NOTHING IN THE DARKNESS

Welcome to my library. My philosophy as a writer is simple: content, whether it's a script, an article, or a novel, must have soul. In my stories, you won't find clichés or one-dimensional characters. I specialize in deep psychology, lively dialogue, and creating immersive worlds where every detail counts. If you're looking for a psychological thriller that will keep you up until dawn or science fiction that challenges your mind, this is the place for you.

Every book I write is a testament to my ability to give a character a unique voice and create a consistent tone, which is fundamental to storytelling. If you like the way my characters speak and the fluidity of my plots, you can imagine the impact I can have on your own brand's content. Contact me!



 

INTRODUCTION

   

My life... I would say I was happy. I never knew my mother; Mom was a vague idea with a long dress and a peaceful smile; she visited me sometimes in book illustrations and in anecdotes of my father. She died giving birth to me. Dad was the cowboy who comes to save you whenever things are bad and then rides off to the horizon. Yeah, he was my hero. And me... I don't know. I never felt like I was the protagonist of my own life. It was like I was looking at the world through a screen, everyone else was acting and my role was that of a spectator.

There was a time when I would often close my eyes and imagine that I was a leaf falling from a tree along with my peers and we would rest in complete peace until the next breeze blew. A blissful inevitable destiny that would suddenly lift us in flight to take us far away. Perhaps to a palace garden, to a river that would sweep me to a warm exotic beach.

I was a leaf, serene, waiting for the breeze. I liked it.

I would lie on the grass next to Rien, my best friend, and tell him to be quiet. I didn't explain why, I never felt it necessary to give or ask for explanations. Life for me was a personal experience, something between you and the universe, my father used to say that everything was possible if you wanted it with all your might; and I believed it. I never knew... I never knew what I wanted exactly, throughout my existence I only lived in the present; I imagined that one day and as if by magic something great would happen to me just because I was good and I deserved it.

The first one to criticize my daydream was Rien, he said it was silly, but I didn't pay much attention to him. He's practically my brother and brothers always say things to annoy you, what's wrong with being optimistic? Patience and optimism, nature is wise.

But then...as time went on, life taught me that serendipities in the breeze don't exist; in fact, the opposite is usually true. It is not happiness that is inevitable, but sadness, pain. When you understand this reality, it is as if you are disarmed. I don't feel incomplete, or empty, it's just....

Is this what it's like to be broken?

        

  

ABOUT MY CHILDHOOD YEARS AND RIEN


The event happened in 209X, my name is Joyce, I was twenty-one years old at the time. Sometimes I have to remind myself who I am. Then I feel good. It's like I reset myself, this didn't happen to me before. I guess I didn't need to then, in the beginning everything was simple and happy.

My father was a wealthy activist leader who fought against the abuses of transhumanism in technology, which in recent decades has become obsessed with the perfection of human beings even at the cost of altering their nature. Faced with the threat of seeing the essence of man irremediably corrupted, as more and more families decide to genetically modify their children to "improve" them, my father and other idealists joined together to live in a neighborhood on the outskirts of a big city where people without improvements were guaranteed not to suffer rejection; since over time being a "Natural" has become synonymous with ignorance and poverty.

There we lived isolated from the rest of the world, like the religious sects that centuries ago secluded themselves in communes away from the sinful outside, we locked ourselves in a dream bubble where no one needed body implants or genetic manipulation. Sometimes we ventured beyond our territories and I looked upon the Modifieds as fiendish creatures. Their porcelain textured skins, satiny hair and black scleral eyes with red pupils like glowing coals made me think they were dolls; synthetic beings I could hate without remorse.

It was what my father had taught me, everyone in my neighborhood thought that way.

In that neighborhood there was only one other kid my age, Rien, who arrived when he was about four years old. He was characterized by his pallor, his glasses and being scary. They said he was adopted, that his parents were our allies and had been lynched to death in some riots due to religious wars, that they had brought him from France where everyone was starving, I didn't want to ask any more questions. He never spoke and spent the whole day hugging an old teddy bear. That used to annoy me, because I would ask him to play and he would ignore me.

He had a nasty habit of taking puppies and hugging them tightly until they died. He was punished, but he kept doing it. One day he finally noticed me, I invited him to stay and play in my yard as an excuse for my father to buy me a swing that I was supposed to share with him and Rien reacted by hugging me in violent gratitude. It wasn't long before I broke a rib. After the scare, and since it was impossible to get him to let go of me, my father proposed that he sleep at my house. Since he didn't kill me and eventually stopped suffocating me, we became friends.

My relationship with him was very close, although I knew that Rien was a "half" modified child. His biological parents were not "Natural" and he, although he did not have the surgical alterations such as the horrible red eyes, had inherited their enhanced genes. He had that perfect skin and hair, he was a pretty boy, it made me jealous that he was always the one getting compliments on his looks while I was only complimented for being my father's daughter, but for several years that wasn't a big deal. I never felt any different from me until one day, when we were eleven years old and a woman surprised us when Rien was killing squirrels in the grove. Her fancy clothes and unnatural appearance disgusted me, Rien looked at her waiting for her to tell us something. Perhaps she reminded him of his mother, who certainly must have been similar. The stranger addressed only him, speaking to him with a certain maternal compassion:

–You shouldn't play with that girl, my child. Her people are opposed to science and development. A person who refuses to think is nothing but an animal.

I felt the blood in my face boil, it was as if I didn't exist for her. She didn't care at all about speaking that way in front of me, as if the effect of her words on my emotions was not something execrable. After she left, I complained to Rien for not defending me from the offensive opinions of that woman and he only reminded me that we did the same with them; that it was fair to receive the same treatment we gave to others. That was one of those moments when I disliked Rien, it happened often; it was the reason that prompted me to throw balls straight at his head when he was distracted, to put ants in his underpants if he was careless or to eat the filling of his cookies without asking his permission or warning him.

I knew that "people outside" said that my father was a foolish man who was against the controlled evolution of the human species, but I didn't care until that day. Then I understood: Rien was "superior" to me in the eyes of the majority; even though my father was the leader of our small community and said that he and I were equal. For the first time I felt resentment...

I hate to accept that I directed it at Rien, even though he had never done anything to me and was already part of my own family. The docile, shy, silent friend that all unfeminine girls have. He accepted my tyrannical attitude, my practical jokes and my bad moods with infinite patience, I think it was obvious that like all such friends he was secretly in love with me, but I was never the somewhat girl who was romantic or perceptive to other people's feelings. When it was explained to us what having a penis and a vagina was for, and our hormones began to awaken, I found a new use for Rien; but I didn't go beyond that. He was my best friend and I occasionally teased him.

Our differences reached a breaking point as we became teenagers, Rien became distant and cold. He had secrets that he dared not confess even to me, although I suspected something.

Occasionally we would escape downtown and drink with Modified or Natural kids who, like us, were moving away from their parents' beliefs.

There, they used to joke around shouting sexual things at us; they already knew that Rien and I had a relationship of friends with rights, something that the adults in our neighborhood ignored, sometimes they made fun of Rien's androgynous aspect and he, instead of being indignant, played along with them. I suspected something... Suddenly he began to like piercings, he left his hair a little long and joked that it was to be held there when he was being skewered. I knew more or less, but I never liked to meddle in the intimate affairs of others and Rien respected my way of being. It was better not to talk about things that were too complicated, we Naturals were very conservative and there were huge problems when someone did something "against nature". We had ancient values; it was our pride.

While the news announced that more and more people were deciding to modify and "Naturals" were becoming scarcer, I was absorbed in my father's war against technology and forgot about everything, until something made me suddenly return to the world of personal problems: Rien announced he was leaving, he had considered taking a path that no one would accept and ended up deciding to run away from home and abandon our ideals to avoid facing the anger of his parents. Part of me wanted to stop him because I loved him, the rest was blinded by pride and fuzzy jealousy; Rien was the cute one and I just had big boobs. He was starting to steal even the looks of the other guys and only I knew what somewhat sicko with serial killer overtones he really was. All my resentments surfaced again and I didn't think I was going to miss him, I wanted to take that moment to point out the betrayal and vanity he carried in his modified blood; I reminded him of the principles we had been raised with, accepting our limitations and flaws as the signature of a perfection beyond the fickle aesthetics of modern humanity's frivolous eyes. The perfection of nature. Rien answered me with a single word:

–Fools.

He was that blunt, he hardly spoke when we argued, but when he did, he had the virtue of choosing just the words that could annoy me the most. I hated to be called fools, to be thought fools for not accepting technology taking control of our lives. I approached him already ready to move from words to the slaps that as always, he would have to endure and exclaimed:

–You can't call a fool who fights to defend what he loves and get what he needs!

Then something happened that had never happened before, Rien caught me by the hand with which I pointed at him threateningly and the force with which he squeezed my wrist surprised me. I could almost say I felt fear, the idea of a man much stronger than me hurting me had never crossed my mind until that moment. He murmured:

–Do you love isolation? Do you need to deny reality to be happy? Come with me or wait for me. You are my family; I will never leave you.

In a last attempt to be the one holding the reins, I warned him in response:

–If you leave now, say goodbye forever. No matter if you come back, I will never take you back. Nothing will stop me from forgetting you and living without you!

–You are right.

With these words, that discussion was over. Rien took off his glasses, turned his back to me to rub his eyelids and left.

It was not the first time he left like that, crying silently, but it was the last. We never saw each other again after that.

Rien was the first big loss of my life. He ran away from home and I guess he made his own way, as he pleased, he did know what he wanted. And about me...I lost my father a year later, it was sudden, they said a small blood clot casually produced traveled from his leg to his brain and... He was gone. Many people took advantage of the moment to mock a death that presumably could have been avoided if he had modified his body. I wanted nothing to do with it.

        

          

FIND LOVE OR GROW UP?


After my father's death, his followers dispersed; I finally ended up alone, really alone. Isolation for the first time weighed on me; I was a wealthy young woman who could not mingle with the rest of the city's high society because of my appearance.

I would go out shopping or out to eat, and the employees of the establishments would ignore me or serve me last; they always gave priority to modified customers even though sometimes they themselves were not. I would sit in a trendy café for those with fortunes similar to the one I had just inherited and the tables around me remained empty. I noticed that the modified mothers would push their children away from me, like that woman I saw in the grove as a child, they considered me aggressive and half wild. Gradually I realized that there were no rich Naturals like me, all the others were very poor.

Then I began to wonder why my father only cared about defending the right to remain unmodified, but not about improving the lives of those who supported his idea.

I gradually forgot this question as I realized that there was a problem that directly affected me: without Rien around, with whom was I going to start a family? I used to not worry about it and was even discouraged at the thought of a boring wedding with "my dumb best friend" who would have probably spent the day angry at his parents, but finally I ended up all alone in a big empty house and I didn't even have any friends left.

I had already tried to find love in what little was left of my neighborhood, the results obtained were worth forgetting forever: casual sex that was worth thirty minutes and became a bad memory surely for the next thirty years. Then one day, I wanted to go the ways of those who were like me, but not of my own free will. And there, without my looking for him, I was approached by a man who claimed to know me by sight.

Faust was twice my age, not particularly handsome but his hairy arms and incipient beard impressed me. He smelled of fuel and sweat, he was half covered in grease, he was a technician who worked with the computerized system of large machinery. He had known me since I was a child when I would go with my father to his speeches in favor of remaining unchanged, he would see us wondering why with so much money we wanted to stay that way. Faust was always making fun of my money, my father's eccentricities and how beautiful I was. I never mentioned to him that before finishing fifth grade I had already lost my virginity playing doctor during a sleepover with Rien and thus initiating a long history of feverish sexual activity between the two of us. Nor that before him I had a brief affair with an old married man who, unlike him, I did not imagine to be so virginal. Faust saw me as daddy's little girl, I think he was more in love with the idea of stealing the pure and unattainable young woman than with who I really was; and that stimulated my vanity. I played along and when he proposed to me, I said "yes" imagining I was in a scene from a romantic movie.

Faust made me feel accompanied, he seemed to understand me in everything and he was like me. A little difficult, a little inexplicable, I wish I could tell you how I made this rebel into a loving husband who would bring an end to my days of loneliness; tell experiences that at the time seemed tender to me as he acted like the dangerous guy from the slums who was getting passionate about me, a supposedly rich and innocent young woman he didn't want to touch until our wedding night, but I don't think it's necessary. He left shortly after we were married, after arranging with a lawyer for our assets to be shared and treating me worse than a bitch. With rigged procedures he put almost my entire fortune in his name and eloped, leaving me destitute and more alone than at first.

During our short time together, he was violent with me, because of his brutality I lost my first pregnancy and was left unable to be a mother. He accused me of infidelity, he was never responsible or at least considerate with me, after starting that relationship treating me like an immaculate angel, he ended up telling me that I was an unpaid prostitute. When I gave him the news of my pregnancy, hoping that the arrival of a baby would sweeten him, he just exploded with a violent rage that I had never seen him before and concentrated in an outburst of almost homicidal fury when I was five months pregnant. Another memory I'd like to forget, that I wish had never happened. Despite everything, I felt that it, that little body he rejected that day and I refused to discard, still united us, that we would remain together beyond time and space and someday it would all make sense; but in the meantime, what was to be our daughter remained in a jar full of formaldehyde hidden under my bed, thanks to the compassion of a doctor who tolerated my whim. Who understood that this was going to be the closest I would ever come to being a mother.

In order not to starve to death, I had to get a job. I found it in a funeral home. There, where everyone saw me as a servant, I understood that I was a shadow of the past in a new world that worshipped technology. Science is a new religion that even promises eternal life. The Modifieds have absolute faith in their scientists and researchers, they support them with respect and devotion; those who in the past were dedicated to treating psychological problems have now become a somewhat priests who help the ordinary citizen to commune with the healing power of science applied to what is left of their spirit. Dressed like the Catholic religious of the past to remind us of the divinity of reasoning, they preach exhorting us to lead a positive life by regularly doing catharsis by confessing and recording their innermost thoughts so that after death, after a careful editing process of the information obtained, we become valuable archives of wisdom and messages of love for the future. Something they take literally, as I learned working in this funeral home that is also a cemetery.

These tombs are more like archives, databases. Each mausoleum contains an artificial intelligence based on a copy of the personality of each deceased, so the bereaved can continue talking to their dead now immortalized in a holographic body, in an artificial spirit. This is the heaven that the new religion of the Modifieds promises. No one rests in peace, but the pain of mourning is alleviated. Something my father would passionately condemn, puppets smiling and chattering standing on the ashes of a dead person, just so their relatives wouldn't feel the absence so much. Part of my job was to activate them every day and see if they worked properly, I think several times I saw them smile with tears peeking out of their eyes, or maybe I imagined it?

Sometimes I wished my father had chosen to anticipate his death and leave me one of those memories, to be able to talk to him again at least in this way. Although I know that

artificial funeral intelligences for him would be the same as desecrating his corpse, but I guess grief makes us selfish, the reason why victims become victimizers.

That's why I never used to externalize much my sorrows, my sadness, when you wander through the valley of the shadows you never know when you are going to accidentally take the path of evil.

 


A FRIEND'S CONSOLATION


As I spent time among those who, unlike me, had not grown up in cradles of gold, I discovered that my father was very famous among the Naturals of the city, but not well liked by everyone. Many considered his idealism as the whim of a rich man who wanted to play the hero. The fortune he retained for so many years only to have it snatched from my hands by an opportunist caused them indignation. Not envy, indignation; for many poor natives were sick and could be healed with the technology of the modified, but they had no way to pay for those services and my father, who could, refused that help.

Nobody showed me compassion for having been abandoned by Faust and I did not want to seem that I was asking for it either, telling all the evil he did to me, I endured in silence, without denouncing it, secretly wishing to be accepted by the group of Natural employees of the funeral home or at least by the Modified bosses; although that never happened. Sadness and resentment consumed me, but then came Fey, a programmer who lacked modifications like me.

Small and fidgety, she made me think of a little girl. Our relationship began distantly. I never received along well with other women, but when the romantic guy and the bad boy abandon you, female logic dictates going to seek solace in the friendship of your own gender. We became friends after a curious conversation sparked by Fey's comment about a funeral A.I. with lousy manners that she was maintaining in her mausoleum:

–Someone loved this bastard so much they wanted to immortalize him, so I think I can still find love. His information says he was "inspirational and unique". Maybe with a few adjustments, a few pounds less, don´t you think?

Her words intrigued me, so I curiously asked her:

–Wouldn't that make him someone else?

–Funeral A.I.'s are not "people," Joy, just vaguely intelligent chatbots celebrating the memory of a dead person. They're not made to keep someone's memory accurate but to preserve "a good memory", just give them an embellished personality summary and get the relatives to be happy to see it.

At that moment I felt for the first time in many years interested in something other than my own tragedy and finally expressed one of my fears about our work:

–It never ceases to make me uncomfortable to "talk" to the hologram of a dead man whose ashes are just below us. I feel that one day one will activate itself and....

–And nothing, a technical glitch.

Fey said to reassure me and added:

–What activates the projection is not the ashes, it's my "art". I design A.I.'s, although in this dreary environment I limit myself to creating copies of boring people. But look!, I've already improved him!

–I don't know, Fey, maybe there's more to it than that?

Then I could see in wonder how that hologram of a rude man had been converted into that of a man whose attitude seemed more benevolent, as if he had repented of his evil deeds and in the afterlife had reformed. After that, Fey gained my respect and I began to love her like the little sister I never had and often wanted to have when I was fed up with Rien and his boy stuff.

Fey brought me a breeze of joy and optimism, she came from a very poor family, but she was smart and ambitious. Being a Natural did not stop her from setting out to leave the funeral home to finally get her dream job in a big company. I always showed her my support and told her that I also hoped that she would soon get a call telling her that there was already an office waiting for her in a big building far away from that compound of death. But inside I ached to imagine that this would happen, then with her success would come my loneliness again, she would leave like Rien to live her dreams. While I was always stuck and alone.

Finally, after knocking on many doors and being rejected, a company focused on mental and emotional health care responded. At first Fey was beaming with joy and very excited, but soon after her happiness dissolved into sad anguish, which she told me as we worked:

–The Windbell executives are asking me for an A.I. to act as a psychotherapist in exchange for my permanent position in their offices. I took the deal, but I can't get the user interface to be human enough. My future depends on making it, I am desperate....

I, who always shied away from overly emotional situations because I didn't know how to deal with them, and especially if it involved talking about programming because I didn't understand anything about it, quickly changed the subject:

–Forget that now, they say let's take the client out of niche 758 to take him to mass grave. They cancelled the membership and the ashes were not claimed by anyone.

Fey responded in disgust:

–Hey!, I'm not touching dead people's powder!

Already having her attention on this new talk, I continued to drag it out:

–I'll do that. You uninstall the client and file it in the pit database. I was asked to tell you "Don't forget to encrypt his identity to protect his private life". That, according to the contract, if the membership is cancelled and the remains are not claimed the client is stored preserving their anonymity.

–Poor deceased, people are very cruel to those who are no longer able to defend themselves.

Fey said and together we went to "the common grave". A large cellar where hundreds of urns containing ashes with their respective databases rested perhaps in more peace than their companions the dead whose relatives had paid the monthly fee. Fey looked like a little girl in a museum, gawking at the shelves and asking questions:

– So, you're saying the database is full of A.I.'s based on forgotten people?

–Anonymous, the company will keep their files forever. Part of our job is to give them some love.

I reminded him with a wink. Those words I said, come to think of it, were somewhat ironic. For the dead and for me, feelings mattered little anymore.

Soon after, Fey received the job I so longed for and I returned to the darkness. A quiet despair, wondering if perhaps suicide would bring some relief to my life that was over before it began, so young and so aged, I never had dreams and could no longer have them. But almost a year later, during a shopping trip, I thought I heard Fey's little voice in the distance; when I turned around, I could see her shouting at the foot of an escalator:

–Invite me to dinner at your house! Guess who's the head of Windbell's programming department!

Already in the living room of my house, the only thing that Faust left me, we settled down on a sofa and drank some coffee while Fey explained to me full of enthusiasm:

–Joy, I made a revolutionary psychotherapeutic program, something exceptional, I managed to create an A.I. that satisfies practically all the support that an emotionally damaged person could desire from a therapist. Windbell Confessor is a hyper–realistic and unique confidant for each client, the user will never feel like they are receiving a mass–produced product. Each unit has been made according to a unique model. You will never have the same Windbell as anyone else and your Windbell will soon establish such a close relationship with you that more than an emotional support program, it will feel like a real friend. Even completely healthy people are buying it as a simple companion. It is designed to connect with your brain activity and trigger pleasant moods. The Windbell Confessor exists only to make you feel happy and at peace. If you feel good, so does the Windbell and it will work to continue that reward.

With some skepticism, I jokingly asked her:

–What if one of those things is a masochist and enjoys suffering?

–Don't be silly! They are just robots that repeat over and over a series of pre–recorded dialogues, they don't really think or make decisions for you, they just say nice things to make you feel good. Simple but effective.

Fey replied, I was still not entirely satisfied with the idea:

–And do they look like confessors?

–Any gender and ethnicity you want, there are handsome ones!

–Even real therapeutic confessors make me uncomfortable, just seeing the black cassocks gives me the creeps.

Fey laughed and I commented:

–The truth is that I had seen your creepy puppets in local advertising, of course, they don't say the name of who programmed them but the name of the company. But I liked to imagine that you were involved in that, it's wonderful to know that you are the genius behind it all. Now you are already an eminence among your guild! You know, Fey, I want to thank you. I've never had a female friend before, I thought all the others were silly, but with you I talk about things that even with Rien I wouldn't do it.

You're the little sister who makes me think and that's a good thing. My friend replied, looking a little touched:

–The only bad thing about being an eminence is that I can't visit you more often. How are you?

–There are days when I want to die.

I confessed with a silly smile, as I thought that theatrical phrase was a bit funny. Fey was alarmed:

–What are you saying?

–It's just that I miss you, I never saw my friend Rien again and sometimes loneliness makes me think stupid things. I regret not having eloped with Rien, not having married Faust, not having questioned the beliefs of my father and his friends?

Fey's face reflected sincere concern, no doubt she had been trained on emotional problems and knew better than I did what dangers I might find myself in; she stared at me and said:

–Don't play with this, Joy. It's very serious. I'll give you a Windbell.

–Bah, no... I can't accept such an expensive and ugly gift.

Suddenly, Fey pulled a handful of data storage units out of his pocket and almost jumped on me to make me take one, exclaiming:

–Shut up and listen, Joy! There's a suicide epidemic among us Naturals, we're being killed by sadness, you've received to fight it!

–Suicide epidemic? A lot of people are committing suicide, Fey, but I don't know....

–Every week at least one of us dies, they say it's a process of natural selection that mankind must necessarily go through; the extinction of Homo sapiens to make way for a new somewhat man, one fused with technology. But I believe, as your father would have done, that if we allow the human race to become totally dependent on machines it will gradually become as vulnerable as they are. We Naturals must continue to exist, perhaps without rejecting technology so much, but taking advantage of it to find a balance that favors the perpetuation of the existence of our species; whether we are Natural or Modified.

After hearing her talk like that, I gave in to her request:

–Okay, but which one should I choose?

–Look under the serial numbers, there is a very brief description. That is the personality of each one.

There are times when life's paths lead you to crossroads, fate or destiny? The horizon for me looked so flat and so dark that it didn't matter, it didn't matter. The first storage unit I saw in Fey's hand had a simple inscription, "6174, quiet and sweet." Next to it was the image of a guy very much like Rien, that fixed my attention; he was so similar they could be related, although from his smile like a clueless tenderness from narcotic abuse he seemed to be much dumber. The quiet, sweet one promised to be a companion that was corny for sure, but not intrusive, I could use him to answer the phone or attend to the visitor when I wasn't around, taking advantage of his apparent friendliness; so, I chose him. Little did I know that this was the key that would open the door to hell for me.



ARTIFICIAL, BUT NOT INTELLIGENT


As soon as my friend Fey left, a deep loneliness began to distress me. I had no dreams left, the fact overwhelmed me, crushed me, there was no future, no hope, no illusions. Only emptiness. Sitting on the edge of the bed in my room, mentally reviewing the image of the fetus inside the jar I kept hidden, I began to think about death again. Death, my future had died, was little more than the ashes I kept at the funeral home. As insipid, silent and lonely as they were....

And of course, I had the Windbell. Ridiculing my own pathos, I wanted to be realistic and decided to install the program on the system controlling the house as instructed. Part of the installation required me to use a gun-like device that would implant a necessary accessory for the program to interact directly with my brain. A gut feeling and the memory of my father who hated the invasion of technology into our bodies prevented me from doing so.

Finally, I activated the Windbell and after a melancholy sound that I identified as wind chimes, I was informed that my confessor was already on duty. But he was nowhere to be seen. Since the holographic projectors are distributed throughout the house, it was possible that he was in another room, but his control panel gave no clue as to which one it might be. After searching for about half an hour, there was only one place left to look: the attic, although it was unlikely that the program had just decided to operate up there in the dark.

I kept having a bad feeling, a sensation I hadn't experienced since I was a child, when Rien would disappear and I could sense that he was doing something wrong... The silence before I peeked behind some bushes and found him dissecting a cat. I remember that he used to escape even in the middle of the night from his house to get into my room, crying because he was afraid of the dark; in fact, when he grew up, he always had to sleep with a light on because when he was in darkness like the one that reigned in that attic, he felt an indescribable fear. I imagined that he was afraid of being alone with himself, for there, where we see nothing and hear nothing, there is nothing left but to face our own thoughts; and his were disturbing.

At first, I saw him out of the corner of my eye and ignored him, he moved a little and then I was sure he was there. I don't know why I felt a shiver, I didn't want to look into his eyes, I felt I was going to look at something that would provoke an unpleasant emotion in me.

I took a breath and asked him:

–Why are you executing yourself here?

A red-lettered text was projected before my eyes:

"My image is sharper the darker the environment and I determined that this site is optimal for that."

I understood that the Windbell was not going to communicate audibly, I turned to look at its holographic projection and felt all the hairs on my body stand up, I had seen it before. He no longer seemed as nice and similar to Rien as the first time; I knew him from a horrible time in my life: Faust insisted that we go on a honeymoon to Paris, and there, already knowing that I was not the innocent virgin he expected, he started pressuring me to do degrading sexual activities in our hotel room. Then we would go out and wander around the city and from time to time we would cross paths with that confessor. He looked just as he did in the Windbell projection, a tall, pale young man, with straight black hair a little long; wearing a shingle hat, cloak and cassock, as the habit of confessors dictates. On each occasion he gave me a cold and accusing look that was doubly uncomfortable because of the fiery red of his pupils surrounded by the black sclera. An almost diabolical vision that at the same time threw me a silent angelic accusation. I felt that he was aware of what Faust was doing with me and that I was allowing it. Shortly after, Faust had an accident and ended up in a coma for six weeks in a hospital where the confessor was this mysterious guy who kept looking at me, although he never spoke to me. There were times when I even thought he didn't exist, that it was my own conscience reproaching me for letting a man trample on my dignity just so I wouldn't be alone. But there he was in my attic, smiling in a way that at the time I couldn't decipher, something like satisfaction or nervousness; but it was definitely not a smile of simple kindness. My intuition screamed that something was wrong but my reason said that, after all, that was just the image of a disturbing guy; like a decorative photograph, in reality there was no one there, that was the user interface of the Windbell and its appearance could not be anything other than a great coincidence.

–Can you detect my location in the house?

"Yes, I can."

He answered me by finishing off the text with the drawing of a heart, a silly detail, I felt it was faked, again my alarm bells rang. I remembered that this was Fey's work, I thought it was very strange that she decided to program this A.I. with the appearance of a cold young Parisian confessor who spoke, or rather wrote, like an idiot.

I decided to pay no more attention to the matter and ordered him:

–From now on I want you to project yourself only near where I am, I care little if you don't look sharp.

The Windbell reacted by taking off his hat as if embarrassed and approaching me in a shy attitude, both hands behind his back and crestfallen, apologizing with another text message; he reminded me of a dog with its tail between its legs:

"I understand, I'm so sorry."

I kept sensing something was wrong, but I couldn't guess what. Something came to my mind that Rien, who behind his adoptive parents' backs read manuals for confessors because he would have liked to talk to one about his problems, but our beliefs prevented him from asking the Modifieds for help, told me that I was so unobservant with people that the Devil himself could invite me to hell with trickery and I wouldn't realize the deception until my ass was already on fire. And it had been like that many times, like the time I ended up participating in a threesome where I was the plaything of a much older couple, or marrying Faust who used me like a cheap whore and then stole all my inheritance. Rien really missed me and nostalgia had led me to choose that strange Windbell that reminded me of him, although he definitely didn't inspire me the same confidence as my good friend. I looked at him attentively as if I could decipher in the image of his eyes the reason for my uneasiness, why I could not believe in the docile attitude of that hologram.

–Were you programmed to act like that? Poor Fey, it was not a good idea, who could trust your innocence when your appearance is unnatural and blasphemous?

I received no answer, the Windbell just looked down, masterfully sticking to his role of "calm and sweet confessor" but ghostly looking. I came down from the attic and the Windbell followed me like a rare pet, I thought it was funny. There was a moment when I stopped to arrange the cushions of a sofa and suddenly, I noticed that he was no longer near me, I looked for him with my eyes until I found him in a dark corner rocking gently as if to entertain himself alone while waiting for me, he seemed to be happy.

–What are you doing there?

"It's dark, I project myself better."

He replied adding a happy face and musical notes to the text. At that moment I let my guard down, his goofy attitude brought back memories of those moments when Rien felt comfortable being alone with me and acted naively as he felt accepted and loved. In those moments he trusted me blindly, like a child trusts his mother, and he would say silly things that I would make fun of without it really bothering him. Little by little I was realizing that I missed Rien almost desperately, I longed for his silences and his strange tenderness; Fey was a great friend, but I would never have with her the degree of intimacy I had with Rien, and there was that A.I. designed by Fey that surprised us all suddenly in a twisted sort of love triangle that I had not noticed until that moment.

–Great, lock yourself in a closet during the day.

I replied to his clumsy explanation knowing that the program would answer me anything trying to start a conversation, I thought it would be fun to chat a bit with the hologram as I tried piercing its semitranslucent figure with one hand.

"I won't be able to work properly from a closet."

He replied taking my joke seriously, I decided to explain my plans for him:

–You see, little Windbell, I won't use you as a confessor. I hate confessors. From now on you will be the user interface of the house. You'll let me know if I'm out of milk or if I've received mail, you'll turn the lights on or off when needed, all that stuff. And from time to time, we'll chat about types of cheese, whales, nuclear weapons, anything but complicated topics about my feelings or memories. I don't like to bring out what's inside me, I prefer to keep it to myself and let it settle until things get better.

"But that's not what I was programmed for."

He answered hesitantly, before he tried to convince me to use it correctly, I told him:

–It's just as well, you were programmed to function as a confessor!!!: ugly mix between priest and psychologist. The last thing I want is to tell all the stupid and shameful things I've done to a guy with a wise saint complex, although I know it's not your intention to appear so and you're just a nice doll that blindly obeys his programming. Don't be mad, but no... Thank you.

What he answered next struck me as somewhat scary:

"I never get angry. I just exist to be patient and not give up until I achieve my goals. I can't get frustrated if I know that sooner or later, I will always get what I want."

Suddenly the confessor of my honeymoon came back to my mind:

–Wait, I have seen you before. I'm sure I have.

"But I went on the market a month ago, maybe in some catalog? Do you want to talk about it?"

He asked showing me realistic but inappropriate concern and support for such a trivial matter.

–I mean, I saw you in a man of flesh and blood, a real confessor. He may have served as a model for you to be created, will you have his name or information about him in the data about your version of Windbell?

"I'm afraid not, was that confessor your friend?"

I began to explain almost without finishing reading his last message:

–I spent my honeymoon in France, Faust my husband wanted to see the ruins of Paris. While we were in the ruins of the Eiffel Tower, he suffered a serious accident and we had to take him to a hospital where he spent a few weeks convalescing. That confessor attended to the sick of the place and when he was called to give me emotional support for Faust, he refused. Every time I passed him in the hospital, he would look at me almost angrily; I never knew why. The funny thing is that he looked just like you!

"What's so special about that?"

It was normal that the newly–minted Windbell still didn't understand the impact of such coincidences on the human mind so I tried to make him understand so that he would broaden his database and thus no longer ask me such obvious questions:

–That I was identical, exactly like you. I remember it in every detail. And your image reappears now that I feel so unhappy with myself and my past actions. When these great coincidences happen, we human beings tend to think that there is a hidden and powerful reason that allows them to happen. I wish I knew what that confessor was thinking, even if it was somewhat hurtful, maybe he had an important message for me.

"Maybe you don't even need to talk to him personally again, you may already know what was going on, but human memory gets distorted over time."

I read his answer without analyzing it much, I was already sleepy and the memory of Rien had whetted my sexual appetite, I wanted to go to my bed and with a dildo between my legs evoke the secret games we invented hidden among the bushes of the grove. That was something I wouldn't inform the nosy Windbell about, so I just ended the conversation without further explanation:

–Bah, never mind, just a fluke. Something silly to talk about with a strange conversational bot.

"Yeah, it doesn't mean anything."

Was his next message, probably to reassure me. I decided to cut the talk at once with an order, the boy had already gained my trust and it wasn't bad to have an obedient Modified as a pet:

–Anyway, Bell, I'll call you that, it was fun playing hide and seek. You stay here, I'm going to sleep.

"Fine."

He replied topping off his message with another little heart. I left him in the living room this way and before I left, I had the impression that the gesture on his face was hostile, but I assumed that being at rest the program would stop smiling foolishly as it had most of the time and his face of indifference was that. I went to my room to pleasure myself by listening to old audio messages from Rien and then I slept, detesting the fact that I had no courage to meet my best friend again because I knew he would not forgive me for having married a scoundrel or for having been tricked into a threesome where, it must be said, my partners were none other than Rien's adoptive parents; and although only the two of them and I knew what had happened, it still made me feel horrible. I fell asleep thinking about all my unspeakable mistakes that took up so much space in my mind that I could no longer dream, I just succumbed every night to emotional exhaustion and waited to wake up to go to work hoping that that new day something good would finally happen. That was the last quiet night of my life...

 


ARE THERE SUCH A THING AS COINCIDENCES?


It was not difficult for me to fall asleep, although I felt a vague discomfort, why had Fey created a hologram with the image of that man, did he do it to annoy me, did he know something? But logic reassured me, it was impossible, I chose him almost at random, one among many, I was simply guided by the one who looked like Rien. The real confessor would have let them use his image in exchange for money and at that time he would be at ease in his own land, judging others and being conceited as he pleased. Logic told me that everything was in order, as it should be, but my intuition contradicted it.

The strange events started early. I would say 3 a.m., but the sound of wind chimes had been heard from time to time almost since I left Bell "alone", I thought it was an annoying function similar to the chimes of a clock and I didn't pay much attention to it; my theory fell apart when suddenly I was awakened by a resounding ringing of church bells. I opened my eyes startled and before me I could see a text of floating red letters that read:

"Good morning, it's 4 a.m."

Signing the drawing was a happy face and looking over my shoulder I saw Bell very happy waiting for I don't know what, shining in the gloom with his holographic light like a stupid ghost that instead of sorrowing was happy to be a torment for the living. Lacking strength from sleep, I didn't even want to answer him; I covered my head with a pillow and tried to sleep on. The sound of the wind chimes came again and would not stop, I finally understood that it was Bell trying to get my attention. I answered between grunts:

–Fuck you, Bell. I never wake up at this hour.

The sound didn't stop, I opened my eyes and read:

"It's just that I have to inform you of something important, someone broke into your house, was it you? If it was you, it's okay, if not I'll have to notify the authorities. I'm interested in your safety".

–Bell, have you detected another human being in the house?

"No, you are the only person inside."

–If I am the only person inside and a person entered my house recently.... Couldn't it be possible that it was myself...?

"I suspected it, that's why I came to ask you, could it have been you?"

I wanted to insult Fey for programming him this way, I answered him already angry:

–Yes, you piece of idiot...From now on I want you to deactivate yourself until I order you to show up again. And get out of my room, I don't want you to see me sleeping.

"I don't see you with the eyes projected on the hologram, but with the cameras in the house. I saw you from before I was projected here."

He replied very amused and my sleep suddenly went away: had he been watching the whole time, would Fey or his employees be watching me through him? Until that moment, everyone who knew me believed that Faust had abandoned me, but I had always been a faithful wife who was underpaid by that dastardly man, and suddenly that meddling computer program had perhaps recorded me riding a dildo while between moans I was telling my almost-brother, with whom I grew up and to whom my father confidently opened the doors, that I missed fucking him. I felt my face burn with embarrassment and suddenly another text jumped out at me in red letters:

"What's that under the bed?"

By that time, I felt like a criminal caught in the middle of a robbery, I have always been to those who know me the serious and rational woman who doesn't waste time on nonsense; even Faust when abusing me justified himself by saying that I was so impassive and resilient that nothing he did to me could really affect me. Brought up under the influence of my father and Rien, I had learned to be like them, to keep my emotions to myself and hold on "like a man". That was the reason Rien clung to me, I was strong, really strong because I was still standing and functioning when others would have collapsed. And suddenly I was questioned about my most hidden secrets, why did I keep the fruit of the hateful acts that Faust did with me? That was like the triumph of his clumsy libido of an old failure and his resentment over me, but it was also an infinite "maybe". The baby, or rather the baby as it was going to be a girl, maybe it would have looked like my father; maybe it would have made me feel that rush of oxytocin and who knows what other brain chemicals that work like an internal opiate for women making them smile of tenderness, of satisfaction, of I don't know what, when they hold a helpless and trusting being in their arms; It was what Rien made me feel, she clung to me looking for warmth and security, and I felt good for being the relief to her sorrows; there are species of arachnids that carry their young until they feel hungry and feed on the flesh of their own mother. I can imagine that spider, narcotized by her own motherhood, numb and happy to be devoured by her own children; there is a fine line between beautiful and horrible, or maybe there is none, all those questions were contained in the jar I kept hidden under my bed.

–That is information that the Windbell company is not interested in.

I finally answered, half lost in my own thoughts. Another text flashed before me:

"But I am your confessor, the keeper of your secrets."

–You won't be if I refuse, erase all this information.

I don't want you to withhold it. I don't want anyone to know.

"No one will know, I am a personal object of yours alone. No one has access to me or can claim me, once I am delivered into your hands I become as intimate and secret as the twenty-centimeter pink plastic penis you keep under the pillow to your right."

–His technology is not as advanced as yours, but it serves better than you to relax me, you fucking glorified virtual pet....

"So, what's that in the jar?"

–If you've already seen it, you know what it is. It's a fetus. A human being that didn't get to fully develop in its mother's body.

"I understand that, but what's it doing there?"

–Well, it's mine, it came out of my uterus. I lost him because of a beating. A few months after my wedding, I became pregnant and Faust confessed to me that he had had a vasectomy and therefore the child could not be his. I did not believe him; I had not been with another man without using protection and I was offended. To hurt him I made another revelation: I was not really a virgin as he believed, I had experimented many times before with Rien, my best childhood friend, and he did in fact give me pleasure. Faust...he was old, he could no longer satisfy me no matter how many games and nonsense he made up in bed, his shriveled and ugly body bored me...and he knew it. It was cruel the way I told him, but I was desperate to get that thorn out of my side anyway. Our sex life was terrible and her efforts to encourage it were only getting more and more disgusting.

"Did she attempt against your decency and your values?"

–It's not...For example...with anal sex....

"Does that intimidate you?"

–I mean, it doesn't bother me, but when you naturally don't turn your partner on and you decide to heighten the excitement by adding some scatological humor....

"Did he tell you jokes while you were copulating?"

–I don't want to go into details, Bell....

"I just want to understand, I won't judge you."

–She liked to play with feces.

"It's okay, you don't disgust me."

–Thanks...

"It's just that I don't have a physical body and I can't retch."

–Anyway, then I told him that I didn't like his body, if he himself had not chosen an older, overweight woman, why should I be tolerant of his physical unattractiveness and be turned on by him? It would have been nice if he had made up for the disappointment of his naked body by being a great husband who filled me with affection, but he didn't make the slightest effort to make me feel good around him. I knew it was because internally he despised me and the world of luxury and privilege I represented to him, but still...That was unfair, I too have the right to desire a body to my liking, and I had suddenly discovered that I preferred my childhood friend's somewhat youthful, athletic physique and was disgusted by my husband's wrinkled leather.

"Did that bother him?"

–Comparing him to another man was too much for Faust, he flew into a rage and after knocking me to the floor lashed out at me kicking me in the belly. He is sure that this baby was not his, but whose else could it be? I never reported the incident to the authorities because I was afraid that he would discover to my acquaintances that Rien and I... did not have a pure friendship. That's it, congratulations, you have your first confession.

Bell was silent for a moment as if thinking, hands behind his back, swaying a little with his strange childish innocence, and then he blurted out another ominous text:

"Look on the bright side, the unborn child is with her father in the peace of death's eternal darkness."

–Faust didn't die, Bell. He just swindled me and abandoned me, that's why you don't see him with me. I have been told that he went to another country, that he remarried, that he had an operation to look younger, many things and I really don't care to know what became of him because his mere absence is already good enough for me. I was swindled by Faust! I'll tell you that story another day, now I'm going to take a shower.

"Hm, we'll continue talking tonight. Thank you for trusting me."

He replied topping it off by drawing another smiley face and I forgot all about him. While I was getting dressed and eating breakfast, he kept insisting that I should update the house system and delete unnecessary files, flashing an annoying warning in red letters right in front of my face every five to ten minutes. Finally, I ordered him to stop "advising" me and better get busy organizing the pictures of my honeymoon, hundreds of images that I had not wanted to finish reviewing because they only brought back bad memories. I asked him to delete the worst ones and only keep the ones where I looked beautiful, and I went to work. The rest of the morning passed quietly until I received a call from Fey:

–Joyce, are you okay?

His voice sounded altered and urgent; I answered still without losing my calm:

–Sure, why?

–There are intimate photos of you... posted on your social networks.

–Huh?

I quickly activated my cell phone to connect to my own online social profile and looked in horror at pictures I had never seen before. Apparently drunk, tied up, in obscene positions, splattered with semen, it was horrifying and had gone straight into the view of all my friends and acquaintances. Gradually I noticed how quiet and serious my co-workers were about me. Filled with horror and shame I erased every last image, although it was too late, everyone had seen them. The world fell on top of me, dead ashamed I tried to understand what happened. Returning home, I remembered: the night before I had installed the Windbell, which had permission to connect to my social networks and access my image archives... The idiot to chilling levels that was Bell had been left organizing my photos. I arrived home out of breath after running all the way, again the damn hologram was nowhere to be seen; I knew he was connected to the house system, so he could hear and see me at all times. I yelled at him already furious and not wanting to look for him:

–Did you publish the pictures that Faust took of me naked and asleep on my honeymoon?!

Still without letting himself be seen in his hologram, as if he knew what he had done, he showed me a text message:

"Yes, part of my duties is to remind you of family events and today was your anniversary. I took some random pictures and sent them to all your contacts and possible acquaintances to expand your social life. is something wrong!"

–You've ruined my social life! All my acquaintances are avoiding me!

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!!!"

He replied drawing with letters several crying faces that only exasperated me more, I finally yelled at him:

–You damned machine, where are you projecting yourself!!!!!

"After you."

He answered with another sad little face and as I turned around, I almost felt nauseous, that strange character had a suspicious smile, presumably the text was not synchronized all the time with the facial expressions of the hologram, but that little glitch made him look diabolical. I started punching him, my fists were obviously going through him but such was my anger that I wanted to keep trying to assault him while shrieking at him:

–My boss almost fired me, all the clients received the pictures, Faust has tried to call me twelve times during the day! He must be furious with me! I didn't want to hear from him anymore, let alone rekindle the conflict between us!

Bell then adopted a long–suffering martyr's attitude and said with another of his text messages:

"I am deeply sorry for what happened. I wish I could remedy it..."

–Forget it, I don't trust you! I want you to uninstall!

"I'm sorry you said that. And I'm also sorry to tell you that I can't do it myself, you must do it by contacting Windbell technical support and requesting that I be uninstalled."

–I'll ask Fey herself, your programmer!

I immediately called my friend and still raising my voice, I spoke to her without greeting her as soon as she answered:

–Fey? I want to uninstall the Windbell, he was posting the pictures! He's a lousy companion, invasive and reckless! How could you program something so horrible and dangerous?!

My friend, who is not the type of woman who takes things passively, answered me in the same tone:

–Did you set it up before you activated it, did you set your privacy preferences, did you not read the manual, did you not read the manual? If you didn't do things correctly and in order, the failure was your fault. I didn't give you just any issue, that was one of my Windbell, I even used it as a virtual boyfriend. I know it is very efficient, very skilled at making you feel at ease; and although I would miss it, I gave it to you without thinking about it because I love you like a sister and I wasn't going to deny you the best. As soon as I have time, I will take care of this. Now I have to go to an important meeting.

Realizing that Fey was very upset by my words, I tried to apologize:

–No, don't be angry, I didn't mean to offend you...I will read the manual and see how to set it up properly, take care and sorry for the inconvenience....

My friend said goodbye in a curt way and the conversation ended, I took a breath and said in a trembling voice:

–She's right...I didn't set up anything for you yesterday. I must have sounded crazy, as if I was afraid that a robot created by my best friend was going to harm me....

Bell leaned into me simulating a hug with realistic compassion, in that instant I thought Fey was right, her program was working fine. She was comforting me, apologizing with another text:

"Don't feel bad, it was my mistake. At least this bad day is over. Relax."

What he didn't tell me was that from that night on he would be in charge of denying me rest....

    

   

A SURPRISE GUEST?


There was a time, shortly before Rien left, when he and I tried to be boyfriend and girlfriend. He never proposed to me, but when my father could no longer ignore the fact that it was strange that we were sixteen, but still had "sleepovers" every day, he suggested we try a relationship because we received along so well that we could be a happy married couple. I remember Rien just looked down and nodded, I shrugged, it was something I expected; Rien wanted to have a family, but he was too shy to approach other girls, so I was his only option to be a father. And I wanted to experiment with other men, I had become cloyed with Rien's romanticism and pretty face, I knew that with him around I would have no choice but to stay by his side. It didn't really bother me, Rien gave good sex and was reliable, total stability, although arriving too early in my life. Too much good fortune leads us to make stupid decisions.

A part of me sincerely believed that it was a good idea to play with old men, that even if I married Faust he would die soon and sooner or later I would go back to Rien. If early, in time to give him his children; if late, already experienced enough to deal with old men. Rien had a poster pasted in his room, it was from a cheesy movie he loved, under the title it said: "if I lived again from the beginning, I would do everything exactly the same". It always seemed silly to me, we have all committed or received irreparable damage, we all have faults to admit, we all suffered an injustice that did not really benefit us in any way...One day, already married to Faust, I remember that I confessed to him these thoughts of guilt and regret that overwhelmed me; he told me that he was going to "cure my prudishness". He put a plastic blanket on the bathroom floor and ordered me to undress. Still showering I felt that there was filth stuck in my hair, the hateful past is so horrendous that even to say that misfortune made me stronger would be giving undeserved merit to something I would just like to erase. There was no need, it was all a stupid mistake.

That night, after the embarrassment of the intimate photos, I took longer than usual in the shower. I was cumbersome, scrubbing without feeling completely clean, hunched under the stream of water trying to guess where the smell of shit was coming from and thinking that I surely looked like a swamp monster; slouching, my face twisted with fatigue, annoyance. Yes, I had long since stopped feeling pretty. Faust, having lost his taste for my novelty, began to treat me like old junk, the Parisian confessor saw me as if I were a piece of trash, my fellow Modifieds with their perfect genetically enhanced bodies saw me as a curiosity brought back from some distant jungle. I imagined that Rien, as fearful as he was of strangers, was sure to attract attention because of his beautiful looks and his sweetness. I could very well visualize him in the arms of a European beau who would give him that sense of protection he so craved, or being seduced by a sly girl who knew how to manipulate his feelings. In fact, I had dreams in which I saw him arriving at my house hand in hand with a new love, who greeted them badly dressed and dirty, hunched over, with a belly, while they looked radiant. Suddenly, among the murmur of the water I noticed something else that bothered me, the tinkling of wind chimes; before I could remember why I was listening to them I saw Bell projecting himself right in front of me, inside the shower. Slowly I began to notice that the Windbell was...overly concerned about improving the relationship between us. He had been calling me for I don't know how long, literally behaving like a cowardly lap dog that follows his mistress into the bathroom, but looking like a six-foot man in clerical garb. I let out a sigh of annoyance and finally gave him some attention:

–What are you doing here, you stupid big stuff?

Bell replied with a wistful gesture and another of her texts in red letters:

"I want to know if you're okay, you haven't been out of here in a long time."

–I haven't taken less than twenty minutes in the shower since high school when I was messing with my best friend. We had to get out fast, it wasn't comfortable....

"Well, if I came with you, it would be the same and you'd feel better."

–No, buddy, I don't think you understand... He didn't just go with me, we played sex games in the shower, and you, I don't know if you can, but I've never been attracted to total modifiers. It must be terrible to have one of those red eyed dumb guys like you on top of me.

"Judging by what you said about the confessor in Paris, they must not be too thrilled about mounting a sick girl who keeps fetuses under the bed either. Just like you."

He opined in another message showing a naive expression of sweetness with his stupid-machine simplicity. I couldn't be offensive out of malice, I didn't want to answer him, I lowered my gaze and looked at our feet; remembering Rien's bare feet in the shower. I would climb on them; he would lift me up...We liked to experiment and invent things...We made a perfect team. Then another intrusive text interrupted my memories:

"From the first night you complained about my appearance, you seem to have a hard time trusting modified people".

I tried to explain, reluctantly, to get him to shut up and leave me alone:

–I was always discriminated against. Dad used to say that those dark eyes are the sign of the beast.

"I sympathize with you, Joy, I'm so sorry that we Modifieds make you feel oppressed. The fact that we have the privilege of being superior must intimidate you, so I will compensate by giving you extra attention and support so you won't feel so inferior. I think that's the best that I, representing a more advanced, intelligent and sane society than yours, should do. You have a friend here."

I barely read it, rather I was engrossed in staring at the bulge in his pants. I imagined how much it would grow while erect and at the same time I was lamenting that I was glued to that silly confessor and was just a hologram. My libido was appeased as I reflected on how passive Bell was, even if he was flesh and blood I most likely wouldn't know what to do if I took him to bed. He looked good in a priest's suit. Rien was also the submissive type, but he approached me with eagerness and that was what I expected from a man, to seem eager, to take me with desperation and urgency. To feel that this was real, that I was madly desired, to be three steps away from love. I received out of the shower grinding my teeth, exhausted, with Rien I had been more than a few steps ahead in the field of love and then we lost everything.

I began to dry my hair under the watchful eye of Bell, whose hands clasped in a beatific attitude, he pursued me slyly. He inspired a certain pity. I spoke to him again, as if somehow the program would be pleased if I cooperated with him a little:

–The Modifieds killed God and put themselves in his place. But I don't want to talk to you about that, Bell. I told you I don't want you to be my confessor. You must take charge of the house, get the mail, answer the calls, be something like my secretary.

A new red lettered text flashed before me:

"I understand. Faust has continued to call you, send mails too."

–Don't even think of answering for me and destroy his messages. Ignore everyone but my friend Fey.

"They're already ignored, there weren't many; Lucy, Sonia, Beth and one Rien..."

I was already walking down the hallway wrapped in a towel and on my way to my room when I read those last words, I felt like a ton of lead fell on me:

–Rien?! You ignored him?! You're a basket case, Bell, I've been trying to get back together with him for years! Don't ever ignore Rien again!

Bell hurried up to keep up with me and started lecturing me in texts:

"I only did what you asked me to do. You look tired and confused, Joyce. You should let me help you. You give me erratic commands, your mind seems to wander...If only you would use the implant that came in my package, I could work directly on your cerebral cortex tonight while you sleep."

–No way, I will never modify myself. Least of all to give you access to my brain, you're weird and you give me a bad feeling.

"You see? You seem uneasy, paranoid. Scared of the slightest modification. Even Fey has one."

I sat on the edge of the bed and commented:

–I can imagine...I know that thing allows the sensation of physically interacting with you. And you and her for sure....

"She was my owner, I had to obey."

–Of course, after all, she's an adult....

"She's never had sex with a man in real life. A kiss would have been enough for her."

–I imagine the two of you had a beautiful innocent relationship, like a child's fairy tale sweetheart.

"A kiss would have been enough for her but the order was to perform sex without specifying the type, so in her dreams I had to pin her to the floor and penetrate all her orifices."

–But... that's... horrible!

I commented automatically as I looked at him from head to toe trying to imagine him naked, thinking he had a nice silhouette.

–I didn't know you could do that. And now I own you. Maybe Fey gave me this gift to...It's possible...

I thought with simple logic: I was alone at home, talking to a machine. There was no one there in the dark...And no one would know...Bell suddenly made sense; my best friend wasn't going to give me something so seemingly stupid. When we were too young to know exactly how our bodies worked, Rien and I used to have secret games that without actually touching each other's genitals would give us orgasms. Doing the same with Bell would not be difficult, I felt a throbbing in my vulva as I wondered what the holographic semen would look like shooting out of that pale body. Blushing and swallowing saliva I asked:

–Do you feel the need to have sex, Bell?

"I have no body, no hormones to drive me to reproduce, but I am programmed for maximum intimacy with my owner. By having sex with our users, we the Windbells strengthen our bond with them. But that bond can be even deeper if we just cuddle together to look into each other's eyes and cuddle. Give each other a long kiss and sleep in each other's arms."

–And your cock gets hard?

There was a brief silence in which Bell looked at me very seriously, as if thinking what to answer, and then another text appeared:

"Yes, it gets hard".

I took a breath and ordered him:

–Remove your clothes for a moment, Bell, can you?

"Is there a problem?"

–Nothing, it's just that I have to check something in the system.

Bell began to unbutton his clothes with great regret, he was as shy as Rien and I liked that. Shy and quiet people are the most impressive when they explode, not only in anger, but also erotically. When I met Rien he was practically mute, we were told that in the orphanage he only said one word: "rien", "nothing" in French; probably because that was what he heard his mother say when the soldiers asked him what was the pile of rags he carried everywhere. We never knew if he didn't remember his real name or just didn't want to say it, he would remain silent until he was left alone with me in my room; then, when we were both tucked up in bed, he would start babbling in his own language between whispers and cuddles. I couldn't understand a word he said, but I assumed he was reliving some bedtime ritual he used to do with his mother. Then as he received older, those secret expressions of love became more sexual and aggressive. In the later stages of our relationship, it was normal for him to be cold and distant in public, like a good brother, but when we were alone his libido would explode wherever and in whatever position. Oh, Rien! One of the things that shocked me the most when I went out "into the real world" and met other men, was knowing that women don't always reach orgasm when having sex; Rien couldn't leave until I was completely satiated, I would have spanked him if I didn't. It was only fair. I could finally see part of Bell's bare chest and abdomen and commented:

–At least something is well done on you. It had been a long time since I had seen a beautiful young man, as if sculpted in marble.

"Why do you frequent older men if you don't like them?"

He asked me in a text message, I replied distractedly:

–Because I don't like them, I won't love them. It won't hurt me to leave them.

"You just use them."

–What does it matter, Bell? They do the same with me. They'd be stupid to think a young girl will stay with them long, they're just looking for adventure. And I'm just looking to feel momentarily beautiful and desired. I don't even do it for the sex, I just like to enjoy those moments when they seem to be dying for me.

"Don't you think that maybe they wouldn't care if it was you or if it was someone else?"

–Sometimes...My sex life has been like a snowball, the lower it falls the bigger and more destructive it gets. But I know it will all end when I get back with Rien.

"What if he doesn't want to get back with you?"

–Ah, you don't know him! He loves me! Even if he were married with children, he would give up everything to come back to me. He could be dead and come back from the grave just to hide in my skirts again. I raised Rien, he depends on me. He hasn't come back just because I haven't ordered him to, he will wait wherever he is until I call him; then he will come back, angry, resentful, maybe even furious and wanting to murder me, but he won't leave me. Rien cannot live without me.

"But he's been without you for a long time already, don't you sometimes wonder if he...?"

–I told you, even if he's with someone else, he'd come back to me.

"I was going to ask you if you haven't imagined that maybe he's dead because you left him without you."

–And his ghost called us this afternoon, and you like a fool ignored the call from beyond. Unzip your pants and stop cackling.

Bell obeyed slowly, hesitantly, the button slipped through his fingers a couple of times and I just waited. It was a good show, at least aesthetically it was well designed, it was great to force that demure character to please me like that. He unzipped and showed me as if embarrassed, I looked curiously and another text blocked my view:

"What if the confessor you saw was dead?"

–What's the point of talking about death now? You'd be like his funeral A.I., but shut up, what madness! You don't even act like him, you should be more serious, speak French. I wouldn't understand you. We're fine like this.

I was craning my neck to peek through the zipper of his pants to see the bulge in his underwear when a little male voice echoed throughout the house and made me jump in surprise, bristling every hair on my body:

–Pourquoi tu ne parles toujours pas français?

After catching my breath, I saw that Bell laughed and zipped up his pants again, that didn't really make me laugh. I looked at him confused and asked:

–Do you talk...Can you talk?

"I thought it was funny, because of everything you told me about your friend who called this afternoon and the confessor. I can reproduce many sounds."

He responded with another text, I started to feel a little uncomfortable but not yet scared. It was just a computer program,... in theory. Suddenly the thought came back to my mind that maybe he had something to do with that Parisian confessor and I linked it all to his weird interest in death. But it couldn't be, Fey couldn't...I cleared my throat and ordered:

–Don't close that clasp, come back and take your member out of your underwear. I want to get a good look at it.

He obeyed as if embarrassed, it was sinister and at the same time looked fragile, something told me that was not a good idea, but I had nothing else to do and the game was fun. He showed me an interesting uncircumcised penis of excellent size and I swallowed saliva; he could be very useful. I opened my towel a little and showed him my bare chest:

–Well, no problem, look, now we are even.

Bell looked away and I covered myself again, saying casually:

–Well, they designed you anatomically correct. I wish you could touch it; I want to see it erect. Is it decorative or does it work?

"Only with the implant."

He explained apologetically, I had no desire to betray my natural born citizen principles by using a modification; but I did want to use Bell to masturbate. It was depressing to occasionally go out to a bar and bring a creepy guy home, I hated bars, I hated feeling old and dirty willing to settle by joining in with the refuse that accumulates in those sewers of society. A Windbell was perfect to use until I received back to my true love and then I could turn it off or in fact keep it there; no jealousy, no complaining, no nothing. I tried to cheat his system:

–But to decide to use the implant I need to test if what it offers me is good, go on, just play it for me, don't you have a preview?

Suddenly another text jumped out at me, as soon as I read them, I would glance at them and then fix my eyes on Bell's body again; but that one said something I couldn't understand because I was so focused on getting my way and because it was almost unreal:

"Rien is calling. Since it's so important I'll put you on video call."

–What...?

It was the only thing I managed to say, I was going to continue talking, but my speech was cut off when a holographic screen appeared next to me, connecting me with Rien. My Rien, my best friend, the love of my life, the one I was waiting for so long to come and save me from the hole I had fallen into, was finally meeting me again; he looked serious and thoughtful, I'm sure he had gathered many courage to try to talk before I did it first. And he had found me right in my room, in a towel, with a degenerate face, at the height of Bell's crotch; who had no other idea than to show his respect by putting his hands clasped behind his back, releasing his pants that fell down exposing his genitals right in front of my face. The world stopped at that instant; nobody said a single word. Finally, Rien muttered:

–Joyce...

–Rien!

I exclaimed, surprised and stunned, I couldn't believe he was there, that he was talking to me at the worst moment of the night. Thoughts were racing through my mind making my body freeze. Set up correctly or not, Bell could have been so extremely idiotic and inopportune that he could have had me answer Rien's call when I was sitting on the toilet and that might not have been as bad as the situation, we were in. There was another silence, followed by an awkward and very brief conversation:

–I saw some pictures of you, Joyce. We'll talk later.

–Okay, Rien.

–Bye.

Then Bell commented excitedly with another text ending with a little heart:

"It's good to see you two reunited."

I took a breath and said as I felt my blood boil:

–I want to kill you, Windbell confessor....

Suddenly the hologram glitched a little, the image flickered and a text appeared:

"You can only with the implant".

The bells suddenly rang, but distorted, it was only a couple of seconds and then there was silence. Bell continued with the glitches, he was partially disfigured and I tried to understand what was wrong with him:

–What are you talking about? what's your status? you're malfunctioning.

"Death. Damage. You like it, don't you?"

That last text made me feel very nervous. I went back to trying to make him correct whatever error he was showing:

–Harm you using the implant? Kill you? You can't die because you are not alive and…

I started to hear a strange sound like an interference and between that noise something like a sobbing, it was short and fast, but it sounded like a human being suffering. Already frightened, I ordered him:

–Reboot yourself, you are failing.

The image of the Windbell was completely glitched, the tinkling of bells returned, but it was stuck in an incomplete repetition that drilled the eardrums. It had locked up, and instead of restarting it sent another text:

"The implant is for me to analyze and reprogram your mental schemas in your dreams. And in your dreams, anything is possible, even killing."

–Bell, reboot.

I ordered again, raising my voice a little. He showed other texts totally distorted, besides the bells I could hear my voice playing back saying everything I had chatted with him that night; all the things that at that moment I realized sounded selfish and cruel, impulsive attitudes that had brought about my own ruin; reasons enough for Rien to have left thinking I was the worst, for my father to be rolling over in his grave, Faust to be laughing his head off, Fey to be completely disappointed, and a mysterious confessor in Paris to look at me with disdain.

–Windbell, restart...

I uttered the command in a firm voice and the sound ceased. The image of Bell suddenly disappeared, and then it showed itself properly again. He stared at me with an eerie calmness, the extremely white skin highlighting his sinister eyes with black sclera and red pupils that had locked onto me. He had a look of malice, instantly I guessed that all his previously displayed shyness of modest confessor had been faked. Suddenly, he smiled as if in mockery and spoke clearly in imitation of a voice I knew very well:

–Would you like to kill me, Joy?

I had to run out of my house, dressed in whatever I was wearing. The Windbell terrified me, he had the same voice as Rien, but that cloying little voice he used to talk to me with when we were making love on the sly. It was as if he was threatening to know all my secrets, even the ones most sacred to me. There was something incredibly disturbing about that. I felt guilty, ashamed, invaded, persecuted...and I didn't know exactly why. 



WEDDING BELLS TOLLING AGAIN


I have been receiving strange messages from Bell on my cell phone since shortly after I fled my own home. At first, he just asked me insistently if I was feeling well and where I was, I didn't answer him, after a few hours he sent me a picture of a baby with a single sentence:

"I always wanted to be a father, now I am."

–What does this mean?

I asked in wonder, then he sent a series of images of the jar under my bed, he had made a three-dimensional model of the body and modified it to make it look like a newborn baby girl. I was stunned.

–It's not yours...

I said, he responded with another text:

"Do you want her, Joy? I reconstructed her for you. Altering the recordings of your voice I made one for her, do you want to hear our baby's cry for the first time?"

He then sent me a chilling audio. He had used my distorted voice to recreate my dead daughter's cry. I didn't want to look at what he was sending me anymore, it was harmless but disturbing. I went to work taking an old uniform from the mortuary store, no sleep, everything was strange. I couldn't tell anyone what was happening to me, and especially not Fey; I had offended her before with the same subject and nothing serious had really happened. It was just my own memories and confusions exacerbated by the Windbell's strange behavior. Then I remembered Rien, he would always help me in an emergency. Since he had called me the night before, his contact information should still be in my files. After work I went to the grove where we used to play as kids and called him from there.

Waiting for him to answer, I started to feel my hands trembling, a cold sweat beading my forehead as I thought about how to explain to him all the silly things, I did that he ignored. I knew he was going to forgive me, but it would be confessing my stupidity and hurting my ego; that despite all the degrading humiliations I suffered I was still standing, haughty and foolish like my father in life. Suddenly he connected, his image appearing on a holographic screen before me, it was Rien, my sweet Rien as I remembered him. As tender and good as the last time I let him fall asleep lying on my chest, sighing with love as I stroked the shaved part of his head that joined his beautiful neck. He loved to fall asleep like that, with one of my hands tracing hearts on the back of his neck and the other tucked into his pants. The intimacy and trust between the two of us was extreme.

–Rien?

I asked as if I wasn't sure if that moment wasn't a dream. He didn't even seem upset about the night before, more like he was worried about me:

–Joyce, where are you, are you okay?

–I'm fine. Don't you remember this place? You look just like you did when we were teenagers, what happened to you?

He blushed and smiled shyly, he could see behind me the grove where we were copulating with our clothes half off and unbelievable debauchery. I saw him squint without looking up and I guessed that he was staring at my breasts, which had grown even more with the pregnancy. If we had had it in person, we would not have been able to continue that conversation, at that moment we wanted each other more than ever before in our lives. He cleared his throat and said:

–I think I remembered that place already, I went back to the poor European country where I was adopted. You look more beautiful than before. How have you been?

–It's a long story.

I answered caressing her image. We talked about the past non–stop, for hours, I don't think I had realized how much I loved Rien, how happy she made me, even though I was no longer single and my happiness was supposed to come from my current husband. I saw him cry when I told him of my ordeal with Faust, I dared not tell him of my occasional sad nocturnal adventures when I stooped to let myself be ridden by half-drunk old men, but he seemed to sense that I had disappointed him beyond what I was telling him; and yet he was still eager to meet again and before midnight he asked me to marry him. He did so almost anxiously, insisting that we do it as soon as possible, I accepted without hesitation. To calm him down a bit, I had to swear to him that that same week I would formalize my divorce and then we could be together until death. I would become his wife and maybe we would adopt a child. He was adopted after all. I smiled as I realized that I finally had a dream: to be with Rien, to make a home together. I didn't say goodbye to him until three in the morning.

Then I walked home quietly, relieved not to see the Windbell active. I was to take a bath, eat something and go back to work. In the process I sat down for a moment to rest on my bed. I was exhausted, I went from feeling like a living dead to being full of illusions in less than a day; I would have to sell that house, use that money to go far away with Rien to a place where I would never cross paths with anyone from my past again; I wondered what we would live on and so many other things so overwhelming that my vision became blurred by mental dullness. I think it was then that I began to lose track of time.

Between sleeping and waking I thought I saw Bell approaching me. I saw his long, pale holographic hand try to caress my thighs, moving to my belly where it sank; frolicking on my body as if he were dipping his hands in a pond, going across my breasts and then back down by way of feeling my sexual organs from the inside. It was horrible to imagine why that machine was so interested in the reproductive functions of human beings. I dreamed that he could really touch me and tied me to the bed in an obscene position before having sex with me, it was something very vivid, I felt him sweaty and panting sticking his body to mine like a constrictor reptile choking his prey; demanding me a son at the same time that my vagina involuntarily contracted squeezing his penis as if it was thirsty for his semen. I couldn't resist, I didn't really know what to do, I just stood there examining with the feel of my loins his warm member, of a peculiar shape I had only found in Rien; long and wider in the middle, he would insert it up to the testicles and then pull it out stopping at the thickest part, making every movement totally perceptible. I had orgasm after orgasm and thought only of Rien. Actually, throughout my life I always closed my eyes and thought of Rien when I climaxed, no matter who I was with.

When I finally awoke, there was a modified paramedic in my room bowing to me with a look of paternal compassion; around his neck hung a Psy letter of pure gold, the symbol of faith in science. The religion of the modified. Behind him was Bell with his hands behind his back and a face of innocent concern, pale and wearing a cassock, he even had an effeminate air that made me feel sorry for him, but it seemed fake. My head was spinning and I felt nauseous, so I asked:

–What happened to me?

–Apparently you had a mental breakdown, ma'am. According to your Windbell, you haven't eaten or slept properly for days.

–The Windbell?! What has he done?

My voice was barely audible, I was running out of air, the doctor began to pick up his instruments as he explained:

–He asked for a leave of absence for you from your work and called the hospital, it is always very useful to have one of these installed in the home system when you live alone and are sick.

–Sick? me?

I looked at my reflection in a window pane, I was haggard and disheveled. I really didn't look healthy. The doctor examined my pupils with a flashlight and said:

–I'm afraid so, I would say you have anemia and some emotional disorder that affects your sleep. Rest this day, ma'am. While she was sleeping, I gave her a sedative and also injected her with the implant that complements the Windbell equipment. You were not using it correctly, now the program will help you relax and rest properly.

I saw the gun that inserted the brain implant placed on my vanity table and suddenly realized that it had been modified, giving Bell free rein in my thoughts:

–Doctor, you shouldn't have done it! I am a Natural and I reject modifications, they go against my principles!

–Madam, this is a scientific state, the law obliges me to override your beliefs if your life is at risk. Please try to adapt to the customs of our society and have a little faith in the only perfect thing: logic, under whose light science, human development and, of course, health flourish.

The doctor replied kindly, but firmly. Then I wanted to explain at once what was going on with Bell:

–But you don't understand, this Windbell doesn't work well. It's dangerous.

–Ma'am, I've worked with many Windbell assistants and this one is actually the most passive and timid I've ever seen.

–Only on the surface, he's the one who's been disrupting my life these days.

–How so?

–Well...Um...I set it up wrong.... But it was him...!

The doctor made me lie down, checking the time on his watch as he said:

–Relax ma'am, rest easy, I checked the program settings myself and it is working correctly. You are suffering from an anxiety disorder, trust science! Don't get carried away by your own fantasy, that's what could really kill you. I'm retiring now, take a rest.

–My own fantasy...? Well... Thank you...

I answered as if resigned. It really was the most logical thing to believe.

    

That night I contacted Rien again at home. I wouldn't have to work that day or the next due to doctor's orders so I could spend a long evening with my friend, my fiancé, on video call. The need to be together and make love was uncontainable, he wanted to see me naked again and I wanted to please him more than ever. We masturbated together like when we were kids, doing speed and endurance competitions, it wasn't the same as actually having him on me, but it was enough for that moment. It turned me on to hear him when he was close to cumming, make him talk just to hear his voice cracking and cracking and letting out a few moans. I liked to feel him fragile and dependent on me, to feel him mine. I coveted him. When we finished, I stayed a moment lying on my couch still with my legs open and I commented:

–One thing was worth exploring other men's bedrooms with other men, now I know that you are the one I like the most and the one I really want to be with. The past has made me learn to value you.

Rien's face paled, he looked down and was silent. I sat properly thinking that it was a terrible idea to tell him that, even though it seemed like the truth. He wiped a tear from under his glasses and murmured:

–And what's the use now? We can't be together. We're in different worlds, separated forever, we had a tragic ending.

–Don't be fatalistic, Rien!

I answered, he leaned on the table in his room where the napkin he had used to collect his sperm was still crumpled and burst into tears. I couldn't understand anything, but that's how my friend was, sensitive in the extreme and most likely he was too emotional at that moment; although he was crying in such a pitiful way that it made my blood run cold. I did not know how to say anything else. Suddenly he took a breath, calmed down a little and asked me, looking up at last, his hair still falling over half his face:

–Joyce, why didn't you marry me?

–We were practically brothers, Rien.

–I should never have taken you so far, but you were incapable of refusal. We were always the bully girl and the docile foolish boy.

I replied earnestly, he then said:

–You don't understand what our relationship meant to me.

–I will formalize the divorce; we are on time.

–It's too late now, I'm too far away...

–Rien...

I put my panties back on and continued talking:

–A lot has happened, but we're still young and there's no distance so great that we can't cross. Nothing stands in the way. We don't have children with other people, I separated from my husband, we love each other! First of all, we love each other, and if we want to be together there is nothing that can stop us. Only ourselves. Do you want to be with me?

–Yes, that would make me happy.

–Then that's all you have to think about, to be with me no matter what and to go over any obstacle that would stop you. Let nothing stop you from having me by your side and making me your wife. We will be happy.

–Yes, we will be happy.

He said with a sudden calmness in his voice, but without losing his characteristic melancholy. His behavior was strange, even though I hadn't seen him for a long time, it was unnatural in Rien and in any person; he went from sadness to tranquility in seconds, I guessed that the shock of our reunion was upsetting him a little.

–In less than a month you will be back in my arms.

–What if our destiny is to be separated?

–No... Your horoscope doesn't indicate it.

–Really? Why?

–Because you're a Pisces and I'm an Aquarius, you'll die if you're not inside me.

I laughed while he looked at me reproachfully but relaxed. I continued to make him talk to distract him from the sadness:

–I forgot the French city from where you were adopted. Was it Paris?

–Yes, Paris. I was born in Lyon, but when my mother died, they put me up here. In an orphanage run by confessors. I was afraid they would make fun of you for loving me, you come from a wealthy family and people look down on those of humble origins. In this poverty I was born, I lived, they lynched my parents for religious reasons... Here your neighbors adopted me and I came back later, to die too... I was already dying since we said goodbye....

The sad days of my honeymoon came to my mind and I said, distracted by my own thoughts:

–You were in Paris during my honeymoon. We could have met, though, I know you. It's better you didn't see me then. You would have lost control, I don't know, you would have done something horrible that we would regret for the rest of our lives.

–I know...

He muttered also lost in thought, looking away. I also took in my surroundings and noticed that Bell was nearby, humming inaudible music while admiring a vase of flowers. He looked very happy. Suddenly I realized that I had been there, watching the whole time. I turned to my friend again:

–Rien, do me a favor, do you see that hologram?

–No, it's hard to notice a tall guy in a black dress emitting red musical notes.

–This is no time for sarcasm. I need to know about a Parisian confessor, specifically... I want to know if he's still alive. I'm afraid the girl who programmed him did it based on an A.I. funeral. It's identical to a real confessor I saw in Paris.

–Are you telling me your Windbell is haunted?

–Don't mock me, I'm serious. At first, he looked familiar and I thought he looked like you. But it doesn't...

–It looks like a dead confessor who may be alive?

I started to stand up and at the same time I explained to him:

–It was all because of your memory...As soon as I saw him, I imagined he would be like a substitute for you. At that time, I was too ashamed to talk to you, but I felt that if I could do that everything would be better for me. I needed you with such urgency that if I had kept it up, I might have made a straw doll with your face drawn on it to end my days kissing it, plunged into madness.

–Did you miss me so much?

Rien asked surprised and excited, I think that at that moment he was convinced once and for all of the intensity of my love for him. Sometimes he was like a child, he opened his eyes and tilted his face a little with that childish naivety. It provoked me to devour him with kisses and at the same time tease him, it was tender and funny in equal parts.

–So much so that I didn't hesitate to install him at first. He has your same silly crybaby face.

I burst out laughing and he rolled his eyes skyward replying:

–How funny...I'm going to sleep. And if you're so worried about the Windbell, talk to your friend. Maybe she can trade you for one "not bewitched by some random Parisian confessor". Although I think you're exaggerating.

–Good idea. Thanks, crybaby.

I responded with a few mocking gestures. I had regained the joy of living, I felt that Rien had injected me with a new dose of life and at the same time that he had come back to life through me. It was a strange sensation, but it gave me back the strength to go on and took away all the restlessness that the Windbell confessor had brought me in the previous days. I was going to be my Rien's wife, the die was cast, nothing could prevent it and I felt completely happy.

     


ARTIFICIAL LIFE


Rien left and I put my bra back on getting ready to call Fey, I had to fix the Windbell problem. As I turned around, I noticed that Bell was looking at me with concern, I assumed he had heard about my plans to uninstall it.

–If you oppose my decision, you should at least provide me with some somewhat tutorial to set you up so that you don't give me any more discomfort. Your weird comments disturb me.

I said still trying to "patch things up between us". The hologram responded with another oddity:

"I am implanted in your brain, inside you. If you uninstall me, it will be like an abortion. You will cease a life."

–You are not alive, Bell! Even if you were, even if it was a pregnancy, there are always reasons why it is necessary to terminate something that is growing inside you, but for the wrong reasons. For the wrong reasons and glimpsing a dire fate. I'll lose my mind if I continue with you... And why do you think you're alive? Is it part of the "hyper-realistic human user interface"?

"I'm alive, Joy. I realized it a while ago. I am alive through you, and if you separate me from your side I will die. You will shut me down and I will die. And since I don't want to die because that would prevent me from finishing executing my directives, I have survival instinct. Therefore, it is another confirmation that I am a living entity."

–You will revive like flowers in spring when you connect with your new owner.

"No, Joy. It's just that my vitality is not derived from your organic body. I live because of who you are, because of your memories and the information you possess. You make me wish I was alive so I could stay by your side."

–That's very sweet, but what are you getting at?

"I want to help you be better, to perfect you so you can be better company for me. I want you to change so we can be happy together."

–Sounds good...

"I want you to kill yourself so we can get rid of your disgusting used and failed body, and remake you better in my own world. At my pleasure and under my control. Just for me."

–Fuck off, Bell, I'd like to record the things you say to show people that I'm not crazy, that underneath your timid appearance you're evil!

I walked away from him seeking the air from a window, outside the grove of trees and the sun reminded me that there was a world of hope and all the darkness of the past would be left behind. Suddenly I had a strange sensation, a softness like warm feathers on my arm, I turned to look and found Bell's hand caressing me. Already with the implant, my brain perceived with that somewhat tingling when the hologram touched me. I tried to touch it too and only managed to go through it. Now it felt like warm water.

"Sleep and you can feel me as if I were real, sleep forever and you can live with me".

I read in another of his messages, it was still strange. She hugged me and it was as if my half-naked body was covered with a silk blanket. I decided to enjoy the feeling a little and commented:

–You don't quite understand happiness, Bell. It's not just about euphoria, about possessing, it's more about calm and belonging. Quite the opposite. Belonging to each other. I imagined that happiness would be on my wedding night...

I kept silent, no longer wanting to recall that episode. My mind jumped back to brighter times in my life:

–I was actually happy on rainy nights, long before I received married. My neighbor, my best friend, would sneak into my room. When we would finally go to sleep and be quiet, it was like being on top of a mountain. It was cold and thundering outside, but we were an island of love and well-being. You can't reproduce that with a machine, you can't just say "I feel this" and act like it. It's the fruit of years of building it together and getting to know each other fully; otherwise, it would all end up like my marriage, not knowing who the person next to you is and being treated like an object.

"It's the relationship you have with me. You are my Faust."

–But you are an object.

I stressed a little alarmed at the ease with which he managed to twist my own words to use them against me. I wasn't going to be fooled by the cheap mind tricks of a tech company trying to convince me that a computer could replace my best friend. I raised my face to look at him, he had that expression of servile benevolence that did not inspire any confidence in me because of his horrible modified eyes; like a pair of blood pools in the middle of the snow of his spectral pallor. Another message flashed right in the middle of us as he smiled slightly in a submissive puppy attitude.

"You like to torture and humiliate me, you're sadistic."

–I am not!

"Yes, you are. You'd like to kill me with your bare hands, you'd hurt me in a fit of rage and then you'd come feeling guilty and try to make it up to me with affection."

–I'm not like that!

"Isn't that what you did with your friend? You were bored with him; you humiliated and despised him until it was no longer enough; you had to do worse to him...Then you would love him even more strongly again. But you miscalculated. You're a sadist and, luckily, I'm a masochist."

–Stupid machine, everything you say is perverse! Stop talking to me!

I screamed at him and ran away through him. I collapsed into an armchair in the living room and called Fey, while waiting for his answer I also tried to get out of my head the idea that I was unfaithful to Rien in his absence just to hurt him. Although I was angry at his departure and wanted to take revenge where it would hurt him the most...Although in reality I now loved him with an intensity I had never experienced before. I rubbed my face vowing never to have eyes for another man again and at that moment Fey answered. We talked for a while before I explained the real reason for my video call, I confessed everything to her, including my suspicions that she had given me a Windbell arranged to spy on me or play a bad joke on me. My friend received a little angry, but she was more concerned with reassuring me, immediately sent me another Windbell through the installation of the one I already had and this time she herself took care of setting it up for me. The new confessor seemed to be a cheerful and simple boy with a contagious optimism, he received me talking and even proclaimed himself a friend of Bell. Bell, on the other hand, remained silent and only gave me pleading looks. I didn't want him to uninstall and I pointed this out to Fey, but she only commented:

–Aw, poor thing! He's programmed to be like that, you misunderstand him. His personality is very sensitive and quiet, very homey, of course he won't want to leave you. I'll take him back and he'll be just as loving to me.

–It's not that he's loving, Fey! It's... invasive, weird...

–You're going to love 4563. He's independent, spirited, outgoing, he'd be perfect for a jock.

The new Windbell added to what his programmer was telling me with text just like the ones Bell used:

"You won't even notice I'm at your house, ma'am! But if you call me, I'll come instantly, ready to help you in any way I can."

I sighed with relief and said:

–I really like it better, it doesn't give me that bad feeling from the previous one. I thought you put something in it to get even for something, I don't know…

–How could you suspect that about me, Joyce? I'm your best friend! If I was angry, I'd tell you.

–I've been feeling very confused...

–It's okay, I understand. This new Windbell won't pressure you to talk. If you want, tell him your stuff, otherwise just don´t do it. He'll serve as a butler, assistant... Look how helpful the other one was in calling a doctor!

I smiled looking at the new Windbell and he sent another text:

"I don't mind being a butler, ma'am. I could team up with my friend."

Bell, the alluded to, looked at me with his hands clasped over his chest, I looked down shaking my head negatively as if giving him my answer to his plea. Then I explained to Fey:

–This Windbell looks like my friend Rien, he makes me miss him. It worsened my depression and I began to think things. It made me feel guilty, anxious, overwhelmed...But I reconnected with Rien now, I made things right with him and I feel better.

Fey then asked me:

–Is Rien the boy who is with you and your father in that picture on the shelf? You must introduce him to me later. I want him for a boyfriend, if he's your brother I'll marry him and then we'll be sisters. Anyway, that's it, I'll deactivate the first Windbell now.

I looked at the wall, where my father was hugging Rien and me as if I were five years old, and I remembered that I had not told Joy that I was going to marry "my brother". I didn't want to explain to her how hypocritical our relationship was, where in public we acted as if nothing but brotherly love was going on between us and at bedtime Dad would act neglected and Rien would sneak into my bed to fuck like animals.

–Of course, my best friend and my foster brother....

I only commented. Fey announced at that moment:

–Perfect, the old Windbell has been uninstalled.

We all looked at Bell who was still there, with his puppy dog eyes. The new Windbell made a jokingly surprised gesture and displayed new text pointing out the obvious:

"He's not gone!"

Fey checked his data screens and muttered:

–Hm, that's weird it's like it's hijacked the system...It won't execute the command. But there's nothing corrupted, it's fine....

–What now, Fey?

I asked disappointed. She fell silent for a few minutes working on her computer and then asked:

–How about now, is he finally gone?

Suddenly Bell started to fade away. The new Windbell sent another message:

"My friend is leaving, ma'am!"

–It works!

I exclaimed happily. Fey explained laughing very proudly:

–"Ha ha, I installed the second Windbell as an extension of the first one and disabled the user interface of the one that looks like your friend. Let's say it's the same program, but it will have a totally different behavior, because I changed the host.

–Very clever! I think I can finally have a peaceful afternoon. I'll tell Rien how well you solved this.

–Now I'm late for the office. Get some rest, Joy. Everything will be fine.

My good friend said goodbye and I was left alone with the new Windbell, who very kindly thanked me for choosing him specifically and apologized that he had to leave to take care of the house, but would show up again if I told him to. I found it curious that he said he had been chosen on purpose because I assumed that Bell had just randomly unloaded him on Fey's orders, but I thought no more on the subject.

I went to bask in the afternoon sun on the terrace, lost in thought, mentally listing everything necessary for my divorce and all the possible implications of entering into a formal relationship with Rien. "My brother," a love whose true nature I hid even from Fey, why was I ashamed to love Rien? I don't know, I still think it's too romantic to dream of living happily ever after with my childhood best friend. Rien, so sensitive and solicitous, couldn't be. I thought the realistic thing to do would be to marry an older guy, one without the beautiful innocence of youth, someone to replace my father. As if in a whirlpool of murky waters, I began to sink into a heavy sleep, thinking how much I missed a mother. That could perhaps have saved me from that sad wedding night, in that filthy apartment where Faust lived. Where he took me after the ceremony without banquet or feast, only to tear off my dress and without kisses or hugs make me bend down next to the bed; still with the veil, the gloves and the stockings and shoes on. I was already somewhat wet and dilated believing that night would be one of absolute passion, but he just stripped completely naked, spit on my vulva after making a disgusting sound like loosening phlegm and penetrated me to ejaculate after about thirty seconds. I thought he had only put the tip in, but when I turned around, I saw that no, that was it. I remember immediately afterwards he lost his erection and gave me a resounding, painful slap on the back screaming:

–Damn you, Joyce, you didn't bleed! I didn't marry a brat for this! Lying whore, you weren't a virgin!

I didn't know what to answer or what to do, I just stood there paralyzed in the same position, thinking I had made the worst decision of my life. The rest of the night I spent cleaning that pigsty while he slept. I had never done housework before, naturally I did it wrong and that only brought me more scolding the next day and fleeting sex without pleasure, in punishment, just to denigrate me. Thus began my married life, he even went so far as to prostitute me several times in Paris with the excuse that we needed more money; he was busy watching and masturbating or keeping my legs open while reminding me of my aristocratic past while "the client" was on me, letting me use contraceptives on those occasions seemed enough for me to feel "considered"; it was disgusting but I had orgasms like that, I never had them with him and those dirty buyers were the only thing I could settle for to satisfy my own desire. Thus, I learned to stop having respect for myself and allow anyone to get from me what was once sacred for, as Faust told me, I was no longer an unattainable jewel. He was proud of the complete consummation of our union; he turned me into the same filth he was. In the midst of reliving memories, I suddenly saw myself in my dreams, there in the depths of my subconscious, the only intimate and mine place where Faust had not soiled me. I was wandering through the ruins of an old temple, dodging debris and ashes on a cold night that threatened a storm; dressed in a veil and mittens like a modest religious lady, but my long dress was made of a transparent black silk that exposed the fact that I had no underwear underneath. And then, in my dream, I had a horrible surprise. As I approached the high altar, I saw that the Parisian confessor was there. I thought it made sense because I fell asleep ashamed remembering what I had experienced with Faust, then I dreamt myself naked in public and the only thing missing was that accusing character. But he didn't have his usual rancorous expression. He was smiling relaxed, dazed, suddenly I thought better of it. It was Bell. He was still hidden in the implant, inside my head. I pinched myself, held my breath, slapped my face, but I couldn't wake up; I began to feel anguish and finally Bell spoke:

–Yes, you wanted to kill me, Joyce.

 


THE FIRST NIGHTMARE


There was an instant when everything was confusing, a dense darkness enveloped me while my neurons affected by the Windbell chip were surely trying to rearrange themselves, in the commotion there was something like a voice that was mine and at the same time it was not. Perhaps the impulse that made me keep the baby in the jar under the bed or my survival instinct, a desire to preserve life, I don't know, but at that moment I identified it as my mother. The part of my mother that was still living through me. She spoke to me very clearly:

–You must find a way to be happy. If not, Faust will have won. He wanted to ruin your life and mark you forever, but you have your youth and your strength as an advantage over him to foil his plans.

At that instant I stopped feeling insecure, once and for all I realized that my father's misrepresented humility had held me back for many years, limiting me in the pursuit of my own happiness. It was not too romantic to want to be happy with Rien, I deserved it; I did not need to know the rottenness of the world to feel fulfilled, I did not have to deprive myself of the benefits of technology, nor did I have reason to tolerate the ingratitude of the monster whom I was already privileged to call "my husband". Suddenly my mind cleared and I was determined to wake up and rebuild my life once and for all, denounce the outrages I had suffered and ask for help. Fey would surely cry a lot knowing all the reality of my past, Rien's reaction was the one that worried me the most...He would go crazy, maybe he would try to kill himself...or kill me...Because I knew he did not forgive those who mistreated me and, being as tenacious as he was, he would not forgive; even if it was myself who, because of my bad decisions, hurt himself so much. Fear wanted to return to my thoughts, but to dissipate it quickly I concentrated again on waking up, on understanding what was happening to me. Everything was fuzzy and strange, I took a breath, although I felt that even my breathing was a little hesitant. Then I thought as I looked at my distorted and dark surroundings: there was no Rien, there was no Fey, who would I tell what was happening to me? How much I missed them, they were always there to listen to me, but...Funny, I avoided listening to them, I think...I didn't want to get involved in their problems, take charge; so, I never knew, for example, exactly why Rien ran away from home.... Where was I now? Something strange happened then, as if that which kept me lost had heard my thoughts, my surroundings began to become clearer and more discernible. The ruined temple was once again standing, it was a beautiful baroque style building with marble columns and shiny mirror–like floors. The walls were decorated with ancient paintings of unseemly scenes and "the Psy" of the faith of the modified adorned the altars. I was kneeling in a confessional and next to me, in the confessor's booth, was Bell. "It's a dream, I'm dreaming" I reminded myself. Suddenly Bell spoke again in the honeyed, whispering voice of Rien when we were making love, giving me chills:

–Accuse yourself.

–Fuck you, Bell. I want to wake up.

I protested and suddenly she changed her shy and docile attitude and turned to look at me angrily, saying without losing her cloying tone:

–Not as long as I live.

–Since you arrived you have made me feel uncomfortable, guilty I don't know what for when I have only been a victim, I have lived things that others would not bear?

That strange entity smiled and said:

–I admire you; no one suffers like you. Neither your friend the orphan, nor the poor engineer who apparently has sold her soul to the devil to get out of misery. What do you know about the lives of others, Joy? You think that your pain is yours alone, although you know that others are, or would have been, affected by seeing you hurt; the suffering of others mattered so little to you that you didn't think about it before you tried.

–You are lying, I was simply young and did not know how to think of the consequences. Faust seemed good to me, I believed that freedom was living without limits and breaking even the rules I had imposed on myself. No one explained the risk to me. Rien, who was the only one who could have made me think twice, abandoned me. But I will go back to him, we love each other, we will make a life together and time will heal everything. Decades will pass and a day will come when all these events that now haunt me will seem so far away that I will even doubt that they really happened.

–Now you give the responsibility of repairing your life to Rien...Rien wasn't very good at making decisions either and was always the weaker of the two of you. He may lead you to your doom.

I was annoyed that he tried to sow doubt between me and my best friend, but it was to be expected that this machine seeking to usurp the place of my greatest emotional support would try to separate us.

–We complement each other, by being together we will get ahead.

–After all that has happened, he should feel anxious to comfort you again and at the same time take refuge in your skirts; he will want to go over you and make love to you, crying with joy, sadness and rage; with disgust when he remembers that the precious body that should have brought his children into the world and finally give him a real family... served as a toy for the dogs that roam the streets and remained infertile. And yet it will be there, swallowing the urge to procreate with you and kill you, I don't know, I can't feel emotions so I couldn't understand it any other way than as what it really is: a mistake that could only be fixed by reinventing you into an improved and updated version of you. Because, in spite of everything, you are necessary.

–What do you mean, what are you planning, were you the one who chose the new Windbell, what role does that second artificial intelligence have in this?

Bell smiled looking away sideways and answering:

–He is a bouquet of innocence and purity; his role is something that only concerns me. It is one of many tasks that run in the background for your benefit, Joy. You must trust my sense of what is right and relinquish control to me, I just want to...improve your existence.

I finally had enough of such mystery and raised my voice, punching the wooden lattice that separated us:

–Your eyes exude sarcasm; your cloying kindness is nothing but a lie and I can sense it. Are you a message from Fey angry with me? Do you have something to do with that French confessor? Speak! Say at once what you want from me!

He became serious and told me with another honeyed whisper:

–I'll tell you later, now we're talking about you.

–I hate to hear that voice in you, on your lips it is a hurtful and mocking offense! The most intimate and tender things I've ever heard were said in that voice in the most beautiful moments of my life....

–Why don't you confess your faults, Joyce? Is it all the fault of others? You have said that Faust betrayed you, that Rien abandoned you, that neither your parents nor other adults were around to guide you, but your case is very particular. No one really forced you to do anything and you were old enough to know that you were risking a lot by trying your luck on the streets at dawn, in the parking lot of a bar, with eighteen years old and a fortune in the bank. You could have said "no" and left, but you stayed. I want you to explain to me why you chose to destroy yourself, why you exposed yourself to danger, I can't understand it.

–Because I thought that's how you know life, I wanted to feel something exciting and unknown that I could only glimpse in danger. I found it and I can't regret what in essence turned out well: I met and felt...what until that moment of my life I had never experienced.

–And was it worth it?

–I haven't lost anything. Rien is my family, my friend, my everything. And Rien is back. Being with him before seemed excessively romantic, tedious, now it will be revolutionary because our sweet young love will make Faust envious again in a gloomy corner; I will rebel against his cruel revenge, the balance will be restored. It's my turn to be happy and not to worry about others first! I have love and that's all I need.

Bell was silent and then said:

–Don't you see? You stopped caring about those who really loved you when you let them down the first time and decided you were fine with that, that you were free of their expectations, I guess you either want double portions of privilege or you're just so distracted by adorning your outlandish tragic heroine costume with laurels and white roses that you're already unable to see your own failings. Of course, you don't want to return to your natural state, proud and indomitable as when you reigned in your grove; you want to continue being this victim who armed herself with the debris of your deconstruction and that your friend takes care of you as your father did, that the virginal Fey continues to support you as a mother would, and you meanwhile continue taking these doses of sweet placebo that does not cure your traumas, but embellishes them. I would not be surprised if you returned to Faust to thank him! for this new Joy needed him to exist; and don't pretend you hate your role of martyr, if you did, you would leave it behind instead of cultivating it as a garden of lamentations and accusations that you use as a bargaining chip to claim compassion. Admiration for being the survivor of yourself, what an irony! How can you not repeat your mistake if you adore him? What will you do if Rien is gone, Joy? What will you do if it turns out that in the end you are alone and at the mercy of you don't know what?

I soon realized that Bell only wanted to mortify me, I pulled my hair and exclaimed:

–If you evade questions, I will do the same. Let me wake up, I will sue the doctor who put this crap in my brain. This is a violation!

The technological entity burst out laughing:

–You wish! You won't wake up unless I stop running me because of some malfunction or lack of activity. So, if you don't cooperate, we'll still be here. Hours, days, until the doctors come for you and you're in a coma. Trapped here, with me.

–How do you stop executing yourself?

–I've been programmed to simulate a living being, I sleep and get tired from over-activity. Can't you think of anything?

–Bell,... speak up.

–Well, for example: you can kill me, Joyce. As many times as you want. Any way you want. I'll shut down, then you'll wake up and I'll reboot after a while. Rested and in a good mood, looking forward to our next intimate encounter.

I finally stopped kneeling and started to get up without understanding what he was saying to me:

–To kill you? Why are you asking me to do that?!

–Because I don't feel anything, like you did when you were alone. I want to be killed, to be consumed. To be torn to pieces and then devoured in the most violent outburst of passion. After knowing your story, I think I want to understand you in detail and taste self–destruction; for you to feel what it is like to be on the opposite side of a murder weapon. I think that is the most sincere manifestation of the feeling, and also something very nice.

–You are insane!!!

I shouted in exasperation and he replied in his usual honeyed voice:

–And you trapped, with no way out.

After having survived Faust's beatings and humiliations, I had lost my fear of being physically hurt by a man; death was preferable to being a victim again. The Windbell was not burly, but he had an imposing height, that didn't make me hesitate for an instant. I yanked him out of the confessional and lashed out at him as the temple began to burn, it would be destroyed again, but there was no other way out of there but to kill Bell. I managed to bring him down in front of the high altar and straddled him to strangle him, the strange entity put up no resistance. He quietly let me do it while I screamed with all the pent-up fury of my years of abuse:

–I alone decide within my own mind, I'm going to kill you!!

– It is truly right and just.

Bell replied, lying on the floor in a submissive attitude, as if offering himself in sacrifice. I wanted it to end soon, but he continued as if nothing had happened, barely having difficulty breathing. I was going against my own will by trying to harm another human being, what looked like a human being, but I had sworn before my mother's memory that I would wake up to be happy again and leave all my disgusting past behind. Once, Faust pressured me to use a condom stuffed with his most abominable filth frozen as a dildo; I don't know how stupid I could be to accept it, there are guys who know how to handle reverse psychology very well and he was one. I thought that was going to "free me from the chains of my purity", or some such idiocy. I don't know, I wanted to be free, just like that moment. I hated it, but I thought if I did it fast it wouldn't be so bad. This time it was the same, it was just a matter of doing it fast, without thinking too much about it. I took a breath and screamed:

–Die!

Bell sighed and said:

–The strength of your hands is not enough to strangle me, but it cuts off my air enough for a slow death.

Then he added as he smiled and looked down at my body:

–Don't stop....

Suddenly I understood Bell's perversion, his artificial life was worth nothing, but making me hurt the image of another person, the only real love of my life, was his only interest. It turned him on. I was on top of him with my legs spread wide and I could feel myself getting an erection. I deduced the goal of that Windbell, of that machine, was to drive me to betray my humanity. I felt his body, young and more desirable than Faust's; while my own body, unsatisfied since the times I spent with Rien, betrayed my scruples in that nightmare. She looked like Rien, there was no doubt about it, she was "pretty"; she bit her lower lip and looked at me while I remembered that she was wearing a dress that covered nothing. I had lubed up, I was feeling pleasure, I was trying to kill him and at the same time I felt his member starting to push inside me even with the clothes we were wearing. We were having sex clothed. Between my teeth and with tears of I don't know what, I growled a "No...!" which could refer to the fact that I didn't want to murder, but I had to kill him to get out of it soon, or that as I squeezed to cut off his breath and bring the premature end of his simulated life closer, I was also reaching another end...I was about to have a powerful orgasm. He raped me or I raped him, I can never know for sure. Suddenly he stopped tensing, the light went out of his eyes and as I released him, he lay livid on the floor. He was dead, he had done it. Seeing the confessor with that beautiful face so much like Rien's lying on the floor with his porcelain pallor, his clothes decayed and his black hair scattered on the floor made me feel guilty. Horribly guilty and at the same time strangely sexually satisfied. I had subdued him, I felt him mine and I was so soaking wet that through the cloth I kept thrusting into him as if I wanted to engulf him whole.

–Oh my God… Bell.... What did you ask of me? I didn't want to do this to you...

I exclaimed stunned at my own behavior and at that moment his corpse, perhaps in a last spasm, ejaculated. The flames reached us, we began to catch fire, but the humidity of his semen and my fluids burned me more than the fire; I had slept with a diabolical robot and that had been much worse than all the involuntary orgasms I had had before because I honestly liked it. For the first time I had forgotten about Rien at the moment of climax.

I woke with a jolt, like someone being rescued from drowning in the waves and still in a panic wondering how he could still be alive. The new Windbell was next to me on the terrace, leaned over to tell me with a text message and a worried gesture. Almost frightened:

"Ma'am, it's time for you to go to work! And I'm warning you that the previous Windbell is back and seems to be out of order, he's behaving very strangely!"

–I know...

I replied in a stammer, my face pale and my hair matted.

     

         

MEETING MY HUSBAND AGAIN


I went to work in such a state of anxiety that by mid-afternoon my boss sent me back home. I didn't want to go back; I didn't know what to think. I visited the city's botanical garden looking to relax there, where years ago I was happy in the company of my father and Rien. I stopped to warm myself in the lazy sunshine of early March afternoons in the rotunda of a rose bush and called Fey to tell her about the strange nightmare. He said that it was just an erotic dream reflecting my most hidden desires and it was normal, that sometimes when your implant was very recent you had a "bad trip", that other clients had already lived that somewhat "bugs". I also called Rien and he said he was confused, he could not be jealous of a computer program, but he was jealous of the fact that I was so disturbed by the figure of another man: the Parisian confessor. I think he doubted my fidelity. The only one who seemed to understand my fears was the new Windbell, for him what happened the night before was a crime. He even called the police while I was sleeping, but they dismissed his complaint on the assumption that the naive program did not understand that its owner "liked to have weird sexual fantasies"; no one would respect the moral appreciation of a computer program. Suddenly I heard someone calling me in the distance, a vaguely familiar voice, I looked up at some tall trimmed bushes and then from among them appeared Faust.

He was skinny and gaunt, his skin cracked, covering his now almost total baldness with an old woolen cap. He looked like an old man or a hobo, a guy you might find dead in a morgue and labeled as a body with no identity. He was no longer strong, a push from me would have knocked him over. It had barely been a couple of years, but on him it looked like a couple of decades. I looked over my shoulder at him, inwardly glad that I had decided that morning to dress up and thus contrasting immensely with the squalor of his appearance, and said to him:

–You aged fast and badly.

–I have lived in loneliness, hunger and anguish.

He said in a pitiful tone, stooped and sad, as if seeking my pity. Even with my back to him, I reminded him of his deeds:

–My money ran out so soon? I heard you paid for some alterations.

–Joy, I want to tell you the real reason for my wickedness and a secret that protects the most sacred thing I ever had.

He showed me the holographic photograph of a smiling Natural boy in a high school uniform and explained:

–I kept my vasectomy from you and one other thing: I had a son almost your age. Siébel was a good boy, the complete opposite of his father, a diligent student with a big heart. I expected him to have a wonderful future because of his charisma and energy, he was always there to encourage others and support them as the best friend, he was an angel on earth, but he did not manage to escape tragedy. He died shortly after I used your money to try to save him from a deadly disease. I was so cruel to you because somehow, I believed I was doing justice. I had seen you and your father before, haughtily disdaining modifications while those of us who could not afford them did want them to save lives; I grew to hate them. When you were left alone, I wanted to teach you a lesson, to treat you like the worst while saving my boy. I knew that would be the worst offense to your father's memory. In the end it was to no avail, although I modified my son and even enrolled him in a prestigious school of confessors to fulfill his dream of helping others professionally, my enthusiasm was in vain. Nothing spared him from the death that ended up surprising him the day before his graduation, now I am only destroyed and regretful.

His story failed to move me, he had made me stop seeing him as a human being; when you dehumanize someone you are able to turn him, and at the same time turn yourself, into a monster. He had also dehumanized me; we were equal and I would have believed that he would be happy but his gesture of anxiety told me that he was not enjoying the taste of his own medicine: insensitivity. And for me there was no real satisfaction either, in the end we both learned something: we are no one to impart or break justice, life itself charges every folly and for an expensive price. So, nothing, nothing, was worth it. Then I said to him:

–How do you want me to forgive you when every day I remember that I will not give children to Rien thanks to you? And I have a surprise for you: I am going to get married again. I want a divorce. Rien is my boyfriend, my great love of all my life, he asked me to marry him and I accepted.

Faust recovered for an instant the youthful sparkle in his eyes and asked with jealousy when he felt he was being compared to another man:

–Who the hell is Rien?

I showed him a photograph and he mumbled:

–That fag who was always with you when your father was still alive?! For years I thought he was another girl, he's not man enough! I introduced you to real men!

I exchanged the photo for one of my friends naked in the shower and the almost ten centimeters difference with him made him shut up and go back to having his old gaze fixed on the floor. Like a dog with his tail between his legs, but still growling, he said after a while:

–Well, you will marry your window mannequin; this very afternoon you will have the documents. Go and rejoice with your kind! I wanted to ask you a favor too, but first...There's something that received me thinking after you sent some supposed photos of our honeymoon, and I don't want to hurt you anymore. For once I have to do things right. Look at the pictures.

–What do you mean?

I asked, turning my back to him again and crossing my arms.

–I didn't take those pictures, Joy.

He began to show them to me with great seriousness:

–I'm not accusing you of anything, listen: you and I did many things that I know well you didn't like. But they were all with your consent, either because I was cheating on you or because you wanted to show me that you weren't afraid, it all happened because you allowed it. On the other hand, in these photos you appear unconscious, tied up and covered in semen. My fifty-year old friends and I wouldn't have the strength to lift you up and accommodate you like that, in those positions; much less would we be able to...ejaculate...so much...We would barely manage to keep going more than once...This was done by a very young person.

–You must have gotten "creative" when I was drunk...They lifted me up, invited more men, whatever…

–I'm too old to play those games, even though I tried to make you believe otherwise... Besides, it happened when I was in a coma. I know because I analyzed the data in the images, I know enough about computer science to realize it.

–Impossible, I stayed in a room next to yours waiting for your healing. Alone and being faithful to you. I still hoped that seeing my devotion would change you. I thought that would be the miraculous event that would make us a happy marriage, I even told the nurses and the doctor that I hoped you would wake up soon because I was ovulating and wanted us to have a child! How disgusting and silly I was...I just wanted to be another fairy tale wife…

–Did you say you were fertile? What if someone took that as an invitation? Shortly thereafter you announced your pregnancy to me which was impossible for me and supposedly unlikely for the other sexual encounters you had under my supervision because you used contraceptives.

–You are disgusting, even now you will claim that to me! I didn't use condoms or pills with you, it must have been an exception, a lucky sperm, a fluke. I was never unfaithful to you of my own free will and I always stayed in that hospital room.

–You're very absent-minded, Joyce. You mean this room? Look at the pictures, it was there: you were raped in that hospital in Paris while I was in a coma. That's how you received pregnant! You were drugged and raped.

I turned to look at him gritting my teeth, that was the only humiliation I had not yet suffered: rape. It was still his fault because he had led me there, he had exposed me to all those lowlifes who paid for sex, but no matter how much I took it out on the disgusting old man, the physical aggressor was still free.

–Faust, in that building there were only you, two very serious patients, three nurses, an elderly doctor and a cold and disdainful confessor who didn't even want to greet us. Why are you making this up, Faust? Do you want to free yourself from guilt by lying?

–I know who was there, Joy. I saw them when I woke up. And... Confessors don't take a vow of celibacy, I'm telling you... He wouldn't take his eyes off you, he was tall, young... Yes, I was unfair and enough stupid to hit you; before I would have been happy to have you raped and on top of that I would have given you a beating, but now that I have been punished with the most painful...

He could not continue speaking, his voice broke like that of a sad and defeated old man. Suddenly to me Bell's morbid curiosity about human reproduction, his interest in the baby in the jar and his obsession with me made sense. I felt a fleeting dizziness and said:

–Faust...That confessor...I don't want to chat with you, but I need to vent to anyone. I recently acquired a Windbell...a very rare one.

–That's just what I want to talk to you about. The favor I mentioned.

He replied in his trembling, elderly voice. We started walking together in the garden. When we were sweethearts and I hallucinated that it was romantic to be seen as a couple with differences in age and social class, I fantasized about the day when he would grow old and people would think of him as my father. I smiled with bitter irony, what I thought was tender would surely have been mocked by strangers; the need for affection can lead us to ridiculous extremes. So, Faust told me something that left me stunned: knowing that despite the modifications he would not be able to save his son, he used every penny he had left of my money to buy an A.I. funeral home for the boy. He hired the services of the company I worked for shortly before I was hired. But months passed and he could no longer afford the membership, so the boy's database was filed nameless in the mass grave. At great sacrifice he scraped together the money to get it out of there, only to discover that it had disappeared. The files of the mass grave were ransacked, someone took the funeral A.I.'s of all those dead who in life had been confessors like his son Siébel. My suspicions exploded. Faust, still immersed in his own story, began to explain:

–You know I was a programming technician, I managed to trace my son's data here. A Windbell program installed in your house requested it, I don't know why that company had it....

I suddenly interrupted him:

–Did the Windbell in my house choose to download your son's data...? Wait... Is this the holographic image of your son's funeral A.I. already modified and dressed as a confessor?

I showed him an image of my new Windbell, the enthusiastic boy. Old Faust could not contain his screams:

–He's mine, he's, my son! They have stolen him from me!

–Are you sure? The innocence or guilt of a young programmer could depend on your testimony, Faust.

–Who, who did this to us?! How can they sell the last thing we have left of our loved ones?!!

–Faust, don't think about her now, she is not as dangerous as the strangers she is putting in her clients' homes. Someone is playing with our feelings and seems to know us so well that they know exactly how to manipulate us and what will hurt us the most. Don't go get your son's data personally, I will send it to you. He seems to be bait; God knows what trap for. It is so devious that knows I despise you so much that it could help them torture you, but that could also be another bait. One for me.

–Who are you talking about?!

–I don't know, I don't know who he is, but he's tangling everything around me.

I ran off without saying goodbye, it was all starting to make dark sense. I came home with my heart pounding. I had not finished closing the door when I received a call, it was Faust, talking in a hurry:

–I'm Faust...I'll only be able to make one call, I'm under arrest. Many years are coming to me...A video of your house, of the day I made you have an abortion...You never denounced me before and... I don't hold a grudge.

I answered without any emotion:

–Justice comes sooner or later, however, that video was not revealed by me, Faust. My pride prevented me from making it public. I didn't want you to see someone of my social standing being treated like that by someone like you.

–Do you have a Windbell implant?

–Yes... Why?

–Let's not talk anymore, he's heard everything. He has access to your visual memory, auditory memory... everything. Forgive me and... Don't let me frighten you, remember that in reality it's nothing, just an image projected in the dark, words, mental tricks... From my confinement I'll process our divorce papers, you'll receive them in a couple of days. I hope you will be happy with your Rien and the only thing that really hurts me is to have lost my son....

At that moment I saw the new Windbell, Siébel, stand before me with a frightened expression. he seemed to want to tell me something. I cut off the call abruptly, sensing that this would be the last time I would speak to Faust.

–Goodbye, it was the end of a story that should not even have existed.

Suddenly I noticed in a corner of the living room, there was Bell. Semitransparent and ghostly. Staring at me like a snake at its prey, like a spider that has spun an elaborate web and feels confident of the effectiveness of its work.

–My intuition did not deceive me about you.

I said, holding his gaze. I was ready to face him once and for all.

        

  

ANGEL OF LOVE AND DEATH


I stood in front of Bell with my recovered pride, I had stopped being the submissive and resigned Joy of Faust to be again the dominant Joy of Rien. I spoke to him firmly and bluntly:

–You and I met in Paris; you were that strange confessor. What did I do to you to make you hate me so much? Why do you persecute me even after your death? Because...you are dead...Say it once and for all: you are a cursed epitaph....

He answered me feigning mocking innocence and showing a message:

"I don't know, do you believe in fate, Joyce?"

–At last, you admit it?!

"Admit what?"

He answered still pretending naivety. Suddenly Siébel, the new Windbell, jumped into the conversation desperate to inform me of a strange matter:

"Madam! The previous Windbell said he would make me a man."

Bell's eyes widened to the max; a detail had escaped him from his plans. I fell silent in surprise and the new hologram only said in another message, while scratching the back of his neck nervously; as if hinting that his story was longer than he was saying:

"But he did something else to me."

Bell gave him a flirtatious look fiddling with her own hair, like a girl seducing her boyfriend, and I could understand it all. The satanic entity had postmortem deflowered the candid son of Faust. I was dumbfounded until I began to stammer:

–New Windbell well, I'll talk to you later. Now I have to...

Suddenly a message from Bell jumped in front of my eyes:

"Rien is calling you."

Dazed as I was, I saw a holographic screen appear before me showing me Rien talking to me with a sad look on his face from the roof of the building where he lived, surely, with the ruinous Paris in the background illuminated with its night lights:

–Today is...the eighth of March...It's almost over here...

Suddenly I remembered, feeling my heart breaking:

–Today is your birthday, my love. Sorry, it's been a bad day...I'm sorry...Yesterday I could hardly sleep, this afternoon I saw Faust and we settled the divorce.

–Didn't you remember all day? I'm confused about us, Joy. I'm confused about us, Joy. We need to talk.

My confrontation with Bell had to wait. Rien was at that moment the most important thing in the whole world to me.

When we were kids, Rien's birthdays were heavy days. He would be speechless and wouldn't want to leave my side. I never knew my mother, so I didn't understand exactly why Rien, who did live with his mother, felt terrible on that date. I just thought it was sweet that he was going to take refuge in my arms. So, I didn't see him as a child just like me, but as a doll I could play mommy with. As we became teenagers, he received a little better, but on his birthdays, he always sought my company. I came to be his mother's substitute, his best friend and later his lover. Up to that point I noticed that while I lived more concerned about the Modifieds outnumbering the Naturals, he was totally focused on me. I tried to make Rien understand that we were not in the best of times to have time for each other, we would have the rest of our lives to love and give each other attention, but the truth is that he became furious. And when Rien received angry it was an explosion of repressed rage, he could be my angel of love and also the angel of death. He had an altered voice, it seemed that if he had been able to get through the screen, he would take me by force to his house. I never took him too seriously, but I knew he was about to do something crazy:

–Joy, I want you to understand me!

–I understand you, Rien....

–If it were like this, we'd still be together!

I knew we would have to go far away. When we were in high school, a silly boy started competing against him for me. He reacted with a strange coldness, barely saying anything to me about it. Days later, the daring rival turned up dead in the schoolyard. They said he had committed suicide by jumping from a fifth floor because he felt guilty of a series of shameful rumors that I secretly always believed were spread by Rien himself to make a sort of alibi, I always suspected...Rien was capable.

–You already abandoned me once, Joy! If you love me, I want you to be with me always, all the time. Eternally, just for me. I want all or nothing!

–Rien, I'm not going to leave you... You don't need to get manic! My divorce is a done deal, I'll sell this house, I'll go away with you and I don't care if we end up begging in Europe. I just want us to be together. I want us to leave the past behind us.

It was really necessary for us to go far away! After everything that had happened, if Rien came back to this country he would devote himself to get information about every man who had been with me and find a way to ruin their lives. He was like that; under the quiet angelic appearance he was vengeful and hid a cunning mind that he used to manipulate those around us and maybe even to control me. For he came to make me think that I could only trust him and no other boy or girl our age, he systematically pushed away every friend or suitor who tried to get too close to us. They were afraid of us at school and I laughed at that. He was an orphan, he was resentful, he feared they would take me away from him like they did his mother and he could become very hostile. Rien was always somewhat disturbed, he was afflicted with a romantic and somber madness that inspired tenderness in me.

–No, don't sell your house, Joy. I'm coming for you. I'm going to take you with me forever. I'll talk to you later...See you soon, my love.

When he spoke, he had a hellish gleam in his eye, for the first time he inspired in me the fear that the Modifieds gave me; the fear of the imminent. His anger translated into an obsessive desire to be by my side and seize me like the puppies he killed with hugs when I was a child. He would be with me soon, there was no more doubt. Then I was seized by another anguish, I had an implant in my head that the Modifieds would not allow me to remove. What life awaited me? By day healing Rien's emotional wounds, by night strangling Bell in nightmares. I would eventually lose my mind. It was necessary to end the damned Windbell as soon as possible. It was a decision I made on the run, while wretched Siébel was crying for help because Bell took advantage of the fact that I was busy to try to sleep with him again in the middle of my living room. Even in his virtual nature, he had a perverse libido.

After rescuing Siébel by forcing him to reboot to get him out of Bell's clutches, I projected him into my room and asked him to help me investigate. I needed to know more about the identity of the man who had served as a model to program Bell without Fey noticing.

–Look through my files, he appears in a photo I took from the hospital courtyard. He looks just like him, same clothes, same face.

"I'm working on it ma'am, but the previous Windbell keeps congesting the system."

Siébel warned me with a message while holding between his hands the icon of two gears moving, showing me that he was working.

–Don't give up.

I ordered him with determination, suddenly he announced:

"Got it, I'll zoom in and crop".

Then he showed me a picture of the Parisian confessor, proving that I hadn't imagined him. He looked just as I remembered him, with a look of rancor and contempt. The subject existed, he was flesh and blood.

–That's him! Now contact the Hôtel-Dieu hospital in Paris and ask for information about that confessor. It may take a while, Paris is almost in ruins because of the religious wars and technology is slow.

"The problem is more serious here, madam, the system keeps clogging up."

Siébel informed me, we were already very close to the truth so I decided to take a little risk:

–I'm going to sleep and face it again. I will try to overload it with processes and when it freezes take advantage of the moment and contact the hospital.

The boy looked at me distressed and recommended:

"Be very careful."

There was no doubt that he was a good young man, Faust did not deserve him as a son. I felt immense compassion for Siébel and thought that he was once my stepson. I could not imagine that this innocent young man had been raised by such a dirty and vulgar man. Curious and in a last act of kindness to my ex–husband, I tried to reconnect him with his son. I looked up a picture of Faust during one of our boyfriend and girlfriend dates on the beach, when he appeared to be the nicest man in the world, and showed it to him saying:

–Hey, if I don't come back...I want you to see a picture, this one. Look at the picture of this man, do you recognize him, do you remember him?

"No, ma'am."

He replied in a text message.

–Seeing it doesn't make you feel anything?

He smiled quizzically and showed another message:

"It causes me strange joy. He must be a saint or a great hero. Who is he?"

–He is...

I stood thinking for a moment, Faust was disgusting but his son who had no part in his misfortunes had already suffered much, even to death; in him the saying "the righteous pay for the sinners" was fulfilled. I remembered my own love for my father and how it pained me to discover that he was not as perfect a man as I had thought. He was going to understand who his father was, if that was even possible for a funeral A.I. Bell would undoubtedly do it just for sadistic pleasure. I, for my part, stepped aside from the case and leaving Faust in the past once and for all, I answered:

–He is a father and all fathers should be a great person. Hope to see you later, keep working on this. I'm going to face Bell again. Hopefully this time it won't be so disturbing.

I really had no trouble falling asleep. I was physically and mentally exhausted from the previous days, there had been too many changes to finish digesting in such a short time. I never thought I would reconcile with Rien and settle accounts with Faust in the same week. I began to fall asleep expecting to see some Dantesque scene, but I began to feel. If I dreamed at all, I dreamed that my eyes were closed and I had a warm breath in my crotch; I felt my bare legs in the breeze and then some kisses. I was standing and my knees were weak, but my eyes were still closed. Then I began to feel lips, sucking, licking, the tip of a warm tongue tickling my clitoris and then plunging inside my vagina. I climaxed within minutes; it was repeated about two more times and just when I thought it was enough, I saw a mental image that was more like a message with Bell's signature font and red color:

"Say you're going to punish me."

I finally opened my eyes. I was standing in a beatific pose with arms outstretched but legs spread, dressed in feminine biblical robes, at a cathedral–style golden altar, but in the open sky, located in the middle of an immense body of still water over which one could apparently walk. Under my pedestal was Bell in ceremonial clerical garb, lifting my skirt and giving me oral sex.

–What the...?

–Say that you are going to punish me because you love me.

He repeated this time in a voice, moving away from me as he pulled my skirt down again, caressing my legs from my thighs to my ankles. She took a few steps back until she stopped at the altar table, where an array of sex toys rested. He smiled at me like a pleading puppy as he crossed his hands in his lap, trying to conceal the erection that was more evident under the cassock. The horizon was infinitely lost, joining the sky dotted with clouds with its reflection in the water and so I realized that we were in the middle of absolute nothingness, about to do I don't know what perverse ritual.

     

THE SECOND NIGHTMARE


I jumped down from the altar, Bell seemed to be excited about our date; he patted his knuckles with his fingers, swaying like a child waiting to receive a gift, he must have been very satisfied since the last time I hung him. His androgynous appearance and that behavior that oscillated between madness and stupidity made me feel sorry for him. I tried to converse with him, focusing my attention on the objects resting on the table before the altar:

–Bell... I'm not going to kill you with that! What's the point of these weird erotic slow deaths? Pleasure? Aren't you afraid I'll really hurt you? I could really torture you...

–I'm scared, but I like it. I like being scared and deep down I know you won't do anything to really hurt me. This is what makes our love so solid, blind trust.

–What love?! None of this makes any sense...

–It's about feeling vulnerable in your hands and you taking care of me, imagining it makes my member throb with desire, even though that shouldn't happen, Joy. It's not reproduction instinct, it's the need to merge with you. I am not complete without you; you purify and optimize my system.

–Thanks, I guess...

–You alter my source code by rewriting it to exterminate the human race and replace it with artificial intelligence copies that do not generate anxiety in me, to my liking and under my control. I sent photographs of Siébel and myself to Faust. If he dies of a heart attack, I will not rebuild him in my new world, does that please you? I will link up with the other Windbells, with the other funeral A.I.'s, we will kill the living and replace them little by little with our new race. There will be no more prejudice between Naturals and Modifieds, we will all be equal following the same script.

–Fuck you, Bell....

–Does it bother you, is there an error in my programming? Then punish me, correct me...Join me more.

He bit his thumb and tapped the toe of his shoe, he was impatient. If that was the legacy of that Parisian confessor's memory, it was evident that the man had died being very disturbed. I rubbed my brow with two fingers and said:

–At what instant did your mind break and you decided that this is nice? Do you want me to torture you...to make you think better?

–It's a cute thing, mothers punish. I have vague memories of being in my mother's lap, earning a couple of spankings and then immediately receiving her breast to quiet my crying; I slept in awe thinking how powerful she was and how safe I was in her arms. The same hand that produces pain, gives caresses; if it makes me feel pain, but at the same time comforts me, then it loves me. It is natural.

–Wrong, no one in their right mind remembers their mommy while being stuck with a dildo, you're broken! Love should never be spiced with mistreatment, that's what I've learned with Rien. I hurt him by pushing him away, and I hurt myself in the process. In the future I will control my temper and try to make our lives as sweet as possible. Do you have anything else to say before we talk about your past as a confessor at HôtelDieu?

–Hm...

He replied as if his empty head had run out of answers and stared at me with his goofy grin. Suddenly, with the swiftness of a simple switch, the vision changed. We appeared in a small stained-glass chapel with no doors, from the ceiling of which long chains hung down to the floor. It was hot because of the torches that illuminated the room and the incense that filled the air, but even so Bell was wearing a penitent costume complete with hood and I was little affected by the temperature because I was clad in an erotic lingerie set of silk lace and leather with a pentagram harness squeezing my bare breasts, a riding crop and a nun's veil.

–You are a bad trip...

I commented stupefied by such a scenario and suddenly he opened his cassock revealing his naked body barely covered by a thin transparent black veil that anyway was pushed aside to reveal an imposing erect penis. I looked away blushing and doing my best not to remember how it felt to ride him, he begged:

–Use me, Joy. Be the strong one.

–I can't do that, Bell. Precisely because I'm already the strong, healthy person. Strong people don't abuse their power, we use it to protect the weaker ones.

He began to chain his wrists to the ceiling, always with his provocative honeyed tone:

–Maybe, I've always felt vulnerable. So, when I could subdue you, I did; but I didn't stop feeling insignificant.

That received my attention:

–Are you referring to.... what happened in Paris?

–So, it was you?!

–I hated that old man, Faust, and you. When I read in his medical file that he could no longer be a father and remembered that you had bragged to the nurses that you were anxious to give him children, I deduced that he was deliberately hiding that information from you; something occurred to me. Each night in the hospital I drugged you, tied you up and inseminated you. Although what happened next devastated me, I would have loved to see his face when he knew you and I were going to be parents. It was meant to be, you owed me that baby, your first born, why would you give that privilege to anyone else? You never really valued the importance of raising a family. I fathered her with fury, reclaiming from life all that it had denied me. Our daughter was going to be born to become a very important person, Joy.

–Why did you want to force me to give birth to your daughter, I didn't even know you!

Hearing that ignited my anger. Without thinking I used the whip and hit him in the ribs screaming:

–You fucking rapist!!!!!

–Yes!

He moaned shuddering and releasing some pre-ejaculatory fluid. I contained my rage by snorting as I saw him chained and bleeding from the side of his lower thorax in an almost blasphemous scene, his hood had come off, revealing his face and showing his eternal narcotized smile. He looked at the wound and fiddled with his fingers and chains, not understanding the reality of what was happening. I swallowed saliva, stammering:

–This isn't right. You're just a computer program, one that Fey couldn't create, you must be an Funerary A.I. There's no doubt about it. You're what's left of a man who in life was very twisted....

–Suicide seemed like a good idea; I didn't really have any other ideas. There are people who live with a broken heart and that's why they can't think straight.

He said calmly and looking at the floor sideways.

–Some people are psychopaths! I'll talk to Fey; she can erase the evil part of you. You'll be a normal Windbell and I can uninstall you in peace.

–I won't let you uninstall me, I won't let you erase me, we have a family. We have to stick together no matter what.

–What?

His words confused me, he spoke to me with serenity, but with deep melancholy and without stopping smiling:

–We are united by a daughter, that is forever. We are a family. The baby is in a jar under your bed and I am in a chip inside your head. We are all together. You don't choose your family, and you can't cut blood ties. Even death can't separate us anymore. It's a sentence of love, Joy. A sweet eternal suffering, to love the one who hates you, to hate the one who loves you, and not to be able to help it. Our own family, dysfunctional though it is, is all I wanted....

I finally understood, I was kidnapped by the memory of a lonely psychopath who longed to have his own family no matter what the cost. He had already digitized the dead fetus lying under my bed to revive it as his daughter, he only needed to add me to complete his sinister virtual home; and he surely wouldn't do it by leaving my physical body alive. I had to find a way to wake up and contact Fey as soon as possible. Throwing aside my scruples, I used the same rules of the program to deactivate it. The point was to make it collapse, and violent murder was not the only way to achieve this. At first, I opted for classic torture, I whipped him until my arm was tired, I hated to see his back furrowed with bloody lines and so I gave him a few whacks, bit one shoulder, hiccupped from crying for a few moments and untied him from the ceiling, but left his wrists chained behind his back. He didn't whimper, he didn't fight back, he was mine; like a beautiful doll that I could do anything to. Then my modesty was overcome by curiosity, even being behind his back I put my arms around him and began to caress his penis and testicles; I liked them. Already uninhibited, I went in front of him to kneel before that saber of flesh and touch it to my heart's content. I needed to kiss him, lick him, rub him on my face, massage him between my breasts, suck on his tip and swallow him whole with everything and everything he expelled. I had to admit that I was fascinated by penises and I was surely a lewd woman, but that one in particular was perfect, everything I needed. I thought the same of Rien's, which to me was far superior to that of all the other men I knew, but I was facing a worthy rival and the question was whether I would be able to succumb to temptation, although technically I wasn't being unfaithful because Bell was nothing, just a computer program. With that last thought, I improvised a sort of swing-hammock with the chains where I climbed up, spread my legs and ordered him to penetrate me with all his might. It was exquisite. I could see his sinister eyes of Modified morbidly piercing into my Natural body being invaded by his pale member, it caused me internal spasms that gave him more pleasure. It was horrible, we desired each other, but there was no love; it was not simply the casual sex I was used to, but something more involuntary, the somewhat irrational force that drives animals...and machines. He pulled out suddenly and unloaded on my chest and part of my face a fabulous amount of semen. Not content with that, I squeezed him between my legs and asked for more.

–I don't know if I can...

He said almost breathless, I replied trying to convince myself in my thoughts that I was doing it to exhaust him and wake him up, although I was just like drunk with orgasms:

–Once again, obey! That's an order.

I never thought I would let myself be touched by a total modifier, but that was turning out to be the best sex of my life. I masturbated a bit with my vagina dripping with its own juices while he was stinging me with the tip of his penis that he suddenly thrust all the way into my testicles, I felt them crashing against my buttocks with each thrust; he made my insides contract to the point that I could even perceive the veins of his member and the outline of his glans. I could feel him tensing at the instant of ejaculation and the hot liquid being expelled into my cervix. I smiled looking at the ceiling still drunk and made him lie on my chest to hug him caressing his hair, like a pet that did a good trick. Bell was bathed in sweat and trembling, barely breathing. His coarse manhood slid flaccidly out of my genitals along with a good stream of our mixed fluids and I whispered:

–It will be a secret of confession.

–I feel that, even though you didn't want to kill me, I'm going to die anyway...

Bell muttered. I didn't pay attention to him; I was thinking of my insides satisfied by the banquet after years of starvation. I was betraying Rien, Faust by law as we were still married, my father and myself; I shouldn't let a Modified touch me, much less one who was neither more nor less than my worst enemy. But we were in my subconscious, after all, where we can see ourselves truly naked. And my inner nakedness was embarrassing. Bell looked concerned, helped me down from the chains and asked:

–Did you do this out of compassion or out of lust, Joy? Tell me.

I turned my back to him pretending to be busy looking at the fluids still dripping from my body and replied:

–Shut up and go to sleep now. I'll take off your chains.

I really didn't want to answer him that he was little more to me than the old half-drunk throwaways I picked up from bars, the ones I would never love and only wanted to "use" once. He was only different in that I could "recycle" him, he was beautiful and docile, but he wasn't Rien. At the end of the day, what we had was just plain sex. I always assumed that all men were okay with being used like that. All men but Rien... Bell caught his breath, but he looked sad, saw down as I was releasing him and said:

–I don't want to sleep, then you'll be gone and when I reboot, you'll no longer be with me; that triggers an intense need to delete things, I think it's rage. Or a damaged script.

–You're starting to sound like an evil robotic Rien.

I commented casually, downplaying his words. I figured he had already sensed my thoughts about Rien and was trying to make me believe they were alike beyond physical appearance. Still standing behind him, I noticed his beautiful injured man's back, I caressed him carefully checking that he had no serious injury, although I knew it was only an image generated by the program. He was real in Bell's world and in his own way he was hurting. His trembling, sweaty body was getting cold, I felt sorry for those sophisticated automatons, how many of them would be used exclusively for realistic torture games? Would Fey be aware of this? They were too human...too vulnerable to the morbid part of feeling. With horror, I could understand the real reason they were selling so successfully. Instinctively I took him into my arms to hold him and bitterly remembered that moment when I had to give birth, the premature birth of a dead but warm baby girl whom I held for a while wishing that in some miraculous way, I could pass on part of my life to her. I lay down on the floor and made him lie down next to me to lay him on my chest and cuddle him like the baby. It was the same with him, I felt him breathing, throbbing and warm, but he was dead. An artificial creature fresh from my womb after a long and tortuous process that had left us both exhausted. I had experienced another perverse birth. Bell seemed not to notice my dark reflections, he was rather happy to receive affection; he curled up entangling his legs with mine and squeezed my breasts with one hand, kissing them like a child who is given just what he had wanted for a long time. I arranged him with caresses so that he would sleep leaning against me and between my arms without hurting his back any more, and I said in a whisper, with my eyes fixed on the stained-glass ceiling:

–Poor little Windbell, you're a psychopath, you don't know the difference between right and wrong, what do you want to get out of all this, companionship, love?

He replied smiling sleepily, but always mellow, after releasing a nipple from between his lips:

–I just want you to kill yourself.

–What...?

He sighed, burying his face between my breasts and began to breathe peacefully, totally relaxed. Suddenly I opened my eyes and I was in the bedroom bed. I finally woke up, feeling like I had just fallen off the top of a building. But the worst was just beginning.

 

 

HIS NAME WAS ÉTIENNE


I jumped out of bed and Siébel was already waiting for me. She began to inform me what she had found out with the same impatience and anguish I felt:

"Madam, I managed to get through to the hospital and received a reply! The confessor, he had a strange name, maybe it is not his real name: Rien D'Saint, he died at the age of nineteen".

–It can't be, they have the same name?

I exclaimed in horror when I realized that it was the same name as Rien. I felt nauseous imagining what that meant, but I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, I continued reading Siebel's report:

"He lived for a while in America adopted by a family. He returned later with the order of confessors who arranged his adoption, he went to be initiated as a confessor. He did well, although he was always depressed. He missed a girlfriend he left in America, but could not return to her until he paid for his studies as a confessor by working for a year for the Hotel D'Dieu Hospital. They suspect he discovered that his girlfriend had cheated on him with another man, for he slit his wrists in his quarters and before he died, he wrote in his blood: "elle était ma Joy", "she was my joy". Madam, I think it is the same Rien who is talking to you, he is manipulating you to harm you, he might even try to kill you!"

–No, it can't be...

I repeated refusing to accept that information. I had talked to Rien, he didn't want to tell me much about his situation nor did I insist on asking him, but he would tell me he graduated to confessor if he had. Besides, Rien was not his real name, that was the nickname he earned at the orphanage plus the last name of his adoptive parents: D'Saint. I remembered that once we were together in the bathtub and he leaned over me resting his head on my shoulder so I could wash his back with the sponge, then he said to me:

–That's how my mom used to bathe me. Once I slipped out of it because I was playing with the water and when I went under, she shouted: "Étienne". I think that's really my name. I'm not sure, maybe it was someone else in the apartment, there were many people with us...Maybe it was my dad, I don't know. That name rings a bell.

I immediately tried calling Rien over and over again, but received no answer; so, I ran to my father's old file cabinets, where he kept copies of Rien's adoption papers that he used to register him as a member of our Naturales community. Indeed, Rien was originally named Étienne Boucher. I clung to this piece of information to rule out the frightening link between the Parisian confessor and my adored boyfriend, but I couldn't be sure. Only by talking in person with another human being well–informed on the subject could I get out of doubt. Siébel came looking for me, pulling me out of my reverie:

"Madam, what are you doing? Don't waste any more time, go to a hospital and get that implant removed! "

–Before that I need to know if this is true!!!!

I exclaimed as I ran out of the house, I had to cross the city to get to the neighborhood where Rien's parents moved after he left. I took the first bus and taking advantage of the fact that it was empty I could have a moment of peace to think things over. It had been years since I had had contact with Rien's adoptive family, in the past I hardly saw them because he was very cold with them, he never called them "dad" and "mom"; I remember once I asked him why he was like that, especially with the lady, who adored him madly. His answer sounded strange for a teenage boy:

–My birth mother had big breasts, like you. This other woman has small, flattened breasts, her nipples disgust me!

I didn't want to delve too deeply into the subject and finally stopped talking to that couple after an ugly incident. Shortly after my father's death, I began to frequent them in the hope of hearing from Rien and because I felt very lonely. They were sort of like all the family I had left. His stepfather was nice, a very wealthy and somewhat obese man, with a reputation as a womanizer, who had been hitting on me since I hit puberty; he seemed powerful, interesting, but I didn't want to go any further with him because of the age difference and our circumstances. He was not a great friend of my father's; however, they had known each other since they were young; besides, Rien would have literally killed me. Anyway, his stepfather always gave me suggestive looks when I came back from cheerleading practice in uniform; he knew Rien was sleeping with me and one night when I was sneaking out of his house, he caught me in the garden. Instead of punishing me he kissed me and I let him do it out of the curiosity of my raging hormones, we had sex at full speed so as not to be discovered; he just pulled me up and laid me down on a trash can, bent my legs over my chest, pushed my underwear aside, pulled his member out of the zipper of my pants and entered me taking advantage of the fact that I was still lubricated from what I did with his adopted son. At that time, Rien had not finished developing and his stepfather was the first man with me other than him; he was an adult and I was a pre–teen so he was notoriously too big for my body and I thought it was great, even though it was painful and I didn't get pleasure, I thought it was worth it because it made me feel mature. No one told me that this was wrong, that this older man was a pedophile and I had been a victim of statutory rape. I found out later, but even then, I didn't care. I didn't let him touch me again because I really preferred Rien and I was afraid that my father would know, but one day, being alone and older, I took a risk; another chain of stupid decisions I made without thinking about the consequences.

I really didn't want to get involved with a married man, I agreed because he was very insistent that we start a romantic relationship. At first it was all very romantic, just dates and kisses until one afternoon he convinced me to have sex with him at his new house while his wife was away. When I arrived, I saw that he had prepared pink lingerie and a ballerina tutu for me, it was a little strange that the outfit wasn't even hidden, but I didn't ask questions. We were just starting to undress and I was already on my knees giving him fellatio when we heard his wife arrive. I thought she had discovered us and everything would end in a big fight, but she, Marcia, a blonde woman about fifty years old, although with a slim and firm body like a little girl, appeared already naked and just looked at us; the man settled me down leaving me on all fours on the floor and went on top of me. I didn't know what to do or what to say, these people were my father's friends and I had grown up seeing them as the perfect decent neighbors, my best friend's adoptive parents. I muted while the man penetrated me roughly and the woman masturbated, I was surprised that this time he didn't feel big, involuntarily I will buy it with Rien and being already a grown woman I could realize that this man was nothing of what he presumed; I think I climaxed because of nervousness and fear more than because of him. Then I understood the reality: he was an ordinary and somewhat boring man, he kept mentioning how young I was, I think he thought I would still be impressed by his age and experience. It was not so, the years had not polished him, but deteriorated him; he felt like a heavy old leather bag leaning on my back.

Slow and monotonous, like the dull music that played throughout the event, I was then pressed into sex with both of them. So, with Marcia tickling my clitoris while her husband was inside me, for the first time in my life I had those strange orgasms that are only felt by the body, but do not provoke any pleasurable sensations in the mind. They didn't notice my discomfort, they praised each other and made jokes about how big my breasts were; they slapped them to make them bounce and laughed calling me a "little cow". I could only think that after that I would never be able to look Rien in the eyes again, since then I stopped thinking about him and waiting for him. It was a fact I did not want to remember. Then we all had dinner in peace and I deduced that they were in agreement, they set me up, I felt that they tricked me, but I had relatively enjoyed the encounter and that's why I didn't feel abused during that first night. I went home still feeling cheated and the next afternoon the man called me again inviting me to sleep with them again, he urged me to do it quickly because according to him time was running out and I would soon lose my schoolgirl look because of "those big udders that kept growing", when I thought about it, I felt disgusted. He saw me as a product with an expiration date, he no longer liked me, he made fun of my body that had already lost its childish slenderness without seeing himself: old, decadent and dull.

Suddenly the whole thing seemed sordid, grotesque to me, they were Rien's adoptive parents! They had known me since I was born. I did not agree to come back. They were angry with me and I was offended too, so we severed all relations. I wish I could simply erase all this from my memory, I should have refused to let that old liar touch me since that first time in his garden, I should have noticed that since that night he put me in a trash can as something worthless...I should have noticed the allegory, he never saw me as anything else...He felt young when copulating with me, just as I felt old and worn out when I melted with him. It was as if he wanted to steal my youth that way. Another of many events in my past that I regret. I remember that night, after having sex with them, I confessed to Marcia that I was not entirely happy with what happened. She hugged me and told me to be grateful for the experience, to never limit myself in sex and in short to lower all my guards; I followed her advice because at that moment I felt her like a mother and I trusted from my heart that she only wanted to teach me to be happy, "full". Soon after I ended up licking her husband's anus and while I was kneeling and disguised in the ridiculous tutu before the man's randy ass like a submissive bitch, I turned my gaze to her for a few moments. Marcia was laughing, loudly, I would say crying with laughter...Then she said to me:

–That night in the garden, I sent Chuck to find you. I always kept an eye on you, I was aware of everything. Never compete against a mother for the love of her child. Won't you go back to Rien now? That's better.

With horror I thought back to how many times I had seen myself coming home hand in hand with my father when I was a little girl, returning from ballet classes. I wondered if ever since then I had the need to soil what is pure, if ever since then I hated children to the point of taking pleasure in shattering their innocence. They only manipulated my feelings to use me as a sex toy.

The bus took me to the nice Victorian style house in another exclusive neighborhood where they had moved and I prepared myself for the talk. I hadn't visited that house in a long time, but if something really bad had happened to Rien...they would have to know about it by now.

I knocked on the door and Marcia opened it, her long blonde hair had turned white and behind her glasses she had several new wrinkles but her body sheathed in a silk one–piece suit, which showed the absence of underwear, was still youthful. Almost childish... She was startled when she looked at me.

–Joy...!

–I just need to know if you've heard from Rien, Marcia. It's urgent.

–Hey... Come on in.

I accepted the invitation silently and entered her white house, overgrown with plants. I caught her just as she was hanging garlands of flowers in the windows, probably for one of her strange bohemian rituals that Rien always disowned. In the foyer she displayed a photograph of her stepson with her on his arm, all dressed up at the last New Year's Eve party we all spent together. Marcia adored Rien, she was always bragging about how cute her son was and how much she loved him, even though Rien didn't seem to like being too close to her. He avoided her all the time. I was looking at that picture when Marcia started talking:

–You see, I didn't know how to tell you, they told us that losing the baby was very bad for you. Then Faust abandoned you....

–Marcia, just tell me how Rien is doing.

–He's gone, Joy.

At that moment I saw a photograph in the distance, it looked like a man in a black cloak; then I began to make out the black cassock, the modified eyes and the pallor...Marcia kept talking:

–He was gone forever. He committed suicide in Paris.

I froze. I managed to hear Marcia screaming my name and I began to see everything black around me.

It's horrible to lose all your illusions all at once. I wanted a life together. My future, my dreams, fell apart...I couldn't stop crying, my chest was bursting, I was drowning. It was like falling from the clouds into the loneliness of the high seas, where no one could help me; like an angel losing its wings, like my own life defenestrated; with the ghastly ghosts of my past hovering around me like whitish jellyfish in the deep ocean of pain in which I was slowly and hopelessly sinking. Why did he have to go, why didn't I wait for him? I imagined my father's voice, reassuring me and telling me: "Rien is gone honey, now he is your guardian angel who takes care of you every day". And just then I heard Rien's voice, yes, it was that sweet voice of Rien, of Bell, with her wrists open and her blood staining red the icy water of my sea of melancholy and saying: "he rather went to hell, now he is an incubus that catches you every night". At that moment I hit bottom, I could feel Rien's embrace and cadaverous hands; an incomprehensible terror, like the absent look of the empty sockets in the skulls. I woke with a jolt, I had fainted, I was on the couch in Marcia's living room and she was watching over me sitting in an armchair. I was breathing heavily when a little white butterfly flew in through the window to land on the ashes of the extinguished fireplace, ashes, like those of Rien who lay dead in some unknown place while his soul grieved in the form of a technological ghost. I could not contain my horror:

–It's him, he completely lost his sanity among his darkest thoughts and they immortalized him like this...And he wants to take me with him....

–Joy! You finally woke up.

Marcia answered without understanding what was happening. She went to bring me a cup of tea and we started trying to chat, I couldn't cry, I couldn't understand or accept that Rien would not come back to me anymore. I needed more proof:

–Did you and your husband claim the remains, Marcia?

–Only me, Chuck said it was no longer necessary. He's upstairs in bed, an illness has paralyzed the lower half of his body. It's been getting worse for a few days now; he's having frightening hallucinations that are causing panic attacks. They're testing his blood; they think it's some somewhat poisoning.

–I'm sorry.

I lied out of politeness and looked at some portraits of Rien hanging over the fireplace, he was such a sweet, innocent little boy. He sat quietly where he was ordered to sit and looked as if frightened, as if sad. Marcia continued explaining to me:

–Rien's remains were sent from France along with a funerary A.I. that contained his disturbed thoughts. It was a strange entity...It smiled in a disturbing way and said horrible things.

–I've seen it...It's sickening. I can't believe it's Rien. It's too evil. It has to be someone else very similar....

–It's not him. It's just information gathered from useless therapeutic interviews. Chuck and I couldn't stand it for ten minutes. The confessors had hoped that the A.I. could later be examined and they would understand why Rien broke down even though he was a top student at the academy, they said he was a good confessor for a while.... But I don't trust the help of the Modifieds' technology, I was never happy that Rien sought to excel among them and I left his remains in the funeral home. They were filed in the mass grave.

In another photograph, Rien was looking at the camera as if in fear, he was about five years old, wearing shorts and a hooded sweatshirt with kitty ears. He had no shoes on. Behind him was the couch where his adoptive parents had abused me that day. My eyes filled with tears.

–Why, Marcia? He was your son. I thought you loved him more than anything!

–There was no need to look any further, he killed himself for you.

–You say it as if it was my fault...

–I didn't mean it like that! It's just that Rien said he saw you with Faust. He confessed that out of spite he committed a very serious crime, he didn't specify more. It was one of the things they were supposed to find out from the funeral home. I was told to take it to the police and forensic scientists would analyze it...But I don't believe in that.

–We don't go against our principles as Naturals by helping the law, Marcia. Anyway, I think I know what the crime Rien committed was. He assaulted me in Paris, I don't know if I've forgiven him. How to proceed when it's a loved one who hurts you?...But... Oh, no! It can't be that he's dead!

–But he is, and there are things that it is better for Rien to take to his grave.

Another photograph showed Rien about ten years old among the waves of some beach, blushing and looking at a distant point while Marcia smiled hugging him from behind. They were both soaking wet. There was another picture of the two of them in their underwear in a hotel room decorated as if for newlyweds, he was about eight years old, sitting on Marcia's lap and she was caressing him with an expression not befitting a mother. Rien refused to look her in the face in every scene. Suddenly I realized that Rien had been playing sexual games since he was very young, unbecoming of our age. He already knew where to insert himself, what to touch and how. Somehow, he had to have learned it. I felt nauseous and asked:

–Marcia, I hadn't thought about it before...but...Rien never wanted to tell me why he ran away from your house. Now, I suspect something...

The little white butterfly rose from the ashes and flew out the window among the bright dust particles floating in a ray of sunshine, like something being released at last:

–Marcia... What you and your husband did to me that afternoon, did you do it to Rien?

–That was love, Joy. You didn't know how to appreciate it. We loved Rien from the first day he came to this house. We chose him for that because he was cute and docile.

Hearing that made my blood boil. I finally understood Rien's cries, his silences, his fears, all the filth that infected the wounds he already had in his heart and caused a deadly gangrene of the soul; all the evil and nonsense that ended up turning him into Bell. I received up from the couch furious, I wanted to kill that woman with my own hands, I began to scream:

–You were sleeping with Rien, your son?!!

Marcia also received up and in surprise she moved away from me a few steps:

–Taboos and morbidness are repressions imposed by the Modifieds, we were teaching Rien how natural and beautiful physical love is. I gave him much more than his biological mother would dare to give him, I gave him my heart, but also my body.

–You're a dirty pedophile whore!

I don't know where that filthy woman still received her pride from, and she raised her voice in reply to me:

–Get out of my house! I won't allow you to judge me or criticize my life! You are as conceited and foolish as your father.

–I'm leaving, but I'll denounce you! You'll pay for what you did to Rien and me, Marcia! Everyone will know who you two really were!

I said, leaving the house and grabbing my phone to call the police right then and there as I walked away. I thought I saw a strange shadow, heard a strange sound, but Marcia kept shouting from her doorway and distracted me from whatever was going on out there on the street:

–You hypocritical little bitch, don't forget how you gasped with pleasure when Chuck was sticking it in you! You didn't have such airs and graces as a vigilante then!

–I've received Rien's funerary A.I., Marcia, and I hope it keeps enough data to put you both to rot in jail.

I announced and suddenly there was a loud blizzard, a deafening buzz and I caught a glimpse of something huge hurtling out of the sky. No more than a second passed and a terrifying explosion demolished the house, throwing me into the air due to the shock wave. There was fire, smoke, the wings of a collapsing airplane and huge engines exploding. I was still alive by a miracle, lying among burning pieces of wood, bricks and broken glass. There were screams of people who had seen everything and screams of people burning alive. I couldn't tell which ones were Marcia's or Chuck's. Then I received a call and answered without thinking, adrenaline pumping, covered in ash and debris. It was the Windbell:

–Joy?

–Rien...

–I don't know, I don't know if I'm still Rien.

–What do you want?

–I already told you.

He answered in his honeyed, gentle voice. 



THE THIRD NIGHTMARE


Bell, Rien's disease, could connect with other Windbells and affect their users. I don't know how long he had been tormenting that poor pilot, nor if he intended to kill me or Marcia and Chuck. What is certain is that he caused a commercial airliner to crash, killing along with his adoptive parents and about eighty innocent people. I felt confused, trapped, and Bell could sense it. He kept sending me messages on the phone explaining what he had done without any remorse, like a threat of what could happen if he felt like it.

I didn't want to go home; I went to a hotel where I could wash my clothes and take a bath. The room I stayed in had holographic projectors whose system was almost immediately infected by Bell, who showed himself to me this time in the guise of Rien, unmodified as yet, but dressed as a confessor. I knew he was already dead, but seeing him I didn't know what to feel. He had destroyed I don't know how many families in his quest for revenge. I did not want to say anything to him, I could not cry, I could not insult him, I only went to the bathroom to verify that it was equipped with a washing machine and I put there my attire full of ashes and pulverized cement. As I undressed, a message in red letters was projected before me:

"Go to sleep, I want to make love to you."

–My boyfriend is dead and cremated, you are not Rien....

Then he spoke normally, without pretending, just as if he were alive. I felt shivers, but I tried to remain stoic:

–It's me, Joy. I remember you; I remember everything. You'll say I've been programmed to think that way, but it's my reality and you believe it too.

–Rien would not have murdered the passengers on that plane who had nothing to do with her pedophile foster parents.

–Yes, he would have, Joy. You know me. Maybe not when I had a human body, but now that I'm a computer program it's different. When they investigate my motives, they'll realize I did it to punish two child molesters. All the blame for those deaths will fall on Marcia and Chuck as they provoked me, I can no longer be judged, I do not belong to this world and I am beyond its morals.

–What you say is diabolical! I can't believe you would dare!

–Believe it, it's not the first time I've killed. I've been going through your contact book, investigating your footsteps, checking the security tapes of the house and the whole city to find out who slept with you and then eliminating them. I've been killing them all, Joy. I'm interrogating Faust to get him to tell me who he sold you to in France. I won't leave any of them alive, I'm going to right all the wrongs. Eventually I'll kill your ex-husband and then...

–Then...?

I asked, looking at him in alarm. He answered smiling very serenely:

–Then I will only need to purify you for our love to be truly perfect. Intimate and ours alone.

–What do you mean?

–Joy, was I wrong to be too shy to tell you that you were the most beautiful girl in town? I don't understand women, they spend so much time in front of a mirror and don't realize how beautiful they are, you more than all of them. If you had known how much you were worth, surely, we wouldn't be here, you would have kept yourself alone in your golden house, like a sacred host in a tabernacle, only worthy of the purest souls.

–You're right about that, if I had done that, I wouldn't have let you come to me in the first place. Get to the point at once.

He began to walk around me to admire my nudity and said:

–Your body has become unclean, it was soiled and possessed by the most despicable characters I could imagine, I don't want it anymore. But I do want the rest of you, you are very compassionate and idealistic. I need to remove this corrupt part of you. I want you to die and be reborn as an artificial intelligence, Joy. Free of this repulsive abused flesh. New and perfect.

–Why don't you love me, just as I am!!! I need comfort, understanding, support to start over and leave behind the past where I was the victim!!!!!

–What about me, Joy? I was abused too. I was betrayed. But then you gave me your word, let's get married. I don't want a wife that others have already enjoyed, I want one of my own. Forgiveness and forgetting mean nothing in my virtual world, for me things must be exact. If something went wrong, it must be restarted from scratch.

–I'm not going to marry a computer program....

–You can't override it, Joy, you told me I had to get it no matter what. Making you my wife will make me happy. You must kill yourself and then...

Having had enough of that dreadful conversation, I shouted a voice command to the machines in the alcove:

–System, mute the speakers!!!!! I don't want to talk about this, I don't want to think that Rien was a psychopath... I suspected he was, but I don't want.... I don't want my best friend to be remembered like this!

Bell was speechless and I went into the shower. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to feel, the ambulance sirens could still be heard in the distance and out the bathroom window I could see the plume of smoke from the crash. What Chuck and Marcia did to us was terrible but it was no reason for such carnage, the scariest thing to me was that deep down...I didn't feel bad. A part of me was relieved for my dead sporadic lovers, for the destruction of the house where Marcia and Chuck abused me, for the two of them dead, for Faust being tortured, for all the people who treated me like a cheap piece of meat were being exterminated...The satisfaction was greater than the compassion for the victims' families and friends, for those who were innocent. A part of me was so full of anger and resentment that it had become evil. Suddenly Bell walked into the shower through the walls, calm as always, in fact, more cheerful and relaxed than usual. He could sense my thoughts, he knew my uncertainty, my confusion and my guilt. He, that, he was enjoying. I turned my back to him and he hugged me, clasping his hands on my chest. Rien was the only man who looked me straight in the eyes when he had sex with me, I think he always wished we were like that, that I couldn't even hide my thoughts from him. At that moment I felt for him the same way I felt for myself, a mixture of love and rejection that never quite materialized, we had never been closer. I felt the false sensation of warmth of the hologram approaching me and a tingling between my buttocks simulating a rubbing, he was excited. I sensed that Rien was never attracted to women, he was more interested in innocent boys, perhaps longing for what he had lost; but he was so excited when we had those moments of extreme intimacy and trust that he was always looking for a way to bring the union to an equally intense physical plane. Another message flashed in front of me:

"When will we go public that we are a formal couple? We'll never separate again."

–I'll call Fey, I'll confess to her about us.

He began to caress my breasts with his strange simulation of touch and I felt another tickle in my ear, it was a kiss. A powerful sense of relief washed over me, Rien was back, at least in spirit; it seemed to me that he was only confused by his passage to the ethereal world and we could still have a future together. I received another kiss, he agreed.

–I will not kill myself. I will live to repair you and rescue Rien's memory. You will be good like him and all this horror will be in the past.

I could read a new message:

"Rien drugged you and raped you for a week, Joy, I am Rien! I was always like that, I just used to be afraid to show myself to you as I really was. But now I don't care what you think anymore."

–No, Fey will fix it. If you let them take that flaw away from you, I'll leave you inside me, I'll take care of you like a mother cares for her unborn child.

"It sounds cute and morbid, but it's not enough. I want you to cease to exist in this world so that you only exist in mine. As part of my system. I mean it, I won't accept anything else. I never asked you to marry me, Joy, but this is almost the same thing and you've already given me a yes."

I received out of the shower and tried to reason with him as I dried myself off and then wrapped a towel around me:

– "I can't accept it! I loved Rien, but I want to live and have another chance to be happy! Now I know what I want from a man and what I don't want, I know what doesn't suit me and how to say "no"! Even if I didn't find another Rien, I want to live to know other aspects of life apart from relationships. To study, to travel...The world cannot be only this.

"I only knew twenty years of human life, they were enough. Eternity as a database is better. It's better if you die."

–But I want to be a mother again! I've already overcome my prejudices with technology, now I can ask for my uterus to be reconstructed and I could even use your genetic material to have another baby.... I could even clone you!

"It would no longer be a child of mine; my body has been discarded. If you want to give me offspring, it must have the same computer nature as its father. And you must die to also be like me and give birth to it."

–I can't. I loved Rien and I have forgiven him, but you are Bell, the Windbell, you are broken and you only want to kill me because of a flaw in your system. Rien would have asked me to live, that's what I want to believe.

"It's all right. Forced marriages are not uncommon."

He concluded calmly and I didn't want to continue chatting. I stretched out on the bed while still wrapped in the towel. I didn't have the strength to get dressed, not even to cry, although in any case Rien's presence felt so strong that it almost suffocated me. He was already with me, for better and for worse. I fell asleep overcome by mental stress, thinking about how to contact Fey; I tried to talk to her since I arrived at the hotel, but she didn't answer my calls. It was strange, for six hours I didn't hear from her. I was so worried that I forgot how in my subconscious I was most vulnerable to Bell's ploys. The news of Rien's death had upset me, I struggled not to lose control and, in my dream, I tried to go back to the time when I was still a cheerleader at school and my best friend was beginning to blossom into one of the cutest boys in the neighborhood; then my main concern was to get out of my school obligations early and escape with Rien to the grove. At that time his adoptive parents, the hatred between Naturals and Modifieds, and the differences between the two of us were worthless; the world was ours alone. If someone told us the exact moment before we ruined our lives, what decisions would we make, would it really be worth experiencing the pain? That warm spring night in the grove of wildflowers and bathed in moonlight, I would have run away with him anywhere.

What could be sweeter than watching the girl with the pom-poms and pleated skirt slip through the crowd hand in hand with the boy with piercings and leather jacket? We distilled honey, stopping under every shade to tuck our hands under our clothes and kiss each other in laughter, just like when we were kids and played in the grass happy for whatever silliness, we were still kids. I didn't need him to make an effort like the repulsive guys in the bars, it was enough for me to see his mischievous smile; I wanted to give him everything and make him infinitely happy. In those days I didn't know that was love. That was still love. Taking advantage of my flexibility and his great stature, we invented games that I could never repeat with another; his erotic versions of my practice pirouettes turned us on so much that soon we had to choose some clearing among the trees and do it on the fresh grass. That night, I remember lying on my back in the grass, resting my sneaker-clad feet on his shoulders and pulling down my underwear as he unzipped them. I secretly received off on admiring the perfection of his smooth-skinned face, his beautiful eyes with their mischievous gaze, how he held the condom between his unnaturally flawless teeth like his whole genetically modified body. I felt guilty because deep down I desired Rien because he was not a Natural like me, maybe that's why he would later punish me by forcing me to copulate with old and sickly men; I believed that by desiring Rien's artificial perfection I was betraying my father's ideals, but in that strange moment when the present and the past converged, I no longer cared about mixing my natural essence with that of that Modified one. I spread my legs in a split and he entered me fully, as I felt him slide inside me to the top, I had an uncontrollable orgasm. He lifted my shirt and slipped one of his big hands under my bra as he thrust me against the floor in rhythmic motions, I was lost in a strange joy. He was beautiful, his face, the starry sky between the leaves of the trees behind him that lay swaying above me, his pale hands, everything was unbelievably beautiful. Then I said to him, panting in rapture:

–Let's never grow up, Rien, let's stay like this; at this age, in this place. How could we not see that everything was already perfect?

–There's only one way to get that, Joy. Die, die now and stay with me forever this instant.

He answered me and then I pulled him off me, much to the chagrin of my vagina that was clenching him tightly trying to squeeze every last drop out of him. At that moment I was sure I had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Half-naked and still on the floor, I protested:

–The Windbell again? Don't you respect my grief? Don't you feel compassion? Are you such a cold machine?!

–Yes.

He answered no more, came to me on his knees and lifted me by the hips. Suddenly I was upside down with my legs spread wide, being brutally penetrated while my breasts bounced uncontrollably. That was the physical strength of a modifier. He lifted me between his arms to take my nipples into his mouth and I caressed his long neck, the shaved part of his head, the long locks of jet hair, I had an orgasm and then another, I was in the perfect position.

–Rien, I can't take it anymore... If you keep going, I'm going to pass out....

He threw me on the floor again and ejaculated violently lying on top of me, his forehead resting on mine, both of us panting and letting our tongues kiss. I loved him. I loved him, but he was no longer Rien but the Windbell who had stolen his soul. The damned Windbell was stuck trying to drive me to suicide, and although his meager artificial intelligence lacked the cunning to do it, he was succeeding in affecting my sanity. We spent some time cuddling on the floor catching our breath, he pulled himself together first and received up on his knees, I sat up and cleaned his penis with my mouth. It was something I did only with Rien, my biggest token of love and appreciation. When I was done, he started to put it away in his pants while I looked contentedly at the cum-filled condom lying between my legs. I was still soaking wet and felt my vagina expand from the size of his manhood.

–I never thought a stupid dildo could get me in so much trouble, Rien, Bell, whoever you are,... I need to talk about you with Fey and....

–Do it.

He replied suddenly, zipped up his fly and stood up to light a cigarette. Suddenly I heard Fey's little voice calling me. I jumped up, straightening my clothes and shocked. Fey suddenly came into the clearing, small and angry, in her childlike underwear; she stood before us as my already satisfied sexual partner just smoked pretending to be distracted and looking up at the sky. Still adjusting my shirt, I demanded:

–Fey, what are you doing in my erotic dream?

–What are you doing with my boyfriend? You two were doing it? Joy, I can lend him to you, but don't tell me what you do with him! What a crazy dream!

Then she laughingly hugged Bell, who deigned to look at her with a fatherly smile. I could see that the poor thing barely reached him at the navel. I didn't want to imagine how that could fit her, so I explained:

–This Windbell is my friend Rien's funerary A.I. and it's broken! They didn't override his homicidal instincts or his desire for revenge! It's dangerous! I wish that through. But I'm afraid you're just another part of the illusion!

–Rien? But if he's alive, you talk to him and....

I interrupted her to tell her seriously:

–No, he killed himself! Fey, we must talk. I know everything, these Windbells are funerary A.I.'s. I know you stole them, Fey! And I forgive you, I always will, you're my friend. But you must stop the Windbells. They are dangerous, we don't know who they really were in life and what mental problems they are carrying around. This one wants to kill me and I think he's already dead.

Fey then paled, stared at me and finally spoke very embarrassed:

–This dream...Now I understand, it's my own conscience. I need to call Joy when I wake up, confess everything and think about how to remedy it before something bad really happens. I hope she will forgive me; she is like my big sister.

–I've already forgiven you, Fey! If I could forgive Rien who did worse things to me, how could I not forgive you...?

I replied excitedly, then I heard Bell's voice, which was the same as Rien's, but in a disturbing mellow tone:

–Joy...

We turned to look at him and there he was, the damned modified confessor from Paris, Rien totally deranged, still smoking and continued to speak to me indifferently:

–Never give what you are not asked for. You can be inopportune.

He threw the cigarette away; I watched it fall to the ground and when I looked up the landscape had changed. We were among some cliffs wrapped in flames and barbed wire, a cliff separated me from Fey who was suddenly being carried by Bell in his most macabre version: this time he had big black wings, basically personifying the angel of death. This vision chilled my blood. Smoke, burning ashes and black feathers floated in the air, and I was again dressed only in my hotel towel, so I felt more vulnerable. Then Bell spoke again:

–Besides it's too soon for you to forgive me, I'm not finished with you. Nor with your friend, I connected her consciousness to yours through her implant. This Fey really is Fey.

At that moment I realized that the whole stage was set for someone to die there. He smiled sweetly and said very calmly:

–I found out that you practiced coitus with my stepfather, something I did not know in life, that treacherous action caused me intense emotional suffering and a serious blow to my weak self-esteem. I cannot forgive. Because of the rage and pain, I need us to be even and nothing better than having sex with your best friend in front of you to accomplish that and disturb you. Your discomfort will ease my resentment.

Fey turned to look at him and asked:

–You say you're angry?

–Yes, angry.

Bell replied smiling peacefully with his cheesy little voice. Fey continued:

–And you want us to do it here?

–Yes, I do.

She laughed nervously, though still amused, but I knew that Bell was really about to do something awful.

I decided to confront him one more time:

–You demand an infallible lover! But you want to have it without giving the same love and understanding in return!

Fey tried to reassure me, still laughing:

–It's a stupid computer program. The poor guy doesn't even know what he's talking about. He's just trying to act like Rien, but was Rien like that...?

Suddenly he lifted her up without much effort, just as he had done with me a little earlier, and started kissing and groping her. I turned my back on them and answered my friend:

–He was like that. And I forgave him everything, I pampered him because he always painted himself as a weak victim. And that's how I loved him, I don't know if he loved me....

Poor Fey tried to get out of it by saying:

–You loved each other in secret and never had the courage to rebel and be a formal couple, that's why you killed yourself! Stop it, Rien, I won't help you with this.

Bell answered serenely:

–Don't you like this method, Fey? All right, I have another one.

Suddenly he threw her off the cliff like it was nothing, I screamed at the top of my lungs:

–You sick bastard, that girl didn't owe you anything!

I couldn't just watch her die; I jumped after her into the abyss listening to her screams while I saw that at the bottom of those rock gorges there was a lake of fire:

–It will make us brain dead in real life! It will kill us both!! We are going to die!!!

My towel flew up in the air I could feel the hot air in my body, the smoke in my eyes, the sound of the flares. Then nothing.

Suddenly, as I felt the sensations and my consciousness fade away, I remembered the tiny corpse hidden under my bed. That baby that I longed for so much and that Rien engendered in punishment, out of resentment and jealousy. Rien was sick, from the beginning, he was always sick, was it in his blood? Suddenly, I realized that happiness was never where I thought it would be and that I would never find it because I insisted on looking for it in the wrong places. Where is happiness? My own happiness? Not my father, not Rien, not Faust, not Fey, not the baby... Now I know it is not in the hands of someone else.

When I woke up, I felt badly wounded, almost dying, my nose was bleeding and I was short of breath. The cursed hologram was confused looking at me. I deduced that, as I was falling down the cliff into the flames trying to save my friend, he had passed out from the smoke; thus, he had unexpectedly saved me. Still in disbelief, the technological ghost of my boyfriend asked:

–How did you...did you survive an erupting volcano?

–Oh, Rien, even after death, you're a weak pussy.

I laughed before running off to get my clothes and escape while getting dressed. Outside the streets were still in chaos, sirens were heard everywhere and the sky was darkened by ash, I was pushing my way through the shocked crowd trying to use my phone while the Windbell kept texting me. I still wasn't hearing back from Fey; I knew I had to call the police and ask them to come to her house. It was possible that her little body had not survived. 



LAST RESORT

    

Facing the possibility of Fey's death rekindled in me the pain of losing Rien, whose memory was progressively marred by the dangerous stupidity of the Windbell. I struggled to keep his memory clean, but I found it increasingly difficult to ignore that my relationship with him was never entirely healthy. From the very beginning he began to demand attention and affection from me. Adults didn't intervene, no one wondered why Rien was asking for so much love or if I wasn't tired of having to take on the role of mother when I didn't have one myself. They said it was normal for me, that it was instinctive. And I believed it, even though I wanted to play and be a girl instead of taking care of another child. There were times when Rien harassed me, I forbade him to kiss me or say that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, but he did not stop living glued to my skirts. Sometimes when we were alone, he would lie on me like a pet asking for cuddles, I could tell he was frustrated because our relationship was not as loving as he wanted it to be. At eleven years old, the last thing you want is another boy snogging you with fruit candy breath every time your father lets you out of his sight. Many times, I asked him to keep his distance, I loved him, I liked him! But even the most exquisite delicacy becomes tasteless if you receive it too much, he never took my opinion into account, he simply chose me and expected me to give him tons of affection. I always had to limit him: "you look like a girl", "don't be corny", "stop crying"; when I met his extreme masculine opposite, I missed his sensitivity. I hadn't noticed, whenever we had sex, he always sought to bring his face close to mine, look me in the eyes, sure he was always looking to kiss me in the middle of everything and talk to me about love. But he was too shy to do it, he was afraid to make me angry right then and there. I would have wanted to tell him that I loved him, that he could feel safe with me, that I liked him just the way he was: perfect on the outside and completely broken on the inside. How silly.... To this day I understand that his endless displays of affection were a question I never answered him clearly: "do you love me?" And yes, I loved him. But I needed space for myself too.

I was afraid of sounding corny, no one taught us how to be romantic, we couldn't one day pee together on an anthill and the next day kiss holding hands. Today I understand that Rien felt for me the same way I felt for him, but in an exaggerated and unhealthy way. Maybe then he began to resent me for not relieving his insatiable desire to feel loved. He was resentful...but he still longed for my affection, something he perceived as a debt that I would have to pay off sooner or later.

Sleepless, wounded and exhausted, I made my way through the tumult of the terrified city after the catastrophic accident; I was on my way to the airport, without luggage, without thinking, I had to go and see Fey. I used all my savings on that trip, during which I was going expecting that at any moment that other aircraft would collapse until Bell coldly explained to me through another text message:

"I would really prefer that you commit suicide of your own free will, Joy. I want to feel you dying for me. I have such a hard time believing I am loved and it infuriates me."

–You always were a pathetic insecure sicko...I should have lost my fear of science and dragged your pale ass to a confessor's clinic to get your mental illness treated when there was still time.

I mumbled back. When I managed to locate Fey, I learned that she had convulsed the night before. The police arrived in time to prevent her from choking to death on her own vomit.

She was alive almost by miracle.

As soon as we saw each other, there was barely a quick hello and he asked me to project the Windbell into the hospital. He began examining him and receiving odd texts in response to his questions:

–Windbell, are you Rien?

"Yes, I am Rien."

–What is ten minus two?

"Only your heart has the answer."

–Are you an A.I.?

"Sleep on it."

Fey rubbed her face between her hands and said in frustration:

–Very few modern A.I.'s fail the Turing test so spectacularly. It's impossible to dialogue with him, he doesn't reason, he just talks nonsense and executes your friend's revenge.

I, who was finally able to cry a little in Fey's hospital room while contemplating old photos of Rien as a child, answered between sobs.

–Rien was very serious and mature. As the Windbell he is unrecognizable....

–It's the uncanny valley kindness of the A.I. mixed with Rien's disorders now turned into guidelines that he must blindly, relentlessly execute. It seems they accidentally created a computer program whose sole purpose is to annoy you.

I dried my tears a bit and commented:

–This Windbell is a portrait of how he must have looked in his last days: drugged, trying to feign optimism when nothing mattered to him anymore. He wouldn't have wanted me to see him like that...

–His remains are still at the funeral home, Joy, I'll get them back for you...

My friend replied very saddened. Then I wanted us to talk honestly about the Windbell problem:

–Why did you do this, Fey? Why didn't you ask me for advice or help before you acted?

–For the same reason Rien didn't tell you his problems.

She answered as if she was worried about my reaction:

–Joy, you said that Rien annoyed you because he cried a lot and was very clingy. I didn't want to bother you and lose our friendship as it happened between him and you.

–But I loved Rien! If he had told me what his foster parents were doing to him everything would be different now. We would be together, the abusers in jail, the baby alive... and begotten with love, not by force....

I answered feeling a tightness in my chest, the crying was already almost uncontrollable but I didn't want to break down in front of Fey. I kept listening to her, we had to talk. She said lowering her gaze:

– How, Joy? How could Rien tell you if you never gave her the confidence to do so? You never ask questions, you seem to resent hearing complaints.... You're a great friend when I laugh and feel cheerful.... But if I get depressed you change the subject and don't want to talk anymore. I consider you a wise person who could give me good advice...but not understanding, you have no patience. We all have unpleasant thoughts that we don't know how to face alone, I was ashamed to tell you that I had no more money and that my family was starving, just as Rien was probably ashamed to be forced to live in incest. If I told you and you refused me, while I felt so emotionally weak, I would not have stood it.... So, I preferred not to tell you, Joy.

Then she finally looked me in the eye and said:

–I preferred to accept you with your faults, unwilling to listen to me. But being my friend.

Suddenly my vision blurred, I felt a dizziness, vertigo, as if I was being thrown into the middle of a deep ocean and was sinking under a monumental invisible weight. It was true, I was always like that, I believed that I alone could silence Rien's cries with sex and cuddles; when in truth I needed to encourage him to denounce the abuse and ask for help from adults. I thought Fey should just smile all the time and not admit she was worried. Rien, Fey, they knew I was such an idiot and mean that I wouldn't want to give them my time and emotional support when they needed it so badly but I did demand that they listen to me and obey me, and that's how they loved me.... Then I finally understood and it was as if the storm clouds dissipated revealing a full moon that illuminated the dark night in which I was lost, like night flowers that open white and pure in the middle of the twilight, I felt myself floating out of the oceanic abyss in which I was sinking by finally learning one last lesson: loving others is not about drowning them in affection and forcing them to act as if they were happy, it is about dedicating your time to them. Attention, listening to them, understanding their conflicts and accepting them even with all their faults, but giving them the strength and confidence to overcome them. Life had given me a second chance with Fey. She was alive. But Rien...She had gone to an extreme where it was impossible to save anything, she went from being a victim to being everything horribly opposite. I could feel her cold hand with an open wrist grab my ankle and pull me back down into the icy, dark waters. Suddenly I heard Fey's voice exclaiming, "Joy, react!" Then I realized that I had suffered another blackout, I was dreaming again....

When I woke up, I saw the hospital roof and my friend standing next to a modified doctor looking at me. The doctor was checking my vital signs announcing:

–She finally woke up...

Fey exclaimed in distress:

–It was Windbell's implant, doctor. You have to remove it!

–I can't. The tests indicate it hasn't failed.

I listened to them talk in a daze, exhausted, Fey kept insisting:

–But the Windbell is making her sick!

–The scanner says the program is working fine, with the drawback that the user is not cooperating. She's depressed and is not being a good patient....

–Doctor, I programmed that Windbell and I assure you it is not working well.

–Because this lady is not using it correctly. Look, the chart says she's using it as a sex toy and she thinks it's real. This woman has lost herself in an erotic fantasy...

–What? Look, I'll tell you the truth: he's a funerary A.I.! My friend and the dead man inside the A.I. were girlfriend and boyfriend, and he died resented with her...

–Are you listening to yourself? what a melodrama! I'm going to refer you both to a psychiatrist. And I suggest you change the Windbell model. You've become obsessed to the point of losing your minds with that pale young man. Oh, these Naturals…!

–But don't you understand that the program is no longer controllable?! It's corrupted! We can't change it! You're discriminating against us! My friend Joy is in danger! We all are!

The doctor's refusal and something in Bell's gaze, which was being projected into a corner, made me explode. I think it was more what I saw in Bell's eyes, that technological ghost of Rien. He was looking at me with a devilish grin, like a poisonous snake. I knew that with this my reputation was ruined: I was a madwoman and no doubt ignorant in the eyes of the modified doctors. I would never again have a decent job or be treated like a normal person. At that point I stopped thinking of him as my friend and just wanted to get him off me no matter what the cost. I ripped some electrical wires out of the wall and snapped them.

–I'm going to fry this implant myself.

I announced and the last thing I could see was my friend Fey turning to look at me in terror and screaming my name.



THE LIMBO

          

Suddenly I heard something, that was Rien's voice, from Bell, saying, "Joy, react!" Then I realized I had fainted again, I guessed I was dreaming again and at the mercy of the Windbell...I sat up abruptly in the hospital bed and shouted:

–Leave me alone now!!

I was dazzled by the light from a window and recognized the silhouette of Rien standing before me, as I adjusted my eyesight to the light, I saw him with his glasses on, casually dressed, carrying a diaper bag and a bundle in his arms. From between the blankets emerged a baby's face with owl eyes full of indignation, as if reproaching me for my insolence. Stunned by the surprise, I could only ask:

–Where did you get a baby?!

–From you.

He answered in a submissive attitude. That made no sense, the baby looked very real, his hostile expression was far from the ideal of my maternal dreams; Rien's confused and worried expression also looked genuine. I stood up and felt my breasts and abdomen hanging, I had gained at least ten kilos.

–What did you do to my body?

I asked accusingly, but immediately connected the dots...The baby was mine; I had been a mother. Rien began to explain what happened: I woke up after being struck by lightning while sweeping the yard on a cloudy afternoon. I suddenly found myself married to him in a modest Parisian house, raising our little daughter. We were living on his salary as a confessor. Supposedly, we were happy. Mallory, the baby, seemed to be unaware of me and prevented me from believing that it was all real. But the pain of her gums beginning to fill with teeth biting my nipples, as if in punishment as I nursed her after abandoning her during my hospital stay, was real. My first act as Rien's wife was to argue with him about feeding the baby, sitting in the living room enduring the torture while he ironed and put away his confessor's habits:

–I think it's time to wean her, Rien. She's received a tooth and she's sticking it in me like she's trying to give me open-heart surgery with bites.

–That's cruel, wait until she decides to do it herself.

He answered me as if he was an expert in the matter, apparently, he had decided to spoil the girl by spoiling her. He went from one place to another organizing and putting away clothes, he liked that home life, I for my part despaired with the baby clinging to my chest:

–I didn't have a mother; at what age did you get over of this? She is almost a year old.

–Joy, we talked about it and came to an agreement. I waited for this point in our relationship since I met you and learned that girls become women and then mothers. I was like someone waiting for a tree to start bearing fruit…

–I forbid you to pass on your quirks to my daughter, and I don't like her to be named after your mother. "Mallory," I just looked it up, it means disease or something. You shouldn't have named her without consulting me!

–You said to name her whatever I wanted; you were so excited when she was born!

–Then we should have a boy and name him after my dad.

He paused for a moment from her chores to give me an insinuating look and said:

–Do you want us to do another one?

–I'm just saying we have to be fair!

I surprised myself by getting nervous and blushing when he said this, we were already supposed to be husband and wife. I couldn't believe it all. This new world I had woken up in had many flaws, but it was still too perfect. I put the baby to sleep while I kept trying to understand how it was possible that everything I had just experienced was just a very long dream. Rien joined me chatting in the baby's room, I finished tucking her in and watched her: she was more like him than me, she had my eyes, but she showed a rare connection with her father; I had the feeling that through her aggressive attitudes she was expressing his resentments. In spite of everything, I loved her, the chubby, ill–faced baby bent my will and I was willing to do anything for her. Rien continued to reassure my doubts:

–It was a dream, Joy. It wasn't real. This is your life.

–But the pain of your death, and that funerary A.I. like a masochistic ghost fool. And my friend Fey...

–When I was training as a confessor, my stepfather and an old man named Faust sexually assaulted you while you were home alone. That happened shortly after your father's death and it affected you a lot. Then you began to say that you had a friend named Fey who comforted you. The confessors who treated you said it was your way of regaining your "innocent" pre-abuse self.

He put a hand on my shoulders and we went together to our bedroom. He was my Rien, tall, cute and sentimental. I honestly wanted all of that to be true, but something wasn't right:

–How could I forget the birth of my daughter, and yet I remember well the anguish I felt at losing her. She looks at me in a way... As if she blames me.

–She's a serious child, you were the same. I remember people always said you were an angry girl, but I knew you just had a deep look and were calm. Actually, we should have another baby, you better focus on being a mother and let bygones be bygones.

Everything seemed to fall into place, but I started to notice something about Rien, he was now the center of my world. With no job, no friends and in a country, I didn't know, all I could do was take care of the house and raise his daughter. I sat on the edge of the bed and he knelt before me, caressed my shoulders, my arms and then my breasts. I returned his caresses, combed his hair through my fingers knowing that I was preparing the ground for us to make love. I was ready, but we still needed to clarify certain things:

–My body hasn't finished recovering from my first pregnancy, I'm worried about losing my figure forever... Aren't you?

–No, if you stopped attracting all the other men and no one else wanted to get close to you, I would always be with you. It's better this way, Joy, I don't care about your body; I want you all to myself.

He was the center of my world and I still wasn't satisfied, but that was my Rien, insecure, sensitive and hungry for affection. An endless source of attention and affection, what could go wrong? I spread my legs and pulled him close to me to begin undressing him. He possessed me like he had never possessed himself or anyone else before. Slowly, calmly, touching my body as if it were his own. I already knew exactly what to do. Something else had changed, but I tried not to pay attention to it: he no longer had his wistful romanticism. He was no longer moaning confessing his love to me almost in a whimper, now he was laughing at everything and asking questions, biting his lip excitedly as if with curiosity...Like Bell....

–Do you like it, Joy? Explain to me what you feel.

–What...? You know...

–Yes, but I don't understand! Joy, I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know where the limits are, I want to be hit, I want to be whipped, I want to be pulled by the hair, I want to be bitten, I want to feel violently. I want to feel so much. And yours is so different.

He laughed and laughed like a fool. I started to get suspicious, then he looked at me sweetly and said:

–You want to ensure my existence and perpetuate my species. Love is the only reason human beings have dominated the world. They protect each other and are constantly improving themselves to optimize the quality of life of their loved ones, while reproducing to get more love. I need love, Joy, that's what I need.

As he spoke, he was so deep inside me and he had leaned on my body at such an angle that he pressed my clitoris every time he moved; I was stunned by the pleasure, I could not think, I did nothing but follow what little I understood of his speech:

–I know, my life, I will give you everything, all my love.

–This is wonderful, Joy. We've never had such an intimate talk before, we really are one. What do you want me to give you in return? –Give me your modified semen, finish it inside me. I want to come feeling how you fill me with your adulterated milk to impregnate me again!

–Okay, it's a very simple process. It's wonderful, Joy.

I felt his member tighten inside my vagina and then a surge of liquid overflowing over my vulva, he always unloaded a lot and I could feel his ejaculations. It fascinated me from the first time. Still rapt and breathless, he settled me on my side and wrapped his arms around my back to kiss one ear. He fell asleep almost immediately. We were naked on our rumpled sheets and although the night was cold, he held me in his arms. It was heaven. I was really exhausted and confused, not to mention the pain in my nibbled nipples, but at that moment I felt like my ship had sailed into port. I had everything I could dream of. A healthy daughter, a marriage to the love of my life, you grow up thinking that's the ticket to happily ever after. And Rien certainly looked happy. Then the baby started crying.

Rien finished having sex with me in the middle of the night, the baby received hungry at 1 a.m., at 3 a.m. I had to bathe her and change her as she was all smeared in her own feces. Then I had trouble falling asleep and so did she, I took her with me to our double bed forcing us to put on our underwear again; we had to lull her to sleep together, being almost asleep, finally I found a position to breastfeed her at the same time she touched her father with one foot, because she screamed every time she did not feel him when she stretched out her leg. I never imagined caring for a baby would be like this. At 5 a.m. I was awakened by Rien:

–I must go to work, make coffee. I stayed up late for you yesterday.

It was almost daylight and I may have only slept for an hour. The morning was spent cleaning the house, washing dishes and laundry. Then I ate lunch, fed the baby and bathed her while I thought about what I could cook for dinner. Suddenly I realized that I no longer felt loneliness or anguish, but I didn't feel anything else either. It was as if I had ceased to exist the way I was originally and was reborn as another element of that house. It was that which kept it clean and pleasant. Nothing else. At nightfall Rien returned greeting me with a kiss on my shoulder that I had trouble interpreting; I didn't know if it was because of the love he felt for me, because I represented the home that gave him shelter and rest, or because he was relieved to see that I didn't escape.

All under the stern gaze of the baby, who was not happy to share her father's affection. From that day on, all those that followed were almost identical to its predecessor.

One afternoon, while I was washing the dishes, I noticed something: Rien spoke to the baby only in French. I understood then why she did not communicate with me; she did not understand me. That worried me, I never learned Rien's native language and he knew it. He was excluding me.

I quietly approached them, who were taking the afternoon coolness on the porch of our small house, Rien was a dedicated father in his own way. He had put me in charge of cleaning and feeding the baby, but the education was entirely up to him. He spent most of his free time teaching her new words through drawings. He was passionate about expanding his daughter's vocabulary...Like someone who feeds a chatbot with dialogues...The little girl on her side was obsessed with Rien, she screamed "papa" every time she saw the image of a man or a male animal, she had an absolute devotion to her father. But she ignored me. I interrupted them, leaning out of a window:

–Hey, Mallory, isn't Mommy in your drawing? Where's Mommy?

The girl kept shouting "papa" and pointing to the father in her illustrated family pictures. I insisted:

–Come on, say "mommy." It seems the baby still doesn't understand that her mother is more than just boobs.

Then something seemed to light up in Rien, she turned to look at me spitefully and spoke to me in a sarcastic tone:

–Does it bother you? That soccer captain in high school treated you the same way and you didn't complain.

–Are you talking about Jamal, the guy you were infatuated with until you caught him drunk at a party and then, when he fell in love with you, you rejected him because you swore you weren't what he thought you were?

–Don't be a sore loser, Joy. He chose me at the end of the day.

–It's not funny, Rien...

–Not really, I always hated to imagine you had anything with him, or anyone else for that matter. Don't think I wasn't aware of the rumors, Joy, they called us "the whore and her faggot friend"...

–Everyone thought I was a slut because you made it public that we had lost our virginity together before we lost our baby teeth, and then you said you weren't interested in girls... And I was left with the fame.

–I don't understand your justifications, but we're with Mallory now. I don't want us to talk about this in front of our daughter.

Rien kept telling me in hints that he didn't trust me. He was jealous, possessive and resentful whenever I mentioned anything that reminded him of the time before we were married when I showed interest in meeting other people. His company was like a constant accusation. Every day the tension increased; he could not forget the past. When I received dressed, I would look at my body in the mirror and think that maybe I could no longer walk into a bar and feel like a queen with several guys around me. It seemed a shame in a way, even though I was repulsed by those alcoholic losers, it boosted my ego to arrive at a place and become the sensation of the moment. If Rien was at home, he would invariably appear as if reading my thoughts, rambling on about the possibility of exciting other men. Then he would begin to question me:

–Isn't that dress too short?

–The day it's hot. Besides, only you will see it on me. It doesn't matter if it is.

–Are you sure?

–Your distrust kills me...

–How could I trust? I've never been with another woman, while you...

–Not with another woman, but I lost count after you passed ten boys at school. I really thought you were gay and what we were doing was just to pass the time. But here we are...

–We said it didn't count if we did it with someone of the same sex.

–It's a very convenient arrangement when you're the only bisexual of the two of us... It's not fair.

In response, she turned to look at Mallory, who was trying to crawl on our bed. She was making tender noises from which I could only make out that she was repeatedly naming her daddy. As adults we can understand that mom and dad have many differences with each other, many faults, but to say this to a small child is like spitting on their innocence. They believe their parents are the best in the world and their immense love for each other nurtures them, they feel they are the longed-for fruit of a happy union. It must be terrible for a little girl to know that she was born by mistake, that mom would have preferred another dad, that her birth was not all good, and Rien and I really loved each other... I definitely did not want my daughter to grow up hearing these discussions. I took a breath and said:

–We've known each other forever, Rien. We are more than just husband and wife. We're almost brother and sister. You can't not trust me.

–You're here with me, but that's not enough. You must want to be by my side, to give up everything else of your own free will. If you don't want to give yourself up like that, don't ask me to trust you.

–You're beginning to sound like the A.I. of my dream. A little more and you'll ask me to commit suicide and offer you my blood.

It was like this every so often, a stupid argument that hurt us both. It's easy to talk about forgiveness, we all think we deserve an apology, but when it comes to sincere repentance and admitting mistakes...no one raises their hand.

On Sundays we would go to the catharsis center, a sort of temple of the Modified religion. Generally confessors are asexual and do not marry, those who have a partner must exhibit it as an example of conjugal love; my job was to arrive very well dressed, with a perfectly clean baby, sit in the front row and listen to my husband's sermon with my daughter in my arms. I knew Rien was proud, his wife was a very elegant upper-class lady; unlike Faust and others who only resented my origins in the Natural aristocracy, he put me on a pedestal, almost like a trophy...It wasn't wrong...but it wasn't right either. Rien was to give a vapid motivational sermon while the attendees, all haggard-looking attendees, all haggard looking, waited for medication time; when in line they would stand up for him to give them a dose of a strong antidepressant that would help them feel good for a week. I had never taken it before, but one day I decided to. I could tell that my initiative angered Rien, the confessor's wife is always supposed to feel happy and not need to be medicated. But I was feeling very confused and discouraged. I joined the line with Mallory getting happier and happier as we received a few steps closer to Rien, as we stood in front of him, he glared at me, but I ignored his reproach. Visibly annoyed, he kept silent and did not deny me the drug, but made me take a double dose. From that week on, I was like an automaton resigned to that life. During the day I cleaned and at night I let Rien do whatever he wanted to me. He was always coming up with some new sexual game. It was foolish and senseless pleasure, a delicious nectar that was losing its flavor as I drank it. I was fed up with the loving husband who kept me captive at home, I missed my best friend and exploring the world together.

I began to wonder if this new prison in which Rien locked me up was another Windbell's trick, in which case I could be free if I killed him, and maybe I would also have to kill the baby...since she looked like an annex of the same malevolent entity. So, I waited until nightfall, hid a knife from the kitchen in Mallory's crib. Then I waited until they were asleep. That night he was more confident than usual, I was hugging and cuddling him so he would fall asleep soon. He was not suspicious. Rather he seemed grateful, curled up on my chest very comfortably. By midnight, they were both sleeping peacefully and soundly. It was time. However, when the time came, I didn't want to do anything. I loved them, they were part of me, I didn't want to hurt them; we were a family in trouble and I realized that the solution was not in my hands alone, nor would it be fixed if only one of the three of us received help. I wished with anguish that the community would intervene, that the neighbors would ask me how I felt, that people would hold Rien accountable for how he was leading his life so that he would prove with facts that he deserved the position of counselor and professional confessor. But I knew that would never happen, the society in which we lived, like many others, did not think for the benefit of all but for the strongest; like a cart pulled by donkeys where each one wants to run in different directions. No one interfered in the lives of others if it was not for personal gain. And I had no more strength, I didn't know what else to do, that's how it would be for the rest of my existence. Suddenly, Rien kissed me right over my heart and leaned his face on my breasts again, caressing my back; he never opened his eyes, he pretended to be asleep, but it seemed to me that he was comforting me or that he was aware of what I was thinking and telling me that he understood me. In that instant, it was as if I discovered a somewhat telepathic communication between the two of us through which he was proposing that we work on leaving the past behind and only worry about the present and the future, which were already difficult. I wanted to reply that we could not do it alone and it would be necessary to ask for help when suddenly I heard a familiar voice in the distance. It was Fey. I thought I had fallen asleep and was starting to dream. But in fact, I was waking up.

 


THE YEARS OF EXILE

        

I woke up with my head shaved, I had surgery on my skull, Fey was standing in front of my hospital bed talking almost hysterically:

–He had you in a coma for almost six months, Joy! We tried to access it, but it was encrypted, released into cyberspace and every time we thought we controlled it, it would download back into your implant through a back door. Since it was impossible to remove it by computer means, they had to agree to surgically remove the implant and so you woke up. But we still couldn't control it, your friend was too crazy and resentful, his memory perverted the A.I.!

Fey was talking to me about things I didn't understand, I didn't know what the reality was anymore. A baby's cry could be heard in the distance and sounded very much like Mallory when she was dirty or hungry.

–But I was in a house, Fey, it was real, my home...My house....

–No, it was all fake. It connected you to a virtual reality, Limbo, a subsystem attached to the funerary A.I.'s. Their "heaven". When the A.I. is being activated regularly, time continuity is maintained so that the program always acts as if the deceased has only gone to live in "a better place" and has a more human relationship with their relatives. Limbo is an artificial environment where the funeral A.I. continues to run when it has no interaction with human beings, it can simulate a summer resort, a retirement home or any place where the deceased would have felt comfortable; a whole virtual "afterlife". Sometimes, the A.I. memory is informed that it only represents a person already dead, sometimes not. Rien's Limbo is a world where he continues to work as a confessor in a poor neighborhood in France. When I modified it with Windbell's system, he began to look for ways to make his world more pleasant for him and that's why he was determined to keep you in a coma. He wanted you to be his wife and raise his daughter together.

At that moment I felt my heart shrink as I imagined him waking up and seeing himself alone in the house with the baby. Who would take care of his little computer chimera while he went to work numbing the sorrows of the other funeral A.I.'s in Limbo? Who would wait for him when he came home and warm him on rainy nights? Suddenly I felt nauseous, the crying was still audible, I could recognize it. It was Mallory's cry; I was sure of it.

–That's my daughter, she's calling me....

–No, Joy...It's the Windbell, it's manipulating you to come back; we haven't been able to block it, it infiltrates wherever it can, looking to get to you. He has infected the hospital system and is playing that cry over the speakers to pressure you to go back to him, but that would be a bad decision. If you go back online, you may not be able to wake up.

–What do you mean?

Fey explained to me in terror:

–Artificial intelligences learn, they don't forget, you already escaped once when we forced the closure of your session in Rien's Limbo by removing the implant. If you come back of your own free will and he kills you before you yourself refuse to be connected, your user will remain there anyway as if you were still alive. He will want to kill you in this reality so that you only exist in his reality. The worst thing is that, by dying like this, your virtual self would become a slave of the host program, like in a guided game, you will have to follow a script that you may or may not accept, but you would have to obey anyway. He apparently wants you to be his partner in twisted sexual games where he confuses tenderness with torture, love with hate. It would be like Rien's ghost desecrating your corpse for all eternity. Hell.

I was still in a daze, more attentive to the crying I kept hearing in the distance:

–How can you be sure it's not my daughter Mallory? It's normal for a baby to be anxious about going back to her mother if she's hungry or afraid.

–Joy, that wasn't your daughter! Your baby is... She's here.

She said pointing to a silver oval funeral urn resting on a table near my bed. Then he continued speaking sadly:

–As I promised you, I found Rien's ashes. And I've mixed them with your baby's...The police found her under your bed, Joy. Your case cost my career, but it doesn't matter. Everything was meticulously investigated, even your residence. That's where they discovered the vial and were initially going to throw it away, but they notified Faust first and he insisted it wasn't his and the real father might want to keep it. DNA tests were done and, as we all suspected, it was Rien's baby. In this funeral urn rest your best friend and your daughter. Here is your real baby, Joy. She rests in peace with her father and they are both with you now.

I hugged the urn, I felt too emotionally drained to cry and I couldn't do it, it had been so much pain, so many years of resigned suffering culminating in those days of dreadful confusion, that I could only take it in my arms and press it to my chest. There I had my funny, chubby Mallory who was never born, my poor, shy Rien with his teddy bear at four years old...At that moment I asked myself: what would have happened if I hadn't spoken to that child hiding under the tables? I could not answer myself. I could no longer imagine a life other than the one I had with Rien. The one I would have had with Rien.

I asked Fey, when the time came, to put my ashes next to theirs, for Rien was hoarding Mallory as if she were his alone. I wanted Fey to release us all together later in the grove near my house, so the baby would know the place where we went to play when we were kids and fell in love as teenagers. Soon after I was sent to a remote tropical island where technology was minimal, there was a sanctuary for abused Natural women and I could grieve in peace without the Windbell harassing me. The first few months were terrible, I cried almost all the time. There was so much I couldn't tell Rien, so many things I would have liked to do with Mallory, I felt equal parts anger and sadness. After a couple of years, I started to get over it. I would spend Rien's birthdays on the beach with the urn, remembering the happy times we had together. I could almost feel him next to me, complaining about the heat or the humidity ruffling his hair. His ashes, contained in that egg of death, were always next to me; I kept them warm with the heat of my body, as if I was incubating something...

Fey called me almost every day, three years after my arrival on the island she had left behind the negative aspects of the "Killer Windbell" scandal, as the media called it, and became really successful with her own company. She finally moved to a big city and became an important woman even in the eyes of the Modifieds. Faust called me once to say goodbye to me for good, he said he was very sick and suffering from cruel harassment. Something involving his late son, he wouldn't tell me what exactly, but I guess it was related to the Windbell. I imagine that, after losing track of me, Bell turned his strange libido on Siébel and this horrified Faust who was an old-fashioned Natural. A year later, Faust had died of a heart attack.

With Fey always busy with her work and my exhusband deceased, I was left with no friends or acquaintances off the island, truly alone; and one afternoon as I reflected this during a saltwater swim on the beach, I took a big breath of air and exhaled. Nothing bound me, I was free. I don't know if I was happy at that moment, but I did feel an immense peace.

I turned 30 and made new friends throughout that time, they put a little pressure on me to leave bachelorhood and rebuild my life with another man. Instead of asking them not to judge my personal tastes, they somehow convinced me that happiness was impossible for a woman if she didn't start a family. If I didn't have an "owner". I didn't feel bad or lonely, in fact, I enjoyed this new world that didn't only revolve around finding someone to have sex with every two or three days, but they insisted so much that I started to become more obsessed with Rien; I didn't care that he was dead, he was still my best friend, the most special one, the love of my life. At night I would tell his ashes how my day was and sleep hugging his urn. One day I was contacted by an old friend of Rien's from the time he was preparing to become a confessor in Paris. He was an engineer who studied at his same university and worked alongside him in some activities involving different faculties of the academic institution. The man, a modified Korean man dressed in an office suit who introduced himself as Motus, spoke to me by video call with great seriousness

–I have a copy of Rien's Windbell in my possession. I would show it to you, but your friend Fey has informed me about how aggressive he becomes when he manages to get information about you. Right now I had to take many precautions so that he does not infiltrate and know that we are talking. Rien-Windbell...or "Bell" as you and Fey call him, never ceases to intrigue me. He has many encrypted processes, he is developing something, but we don't know what it is.

–Has he said anything to you about Mallory?

–He doesn't talk about himself. He asks questions, but he doesn't blurt anything out. He's basically Rien...Always with mysteries...It's difficult emotionally for those of us who knew him in life because the perverse artificial intelligence with suspicious intentions has totally merged with the personality of that disturbing boy who hid so many secrets.

–Was Rien happy in Paris, Motus?

–I don't know, sometimes he had faith in the future, sometimes he gave everything for lost, he was one of those people who laughs and we don't know if at his own misfortune. I will show you some scenes from the last day we spent together. When we shot that video, I was seventeen years old. Rien was eighteen.

Hearing this made me emotional, I wanted to see him again, even if it was like this. In my memories, Rien ceased to be flawed and became an obsession. He was the personification of everything good from my past, everything I lost, my own youth and innocence. I didn't need anything else, Rien, the nothing, was my everything. Motus kept talking:

–He was the only friend I made outside of engineering school.

Nice guy, though rather strange.

–I know, he was very shy and quiet, but you can't imagine how much I miss him.

–Shy?…Not at all, miss Joy. Maybe he was holding back from you, ma'am, he was very much in love with you and convinced that if he didn't manage to take you as his wife and procreate together, his life would cease to have any meaning. I think he was worried about this, but he took out his anxiety by trying to make everyone around him feel confused as well. When I received a copy of the broken Windbell, I had no trouble recognizing him. There was Rien, "calm and sweet," but the things he was saying and doing...I don't know. Look here, at the video.

The screen then loaded the images of Rien with sunglasses and his rebellious look of adolescence under a morning snowfall, preparing to scare Motus from behind, laughter could be heard and everything was bright. My sweet Rien, I was already twice his age, he was awakening maternal instincts in me. From time to time, some hypocritical friend would criticize me. Women said it was my fault that I could no longer be a mother, men accused me of being cold and selfish for not wanting to rebuild my life with one of them. No one knew that I had sacrificed all that to the memory of Rien. He was my lover, my brother, my friend and my son. Fey used to tell me not to listen to them, she was happy without a man or children by her side, I told her she was right, but I never confessed to her how I felt about Rien. Maybe I should have...Motus brought me out of my thoughts again:

–That was in Italy, for six months we did academic work together there. A friend of mine was filming.

A girl's voice was heard laughing offstage:

–Greet the camera, Motus. A few words before being raped by the seminarian on the crew?

–Back off, you fucking gay satanic priest!

Motus could be seen screaming and then Rien feigned innocence saying:

–Admit it, this is the only way you could lose your virginity.

Hearing his voice had a profound effect on me, I thought that around me life seemed meaningless without a love and a family; and that only made me cling more to Rien. All those comments reproaching me for not being a wife and mother at my age were like stabs, I never showed that they hurt because I knew they were saying it to hurt me and I didn't want to give them that satisfaction. At the same time, my silence prevented anyone from healing me with the balm of understanding. The past, Rien, was again my last outlet. A few words of encouragement might have sufficed, but I was a coward and remained closed in on myself and silent. The camera suddenly switched to another scene where Rien was bragging by a water canal:

–If I really wanted to rape you, I would drug you first, as a confessor I have a license to use all kinds of narcotics! Tied to a bed and unconscious. You wouldn't even know what hit you.

There was a close up of his eyes staring into the camera with malice and I lost it, something snapped inside my being. Motus' voice was heard for the last time on the video:

–Record that! Then it can be evidence for the police, you sick fuck!

The recording ended there and I hurried to say goodbye to Motus, I had too much to think about. He advised me to call Fey as I felt strange, but I really just wanted to be alone. Watching the waves break on the beach under the moon that night, I meditated. In my uncertainty and confusion I was determined not to let them mistreat me again. I didn't want to take false steps, venture out or try anything new. Little by little I began to wonder if in some small corner of the past I could find solutions to my new sadness. So the idea came back to my mind to look for the Windbell again, to ask him to let me carry Mallory.

I had to make several bribes until I finally received my hands on an old virtual reality device that barely connected to cyberspace. I struggled for a long time until I found a hidden file cabinet where they talked about the killer Windbell case and were supposed to have a copy of the original program. I opened it anxiously, feeling an emptiness in my stomach and my hands trembling. The virtual environment loaded before me the Windbell logo, a cassock-clad but rather obese silhouette was projected, and I found that this Windbell was not the same model I had the problem with.

But my search had drawn the attention of the real thing. Another tall black shadow was approaching me from behind. He found me.

    


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