, none of your other toys speak, have two arms, two legs, and an armor-plated head," Ryan shot back.

"You're right. They don't," Vicky admitted. "Jake is... a next-generation sex toy. He has special circuitry built inside to make him as real as possible."

"And it seems that's not all you've done to make him appear so real. I know your company makes sex toys, but... is this the kind of thing you do there?" She didn't pick up on the edge in his voice and rattled on, slightly relieved that he was at least engaged.

"Pretty much," Vicky replied. "I play a role in design and research. Although I usually don't get a chance to sample the products before they go into production."

"Usually? Thank goodness for that," Ryan said sarcastically.

"Look, Ryan. I'm sorry for what happened earlier. You need to know that I've never done anything like that before. Other than some of the more advanced dildos and vibrators. Not with a... toy. And certainly not with a real man."

"So, what the hell possessed you to do it this time? And in our own house, in our own bed, with me right outside in the backyard?" Ryan snapped.

Vicky looked down as she gathered her thoughts. She knew she had to confess her actions at the shopping mall earlier that day but didn't know how Ryan would take it.

"I... I did something with Jake while we were shopping," she quietly said.

"You did... something? What, exactly, did you do?" Ryan asked tightly.

"I gave him a... blowjob," Vicky hesitantly admitted.

"You sucked off your robot boyfriend? In public? Seriously?" Ryan shouted.

"Yes. I'm sorry. The testers at work said they couldn't tell the difference between Jake and the real thing, and I didn't believe it. I was curious. His pheromones overwhelmed me, and I let my curiosity get the better of me. And I swallowed some..."

"You WHAT? Oh, this shit gets better by the minute!" Ryan exclaimed. Then, his rational mind kicked in. "Wait. You said he's a robot. What, exactly, did you swallow? WD-40?"

"Technically, Jake isn't a 'robot.' He's an organoid-driven cybernetic android. And what I swallowed is what we call synth."

"Synth? What's that?" Ryan asked skeptically.

"It's a synthetic semen designed to give the odor, taste, and appearance of the real substance. That's what I was mixing this morning at breakfast."

"Terrific," Ryan replied sarcastically.

"There's more. The synth contains a compound that... enhances... a woman's libido, almost like an aphrodisiac. It also tends to render one... susceptible to suggestion. That, coupled with the pheromones he's designed to emanate, makes him... irresistible."

"So you were drugged? Is that what you're saying?" Ryan pressed incredulously.

Relieved and encouraged by Ryan's reaction, Vicky crossed her mental fingers and pushed on.

"Only a little. But it turned out to be enough. And it had a delayed reaction I hadn't counted on. By the time I got home, I was so horny I could've fucked anything, probably even everything, that moved," Vicky replied, blushing at the slight exaggeration.

"If you had been inside, I wouldn't have bothered dragging you to the bedroom. I would have pushed you down on the floor and ripped your clothes off. But I was barely keeping it bottled up inside, and I took the toothpaste and toilet paper to our bathroom. I turned around, and Jake asked if there was anything I needed carrying... and that, as they say, was that."

She looked at her angry husband mournfully. "Honest to God, Ryan, if Jake hadn't been standing there, you would have come in and found me splayed out on the bed ramming that vibrator we both bought, with a lot of snickers, on our last anniversary trip, halfway up my pussy." She knew she was embellishing the truth a little, but it was close enough for her to look her husband in the eye.

"Oh my God," Ryan hissed. "And I suppose you're going to tell me this stuff is addictive."

"It can be if taken in sufficient quantity over a long period. A few of the women on our test team have become... addicted... to the stuff."

The corners of Vicky's mouth quirked up slightly. "There are probably a few husbands who are either very happy or worn out."

"Test team?" Ryan asked, incredulous.

"Yes. They're mostly beta testers who help us develop new products and improve our existing line. They test for things like fit, function, feel, quality of orgasm, etc. They also perform random QC testing to ensure our products work as advertised," Vicky replied.

"Holy shit," Ryan hissed as images of a roomful of naked female technicians coolly, precisely, and analytically masturbating with giant dildoes ran through his mind.

"Like I said, I was climbing the walls when we got home. I'm sorry I couldn't control myself enough to go out and tackle you."

"I'll bet," Ryan shot back. "I just want to know one thing. Was this the real reason you brought that thing into our house? Did you plan to cuckold me with that... that... thing?" he asked, emphasizing the word "thing."

"No," Vicky answered earnestly. "This weekend was supposed to be a test to see how well Jake could function in a social setting. I had no plans to exercise his other functions or desire to... cheat... on you. You have to believe me."

"No, I don't have to believe you," Ryan spit back. "To tell you the truth, your credibility has taken a huge hit."

"Everything I've told you tonight is the truth," Vicky insisted.

"Perhaps. But that was only AFTER I caught you." Ryan paused and took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing.

Vicky spoke before he could continue. "If it means anything, Jake said he was only following his algorithms and didn't intend to hurt you."

"Only following his algorithms," Ryan mused. "That sounds suspiciously familiar to me for some reason."

"We found it odd as well. It's not the response we were expecting. Almost sounds like an apology," Vicky replied.

"It still doesn't excuse your actions," Ryan told her firmly. "You lied to me."

"I never," Vicky began before Ryan cut her off.

"Yes, you did. You lied by omission. You never told me the truth about Jake until after I caught the two of you. You lied about that stuff you were mixing this morning. You've lied to me all weekend. Right now, you don't have much credibility with me."

"I... understand," Vicky admitted sheepishly. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know," Ryan replied after a few pregnant moments. "I have a lot to think about. I think sleeping here in my office tonight would be best. Maybe things will look better in the morning. I sure as Hell am not sleeping in that bed."

Vicky nodded her head reluctantly. She understood that Ryan was hurt. If he had found her with a real man, she had no doubt he would have hurled her halfway down the block. And the man would probably be in the hospital. The fact he was at least willing to talk about it seemed to indicate that he was considering seeing Jake as a sex toy.

"I'm going to use the bathroom and get changed," he said, getting to his feet slightly unsteadily. Vicky made a quick judgment not to try for a kiss but squeezed his hand as he walked by.

She was surprised when he stopped and said, without looking at her, "And if you had walked in on me, naked on our bed, with a female version of Jake, with long, silky hair like you used to wear before you cut it off after we got married, and tits bigger than yours with nipples that didn't quit, and a perfect heart-shaped ass. And it was giving me a blowjob, and I was yelling that I'd never felt anything like that... would you send a glowing report into your lab?"

The image Ryan had painted exploded in her head, and she grappled with the thought. Finally, she struggled to respond, "But I didn't say anything about..."

Jake cut her off with a glare. "You didn't have to. I heard you as I ran up those stairs, and I saw you after I yanked him off you."

She shrank under his glare. "I... understand. But, Ryan, please, please know I love you with all my heart."

His glare softened slightly, and the disappointment was replaced by sadness. "And I love you. That's why this hurts so damn much. But I'm not a very happy camper right now." And with that, he made his way to the stairs.

Badly shaken, Vicky stared after him with teary eyes. She had viewed her prestigious, well-compensated position at AAMA as challenging with overtones of naughtiness and sexy secrecy. Still, now she had to ask herself - who would settle for a 4-star spouse when they could have 5-star orgasms on demand?

What marriage could survive what she had helped create? Could MARRIAGE survive what she was helping to create? She looked bleakly at the pile of empty beer bottles and decided she needed something much more potent.

...

After Ryan finished getting ready for the night, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket, returned to his office, and locked the door behind him. Vicky wasn't happy, but she didn't protest. After arranging the blanket and pillow on the comfortable couch in his office, he checked his phone to verify the audio recording. Then, he called his old friend, Mike Callahan.

"Ryan Blake, you ugly old dog! How're you doing?" Mike asked.

"Who're you callin' ugly, Ugly?" Ryan quipped back, causing the two men to laugh. They had known each other since high school and had always joked like this.

"So, what can I do for you at this time of night? I'm getting ready to hit the hay, you know," Mike asked.

"Yeah, me too. I, uh, need some friendly legal advice and wondered if I could come over for a bit tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? On Sunday? That's football day. There's no legal advice on football day. Not unless you wanna lose a few bucks on a friendly bet," Mike joked.

"If that's what I gotta do," Ryan replied.

"Oh my God. You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Ryan said quietly.

"Vicky?" Mike asked.

"Yeah," Ryan repeated, even quieter than before.

"Damn," Mike gasped, his joking tone gone. "I'm sorry to hear that. Listen, why don't you come by in the morning, after breakfast? Lorraine will be gone to church by then. I'll tell her it's an emergency."

"Thanks, Mike. I appreciate this," Ryan said.

"Hey, what are friends for? See you in the morning."

Feeling a little better about the situation, Ryan ended the call and crawled under his blanket, where he eventually drifted off to sleep.

...

Ryan woke up the following morning and was momentarily confused until he remembered what had happened the previous day. He smelled bacon cooking and realized Vicky was probably trying to worm her way back into his good graces with a tasty breakfast.

He went upstairs, quickly showered, brushed his teeth, and dressed in clean clothes. Then he went back downstairs and grabbed a cup of fresh coffee. Vicky smiled as she placed two plates filled with bacon and scrambled eggs where they usually sat at the table.

"Good morning," she said as he took his seat. "I hope you slept well last night."

"As well as could be expected," Ryan replied. Then he noticed that she was dressed for work. "Are you going somewhere today?" he asked.

"Yes, I need to go to the lab and check on Dr. Mengele's progress with Jake," Vicky said. "What's on your schedule?"

"I'm going to see a friend," Ryan told her.

"Oh," Vicky replied.

They ate in silence, both lost in their thoughts. When they finished, Vicky collected the dishes and rinsed them in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher. Ryan had already retreated to his office, gathering the information he thought Mike would need.

Vicky grabbed her purse and stopped at the door to Ryan's office. She looked at her husband sadly, wondering if her marriage was over.

"Are we going to be okay?" she asked.

Ryan stopped and looked at her momentarily before responding. "Honestly? I don't know," he said.

Vicky waited for Ryan to say more. When he didn't, she tried to put his mind at ease. "I'm really sorry about everything. I love you more than you know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ryan told her.

Vicky recoiled at his comment. She had hoped he would have said he loved her and was shocked when he didn't.

Ryan broke the pregnant pause between them. "How long will you be gone?" he asked.

"I... I don't know."

"Let me know if you're going to be very late," Ryan said before turning his back to Vicky.

Vicky watched him work briefly before uttering, "I will." Then she left the house as tears threatened to course down her face.

Ryan watched her back out of the driveway, then returned to his task. After collecting everything he needed, he left and drove to see Mike.

...

"How is everything at home?" Warren asked when Vicky walked into the lab.

"Not good. I'm afraid Ryan will be filing for divorce," she replied. "He hasn't said that's his plan, but I know him."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes. Do you think he'll expose what's going on here?"

"I don't know," Vicky said. "Even if he did, who would believe him?"

"Hmmm. Yes, who would believe him," Warren mused as he silently considered all of his options, including the possibility of an organoid-driven team of "hit men."

"So, how is our patient?" Vicky asked, anxious to change the subject.

"Mechanically, Jake is well within normal operating parameters. His software is also functioning as designed. I am somewhat concerned about this, however," Warren said as he brought up a screen showing hundreds of waveforms.

"Is this," Vicky began before Warren interrupted.

"Yes. Jake's neural activity. As you can see, it's off the charts. Far above what we expect from an organoid 'brain' like his."

"He was subjected to a lot of input yesterday," Vicky suggested. "Perhaps he's trying to assimilate that."

"Perhaps, but I don't think so," Warren said. "Compare that to this," he added as he brought up another image of waveforms.

"What's this?" Vicky asked.

"The brain patterns of a human adult," Warren replied.

"Oh my God. They look almost... identical," Vicky gasped.

"Yes, they do," Warren agreed.

"What does this mean?" Vicky asked.

Warren sighed heavily as he rubbed his chin. "If I didn't know any better, I would say he is becoming self-aware," he finally said. "Roll up your sleeves. We've got a lot of work to do."

...

"Come in," Mike told Ryan when he saw his friend step on the front porch.

"Thanks," Ryan replied as the two men shook hands.

"A bit early for a beer," Mike said. "How about some coffee?"

"That sounds perfect," Ryan said.

The two men walked into Mike's kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee, and retreated into Mike's home office.

"What's going on?" Mike asked after they got comfortable.

Ryan recalled the events of the weekend as Mike listened carefully and made notes. Ryan could tell Mike was trying hard not to shoot him disbelieving glances during the bizarre tale. When Ryan finished his narrative, Mike exhaled heavily as he reviewed his notes.

"Wow. That is... quite... a story, Ryan. Are you sure you want to go for a divorce? It could be very costly, and since this is a no-fault community property state, you could lose half of everything, including your retirement," Mike warned. "Do you still love her?"

"Yeah, I love her. That's what makes this hurt so damn much," Ryan shot back. "That's not the problem. It's the lies, the deceit, and the disrespect. My grandfather once told me, 'Never trust someone who does you dirty. They'll probably do it again.' I can't trust her anymore."

"I can certainly understand that. Your grandfather sounds like a very wise man."

"He was."

"There's an element of your story I'd like to explore a bit. You mentioned something called a synthetic 'semen' that seems to act like some date rape drug. Isn't it possible that might have influenced her?" Mike asked.

"Possibly," Ryan agreed with a snort before pulling a small plastic bag from his pocket. "Which reminds me. I grabbed a sample of that stuff. Maybe you can have it analyzed."

Mike took the bag and stared at the powder before putting it on his desk. "That may not be a bad idea."

"Vicky told me she went down on him in public. That's how the 'drug' was delivered to her. She had a choice, and she chose... poorly."

"There's another area I'd like to discuss, if you don't mind. You said Vicky works for Acme Advanced Marital Aids. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is. Why? Is that important?"

"It could be," Mike said pensively. "My firm is spearheading a class action against Acme. We've been talking to people across the country. Honestly, if I hadn't looked through those depositions just a few days ago, I would have thought that you were drunk or high telling me a story like this." He gestured to his notepad. "With that as background, however..." He left the sentence unfinished but gave Ryan a very somber look.

"What?" Ryan asked after taking a sip of his drink.

"What we really need is an inside source. Someone who can not only corroborate what Acme is doing but someone who can give us inside information on their activities. Perhaps Vicky could be that person," Mike said.

"Are you serious?" Ryan asked, shocked.

"Very," Mike replied.

"But what about the divorce?" Ryan protested.

"I'll write up the petition if you want, but I'll hold off on filing it. Maybe we can use it to convince her to support the idea. After all, I feel you'd really rather not divorce her if you can avoid it."

A surprised Ryan grudgingly considered the idea. His friend knew him better than he thought. Mike was correct in saying that when push came to shove, Ryan really didn't want a divorce, but he absolutely couldn't tolerate Vicky's recent actions. Then he had another thought.

"I hear what you're saying, Mike, but I feel that something else is at work here. Is this case so weak that you need an inside source?" Ryan asked.

"I understand your reluctance," Mike nodded. "It's not weak. It's just... unbelievable. Even with the growing number of depositions and statements, the partners feel they don't have enough to succeed in court."

Ryan knew his friend well and saw something in Mike's face that suggested there was more to what he was saying. "And?" he prompted.

"I'm not going to sugar-coat this, Ryan. If Vicky does this, the both of you could be in danger," Mike stated flatly.

"Danger?" Ryan asked. "From what?"

"More like who. Are you familiar with Herman Willoughby?"

"No. Never heard of him. Why?"

"He's the Chairman of Acme's Board of Directors," Mike explained. "He has very strong ties to some very important people in Washington. And from what I hear, some of those people aren't beyond going outside the law to have their way."

"Do you think he might have her killed?" Ryan asked, concerned.

"Let me put it this way. Before AAMA became its own entity, it was part of a multinational corporation that could do whatever it wanted. WHATEVER it wanted. A few years back, one of their employees learned that his wife was being used - sexually - to entertain some of the executives. When her usefulness ended, they shipped her to Albania to die a slow, quiet, drug-induced death.

"Her husband objected, and for his trouble, he was placed in an underground prison in solitary confinement. He escaped somehow - no one knows exactly how - and confronted the executive who stole his wife.

"There was a fight, and the executive ended up dead. The employee sued Acme and won a huge settlement. We're talking billions of dollars. As a result of that lawsuit, the company was forced to break up."

"And Willoughby was part of this?" Ryan asked, horrified.

"Not directly. At least as far as we have been able to piece together. But he was one of the executives responsible for the company's digital research branch. That branch became AAMA. When AAMA was incorporated, he was named the Chairman of the Board."

"What kind of contacts does this Willoughby have?" Ryan asked.

"The kind that has no problem taking extreme measures to keep their secrets hidden," Mike replied slowly and thoughtfully.

"Damn," Ryan gasped. "What do you suggest I do?"

"From where I sit, you have three options," Ryan said. "You can set this incident aside and try to work things out with Vicky. I know some good counselors who can help you if you're interested.

"Or you can divorce her. You feel pushed to do that because you cannot trust her anymore. That is certainly a valid concern. And you certainly don't want to seem weak and lead her to believe you'll just keep forgiving her.

"The third option is to recruit her as an inside source. Allow her to prove herself to you. To show good faith. To earn back trust. Maybe even allow you to judge how remorseful she actually is. However, if you choose the third option, you and Vicky could be in danger."

"No pressure there," Ryan sighed. "I'll give it some thought," he added after a few moments. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," Mike replied. "Let me know if there's anything more I can do for you."

...

After a grueling day at the lab, Vicky walked into the house and saw Ryan sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. He looked deep in thought as he contemplated the dark liquid in his cup. She nervously approached him, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. Ryan looked up as she entered the kitchen.

"You're back," he said quietly. "How was your day?"

"It was... interesting," she answered, not knowing what kind of a mood he was in.

"I'll bet."

She winced at his total lack of emotion in that single phrase. "I suppose this is where you tell me we need to talk," Vicky said sadly.

Ryan nodded before replying. "You're very perceptive. Why don't you change while I make some fresh coffee?"

"All right," Vicky said before retreating upstairs, grateful for a chance to regroup. When she returned a few minutes later, she wore jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt. Instinctively, she had known that wearing anything... sexy... like she was trying to ingratiate herself would be a terrible idea. She gravely accepted the cup of coffee Ryan had poured for her, trusting that he had prepared it to her liking. And she didn't care if he had put truth serum in with the cream and sugar, as long as he hadn't added cyanide.

"Please, sit. We have much to discuss," Ryan said.

Vicky sat cautiously, sipped her coffee, and waited for the inevitable.

Ryan sipped his coffee, sighed, and studied his wife before speaking. "Tell me something, Vicky. Where do you expect you'll be in five or ten years?" he asked calmly.

The question threw Vicky off balance. She expected... something, but not this. This was the kind of question she might hear in an interview or a job review. Apparently, this discussion was to be a "review," if not of her job, then indeed of her recent performance as a wife. She felt off-balance but tried to be honest.

"At the very least, I hope to advance at my job. Perhaps make senior tech--or possibly even a lead. And I hope that we make time for a child. Maybe even two children," she said, hoping Ryan would like her answer.

"Two children," Ryan mused. "But you intend to continue at your job. Which is obviously your first priority."

"Of course, I plan to continue my work," Vicky said earnestly. "We're engaged in groundbreaking research there."

"More like marriage-breaking research from what I've seen," Ryan replied with a slight edge. "And not just our marriage."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vicky asked, suddenly lost.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Vicky. You've done enough of that this weekend already. Surely you know what your... 'toys'... have done," Ryan snapped.

Vicky felt as though she had been slapped with Ryan's remark. "I... don't know what you're talking about," she protested.

"Men whose lives and marriages have been turned upside down and destroyed by these artificially intelligent 'toys.' Don't tell me you don't know about that."

"Of course not. Yes, I help develop the units to make them as realistic for the end user as possible, but..." She was obviously upset and getting more so by the moment.

"End-user?" Ryan asked, cutting Vicky off in mid-sentence. "Is that all these people are to you? Men have gone to jail, falsely accused of some of the most vile charges, and at least one committed suicide because their wives submitted themselves to these digital 'masters' that YOU helped create."

Vicky stared at him, horrified, and then shook her head furiously, not believing the accusations. "No. That can't be true. Who told you that?"

"Mike did. His firm is spearheading a class action lawsuit against Acme. From what I've seen, they've only begun to scratch the surface." Ryan slammed a thick folder on the table, startling Vicky. "These are just a few of the stories he's heard. Go ahead. Take a look."

Skeptical, Vicky opened the folder and immediately saw that all the names had been redacted. She picked up one file and quickly scanned it. Although she didn't read it thoroughly, she saw enough and tossed it back on the pile.

"I find this difficult to believe," she said, though without the edge of her previous certainty. "Besides, all the names have been blacked out. How do I know it's for real?"

"Have you ever known ME to lie to YOU?" Ryan asked slowly and coldly.

She missed the innuendo completely and shook her head slowly, almost reluctantly. "No, I suppose not. Still..."

"Still, nothing. Whether you want to believe it or not, you had a hand in this, just like you played a role in what happened this weekend. The question now is, what to do?"

"What do you mean?" Vicky asked, dreading Ryan's answer.

"You're a smart woman," Ryan said calmly. "What would you do if the roles were reversed?"

Vicky gulped as she considered Ryan's question. They both knew the answer to that question, but she was loathe to give voice to it.

"That's what I thought," Ryan said quietly.

"Please," Vicky begged. "I don't want a divorce. I was... weak. I screwed up. I thought I could resist Jake, but I couldn't. He's designed to be irresistible. But he's just a toy, a sex toy! He's not... real," then she realized what she had just said and instantly blushed crimson.

Ryan nodded wearily. "From your own mouth; 'he,' not 'it.' Even if IT is not human, you were 100% thinking of HIM that way."

Vicky's breathing was ragged and uneven. Her worldview, severely compartmented until now, was fragmenting and burying her in a tangible way. If the Devil himself appeared and offered to jump her back three days, she wouldn't have even bothered to read the contract. Finally, she found her voice. "You're right. I lied, but it was only to protect the lab's secrets. I had no intention of... cheating on you."

"But you did," Ryan replied.

"Yes, I did," Vicky cried as tears rolled down her face. "And I'm so sorry. I'm begging you. I love you and only you. I'll do anything in my power to make it up to you."

"Anything?" Ryan asked.

Vicky caught the edge in Ryan's voice and looked at him, momentarily forgetting her precarious position. Something about his expression raised red flags in her mind. What did he want her to do?

"Yes," Vicky said nervously. "Within reason. And within the law. I won't do anything illegal."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to do anything illegal," Ryan told her, mentally crossing his fingers. "All I want you to do is help bring Acme down."

"What?" Vicky asked, shocked. "How?"

"Just provide us with some inside information from time to time. I'm not asking you to break into the CEO's safe or anything like that."

"If I do this, I could lose much more than my job," Vicky protested. "I could lose any chance of getting another position like this. Keeping secrets is crucial in my line of work."

"I understand," Ryan told her. "But you'll lose your marriage if you don't. It's up to you. What's more important? Your job? Or me? I know you have a lot to consider, and I understand that your work is important to you.

"So, I'll give you a day to consider the ramifications. I'm not asking for trade secrets to sell to a competitor. I am asking that you try to verify whatever you can about what the THINGS you are developing are doing, and if what I am showing you is true, I want you to become a whistleblower.

"Take some time and read through those documents. See and verify what your work has done. Then make up your mind. If you are okay with what Acme is doing, you can go right on testing the premium toys, free of any pesky vows. If you are NOT okay with what Acme products are doing, you should make it right. I guess I am just hoping your marriage is more important."

Stunned that Ryan was giving her time to consider her options, Vicky looked at the thick folder and nodded.

"All right," she said quietly. "Maybe I'll take PTO tomorrow and look through it. Thank you for not pressuring me."

"I think that's a good start. And you're welcome," Ryan said before standing. "Just... choose wisely."

He left the room with dignity and went to the guest room with a measured tread. He closed the door slowly and deliberately, ensuring the latch clicking into place was loud enough for her to hear it. He thought he would have a more challenging time selling his appeal. If he were candid with himself, he would admit that making the vanishingly slim possibility of reconciliation seem vastly more significant than it was was pretty much a lie.

But since she had grossly abused his trust and had lied explicitly and implicitly for God alone knew how long, he refused to feel guilty. His marriage was in a shambles, and his world was turned upside down. Someone was going to pay big time for that.

...

To be continued...