CHAPTER 8

The living room had a stillness about it, a sort of tense expectation hanging in the air as Jack found Sarah sitting there, a book resting unattended in her lap. The past few days had been a whirlwind of silent meals and avoided glances, but Jack knew this charade couldn't continue. He needed to bridge this chasm between them, or at least appear to.

"Sarah?" he began, his voice a mix of rehearsed uncertainty and feigned distress.

She looked up, her expression guarded. "Yes?"

He took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to confess his deepest sins. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," Jack started, edging closer but careful to maintain a respectful distance. "About everything... us, me, that—” he gestured vaguely, unwilling to directly reference the VR, “—machine."

Sarah's posture stiffened, but she didn’t interrupt.

"I can't shake this feeling of being utterly lost," he continued, his voice a well of crafted despair. "I didn't realize it until now, how deep I'd gone... how much I was trying to escape. But it wasn't real. None of it was real."

The silence stretched between them, taut as a wire.

"And?" Sarah prompted, a hint of impatience in her tone.

Jack’s eyes met hers, imbuing as much sincerity into his gaze as he could muster. "I believe we need help, professional help. I do, certainly. Maybe we... we could consider couples therapy?"

Her eyebrows knit together, contemplating, evaluating the truth in his words. "Therapy? You're saying you want us to see a therapist about this... this obsession of yours?"

"Yes, obsession, addiction, whatever it is, it's clear I can't handle it on my own." Jack exhaled, feigning relief at the admission. "I need to understand why I did what I did, why I chose a fantasy over our reality. And I'm scared, Sarah. I'm scared of what it's already done to us, what it might still do if left unaddressed."

For a long moment, Sarah just stared at him, searching his face for the sincerity of his words. He met her gaze steadily, knowing that any deceit detected now would ruin everything.

"You're really willing to work through this? With a therapist?" she asked, the frost in her voice thawing just a bit.

"Absolutely," he replied without hesitation. "I want to fix this. Fix us. I want to find our way back to how things used to be, before... all this." He waved his hand vaguely, encompassing the tension, the VR machine, the silent days, everything.

Sarah sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke of her internal turmoil. "Okay, Jack. Okay. We'll try therapy. But this," she gestured around as he did, "this gets dealt with too. No more VR. No more Patricia. Agreed?"

Jack's heart skipped but he kept his expression neutral, earnest. "Agreed. No more hiding, no more running from reality."

She nodded slowly, still hesitant, but with a glimmer of something hopeful in her eyes. "We'll start looking for someone tomorrow then."

Jack offered a small, contrite smile, "Thank you, Sarah. We'll get through this, I promise."

As he turned to leave, his heart was pounding not from the fear of losing Sarah, but from the exhilaration of the act. The first step was complete, the stage set for his secret return to Patricia.

That night, on the couch, Jack touched himself and massaged his barely noticable budding breasts, the small bit of evidence that suggested it was actually possible to becoming Patricia... for real. 

His mind abuzz with promising images and the shadow of triumph dancing in his periphery. He'd mapped it all out — the simple strategy to coax Sarah out, secure the hard drive, and immerse himself one last glorious time in that rapturous persona that had become his obsession. The thrill pulsated within him, a live wire coursing through his veins.

But as sleep began to blur the sharp corners of his thoughts, a gnawing guilt slunk in, casting a pall over his excitement. It was a tether, that guilt, binding him to a reality he was desperate to escape yet couldn't fully abandon.

Drifting into the realm of dreams, Patricia materialized from the mist, more enchanting than ever. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. She was no mere figment but a promise, a fulfillment of every hidden desire.

"Jack," her voice was a sultry hum, wrapping around him like silk. "We're troubled, my love."

He found himself nodding, caught in the tempest of his emotions. "It's... it's all so overwhelming, Patricia. We're being torn apart."

"We're standing at destiny's door," she purred, closing the distance between them, her aura enveloping him. "But remember, darling, destiny is ours to seize, to mold, to relish."

He gazed at her, eyes stinging, the very fabric of his being resonating with her words. "It needs to end, though, doesn't it? This... fixation. It's an illusion. Even if the machine changes us, it's insufficient. After I retrieve the hard drive and get one last taste, it'll be the final curtain."

A knowing smile played on Patricia's lips, her eyes sparkling with secrets. "Is that the end we desire, Jack? Or the end you believe you're supposed to desire?"

"I don't know!" His voice cracked, the confession ripping from his chest.

"Shh," Patricia soothed, her fingers tracing the contour of his jaw, igniting his skin wherever they touched. "It's alright to fear the unknown, my sweet. But fear is a choice. And so is surrender."

He leaned into her, her touch a fire he didn't want to extinguish. "But these choices... they could harm those I care for."

Patricia's face softened, her gaze intimate, piercing. "Sometimes, darling, we need to risk the flame to rise from the ashes. But fear not; you're not alone. You'll never be alone with me, with us."

Her form began to dissipate, her essence a cascade of stars in the darkness, but her voice anchored him to the spot. "Remember, Jack. The machine. There's a fail-safe. Remember the fail-safe."

He awoke to a world washed in the gray light of the early dawn, her scent still in the air, her echo in the stillness. "The fail-safe." He whispered the word. What would that do? If he just switched it off and let the machine run, unencumbered. No, he thought to himself. He shouldn't. That's going too far. Right? The question loomed over him as fell back to sleep to get a couple more hours rest, before the big day.
* * *

In the morning, Jack lay sprawled on the couch, feigning a pallor of illness, his breathing deliberately labored to draw concern. After the VR debacle Sarah didn't trust him, she become a constant presence, not once venturing outside. But today, Jack's plan required her absence. He only hoped that his earlier confession was enough to alleviate some of her concern.

"Jack?" Sarah's voice, tinged with anxiety, disrupted the stillness. She appeared in the doorway, dressed for the lab but her focus entirely on the domestic tableau before her.

"I feel terrible," Jack groaned, putting on a convincing show of discomfort, his hand on his stomach. "I'm dizzy, and this nausea..." he let his voice trail off, his face contorted into a grimace.

Sarah's forehead creased as she came closer, her hand instinctively reaching for his brow, checking for a fever. "You're not running a temperature," she observed, her mind visibly sifting through the facts. "Well, I hope you're better by Monday. Our first session with the therapist, Dr. Mathers."

Then, she froze, her eyes widening in realization. "This could be from the VR. These symptoms... they might be a reaction, some kind of side effect we didn't anticipate."

Jack kept his face neutral, feigning ignorance. "Could it be? I thought it was something I ate, or maybe a bug. Maybe Covid." he mumbled, steering her thoughts.

Sarah looked conflicted but considered his suggestion. "Maybe, but we can't ignore the timing, Jack. This VR tech is advanced, experimental. We don't fully understand its implications yet. Especially after... what happened."

"I know," Jack sighed, his expression one of resigned concern. "Could you maybe head to the store for me? We need some medicine, and um... soup. I'd normally do it, but right now, I just can’t."

She hesitated, glancing toward her office as if something was beckoning her there, suspicion flickering briefly in her eyes. But, eventually, concern for Jack won over. "Okay, just... stay put. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Ok." he replied, his voice soft.

She paused at the door, her hand on the knob, and looked back at him, her eyes a complex interplay of emotions. "I love you." she said, the words heavy with unspoken fears.

The moment the door closed behind her, Jack's pretense crumbled. Energized, he sprang up from the couch, his mind ablaze with thoughts of Patricia, the hard drive in Sarah’s office, and the irresistible pull of the VR world. Guilt tugged at the corners of his mind for manipulating Sarah’s emotions, but it was quickly smothered by his overwhelming need. He had a singular focus now — to be Patricia once again, no matter the cost.

He sprang from the couch and dashed to Sarah's office, his heart pounding in his ears like an ominous drum. The room, usually a haven of tranquility and thought for Sarah, now felt like the epicenter of his desperation.

The hard drive was his singular focus, the key to Patricia and the surreal, intoxicating world that awaited him. He rifled through Sarah's meticulously organized drawers and files, papers and pens clattering in his wake. But the hard drive remained elusive, hidden away as if it sensed his frantic need.

His breaths came in sharp jags as he scanned the room, and then he saw it — the vault. It was a compact, steel construct, innocuous among the academic clutter, yet he knew it held what he so desperately sought.

"Think, Jack, think," he muttered to himself, raking his hands through his hair. "She's a creature of logic, not spontaneity. There’s a reason behind her password, something... something she won't forget."

His mind raced through possibilities, significant dates, their anniversaries, her parent’s birthdays, the day they met, the day they married. Each attempt met with the same, unyielding denial from the vault's digital keypad.

Panic clawed at his chest, a reminder of the time ticking away with each failed attempt. Jack took a deep breath and after a long puase in thought, he entered his own birthday. The vault's lock disengaged with a soft click that sounded like victory.

"I'm her password..." he whispered, the revelation mingling with an ache he didn't expect. It was a stark reminder of the life he was defying, of the love that he was betraying in his pursuit of this digital fantasy.

Pushing the thought aside, he grabbed the hard drive, its weight in his hands both a literal and figurative burden. With it secured, Jack hurried to the basement, to the sanctum of wires and screens where Patricia awaited.

Descending the stairs, his conflicting emotions battled. The basement lab's subdued lighting cast long shadows, transforming the room into a tableau of half-seen shapes and lurking doubts. Jack's hands were steady but his heart wasn't, thudding erratically as he clutched the hard drive like a lifeline. "One step at a time, Jack," he muttered to himself, his voice a lone anchor in the quiet. "Just set everything up. Routine."

The basement lab was dimly lit, a cavern of both technological marvels and deep personal secrets. Jack's footsteps echoed slightly as he descended, each step heavier than the last, a physical manifestation of the internal weight he carried. In his hands, the hard drive felt strangely warm, as though it pulsed with the life of the digital entity it harbored.

He inserted the hard drive, the machine accepting it with a soft click that resounded through the stillness. "There, part one done," he continued, narrating his actions as if distancing himself from their implications. The system whirred and blinked to life, the startup sequence innocent in its familiarity. "Just another day at the office, right?"

The chair was cold, unwelcoming, despite the countless hours he'd spent there. Jack shivered, fastening himself in. "Strap in, Jack. Like a roller coaster, yeah? Just a bit of fun," he tried to chuckle, but it sounded strangled. He donned the helmet, the finality of the act pressing down upon him. "Last piece of the puzzle. Now, we dive."

The VR realm greeted him with its customary blank slate, a world of potential at his fingertips. And there it was—the 'Patricia' program, an icon so small, so unassuming, yet it held his entire universe. Jack's finger hovered, trembling. "Just a tap, Jack. One little tap. Don't think."

But something felt different this time, something wasn't right. The 'Patricia' program icon stood there, like it always had, a digital representation of his deepest desires. Jack's hand was frozen and poised, his hesitancy a palpable entity in the virtual expanse. He was a man on the edge of a precipice, the winds of change and consequence buffeting him fiercely.

He was sweating, the droplets beading at his forehead, tension ratcheting as his digital finger inched closer to the program. "This is it, the last time. And I won't... I can't even think about touching the fail-safe. Ok? Ok. The last time," he half-begged, half-affirmed. His mind raced, his love for Sarah, his identity, his moral compass, all crashing like waves against the unyielding allure of Patricia's siren song.

Yet, even as he fortified his resolve, a sinister whisper threaded through his consciousness, a venomous realization that chilled him to the bone.

"But what happens when I'm her? Will I...will we... will she keep those promises? Oh no. Oh shit!" His eyes went wide.

The thought was a tidal wave, a raging force of gut wrentching realization. In that horrifying moment of clarity, his finger, as though possessed, tapped the program into life.

When he made contact, the transformation began; it was slow, almost syrupy. "Wait.. wait!" Jack's voice pitched higher, edged with panic. "This isn't right, this isn't—"

His skin was the first betrayal, tingling, itching, then smoothing out in places, roughening in others. Jack tried to scream, but the sound caught in a throat that felt tighter, different. "No, no, no. Mmm. Yesssss. No! I didn't want this... I dont... I... want... this. I want this. Mmm, yes! I want this!" His tone began to shift, twisted from fear into something darker, more delighted, more sensual.

Muscles warped, bones shifted, a relentless, liquid digital metamorphosis more intense than before, it delivered both ecstasy and agony. With each second, Jack felt his fears slip away, his horror strangled by the burgeoning persona that clawed its way to the surface. There was a last moaning scream, as his voice fully completed it's change, with a final feminine yelp. Then silence.  

Faint at first, his—her—laughter filled the space, a sound devoid of Jack's warmth, imbued instead with Patricia's dark amusement. Until, at last, the laughter peaked at a full on maniacal cackle, dripping with lustful exultation.   

Fully realized, Patricia stretched her body. She was an elegant, predatory thing of beauty and terror. She took a moment, savoring her form in all it's glory, filling out the sultry red digitial dress. Running her hands appreciatively along curves that no longer belonged to Jack, a wicked smile played across her lips.

"Mmm. There. Much better," Patricia purred, her voice a velvet caress in the sterile digital landscape. She laughed, the sound rich with promise and danger. "What was I ever worried about?"