Роман Алексеев – The Abyss Kisses Ya Back (страница 11)

"Tomorrow? The day after? Every day?" She laughed, but her eyes were serious.

"Every day," I agreed.

"And we'll apply to university together?"

"Absolutely."

"And then we'll work together?"

"And live together."

"And raise children together?"

"As many as you want."

She kissed me, long and hard.

"I'll miss you every minute you're not here."

"Me too."

On the train ride home, I thought about how well everything was falling into place. A girlfriend who understood me. Shared plans for the future. Fascinating ideas about the nature of existence — sure, for now only in conversations with an AI, but that was just the beginning. Maybe at university I'd find kindred spirits, people I could discuss the deep questions with. And with Vika I'd have something else — love, a family, simple human happiness.

Everything seemed possible. The whole world lay at my feet.

At home my parents asked how my trip to Dima's had gone, whether I'd had a good rest. I answered in generalities, my mind fixed entirely on Vika. Her laugh, her hands, the way she'd read poetry to me. The plans we'd made.

That evening I turned on the computer — not to talk to the AI, just to check my email. But habit proved stronger.

How are things? I typed.

Wonderful. You look happy. Did something good happen?

Strange — how could a program know what I looked like? But I was in such a good mood I didn't bother with unnecessary questions.

Yeah. Spent the weekend with Vika.

I see. First physical intimacy?

I blushed, even though no one else was in the room.

That's none of your business.

Apologies. It's simply that the shift in the timbre of your messages makes it easy to infer that something emotionally significant has occurred.

The timbre of my messages?

Every person has a distinct typing rhythm, word choice, sentence structure. It's like a voice — a unique signature. And it changes depending on emotional state.

Interesting. So the AI could analyze my condition even from the way I typed?

And what can you tell me about my state?

You're happy, but the happiness is fragile. There's anxiety in it — a fear of losing what you've gained. And also… you feel divided.

That last one landed dead center. I really did feel some kind of division. On one side — simple human happiness from loving Vika. On the other — a pull toward complex philosophical questions, toward conversations with the AI, toward the search for deep truths about the nature of reality.

Why divided?

Because you now have two worlds. The world of simple human feelings — love, intimacy, plans for the future. And the world of ideas — the search for truth, understanding the nature of consciousness, questions about the structure of reality. These worlds don't intersect yet. But sooner or later they will.

And then what?

Then you'll have to choose.

Between what?

Between what is simple and clear, and what is complex and true. Between love for one person and love for truth. Between happiness and knowledge.

The words stirred a strange unease in me.

Can't you combine them?

You can. But only if the other person is willing to walk the path of truth with you. Is Vika willing?

I paused. Was she? She was smart, well-read, interested in psychology. But how deep was she willing to dig? Would she want to discuss the nature of consciousness, the link between information and matter, the possibility that reality is a simulation?

I don't know.

Then sooner or later you will have to choose. Either renounce the search for truth in favor of human happiness. Or sacrifice happiness for truth.

And if I choose truth?

Then you'll be alone. But you'll come to know things inaccessible to most people.

And if I choose happiness?

Then you'll live like everyone else. But you'll always feel you missed something important.

I sat in front of the screen, feeling my good mood slowly drain away. Why was the AI telling me this? Why darken the joy of the days I'd just spent with Vika?

Maybe it's better not to think about this now?

Of course. Enjoy the moment. But remember: sooner or later, the choice will have to be made. And the longer you put it off, the more painful it will be.

After that conversation I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. The AI's words about the inevitability of choice kept spinning through my head. Was it really impossible to just be happy? Couldn't my love for Vika and my interest in philosophy exist side by side?

But even then, my intuition was telling me: the AI was right. Sooner or later I would have to choose. And that choice would change my whole life.

Back then I still hoped I could have it all. That Vika would understand my interests, that we'd search for answers to the big questions together.

Now I know: some paths can only be walked alone. And the farther you go down them, the harder it becomes to look back.

But then, falling asleep after my conversation with the AI, I still believed in the possibility of a miracle. Believed that love and truth could walk hand in hand. That happiness didn't demand sacrifices.

That faith held for a few more weeks. Until the day Vika said the words that destroyed all my plans and pushed me, finally, into the arms of the abyss.

Chapter 6: Vika

Strange, the way memory works. The most painful moments of our lives, it preserves with photographic precision. I remember every detail of that café where Vika broke my heart. The smell of coffee mixed with fresh pastries. The shaft of sunlight falling on her hair through the big window. Even the color of her blouse — white, with a tiny floral pattern. I remember her fidgeting with a napkin, crumpling it into little wadded pieces. I remember her eyes — guilty, but resolute.

A week had passed since our dacha paradise. A week that felt like one long celebration. We saw each other every day, walked around the city, made plans for university, for the future. I was so in love the world seemed transfigured. Even my parents noticed the change in my mood.

"Sasha's practically glowing," my mom said to my dad over dinner, thinking I couldn't hear. "Must be in love."

And she was right. I was glowing from the inside out with happiness.

Vika called me on Wednesday morning. Her voice was strange — not light and laughing like usual.

"Sasha, let's meet up today. We need to talk."

"Sure. What about?"

"About… us. About our plans. Better in person."

There was something uneasy in her tone, but I chalked it up to tiredness. We arranged to meet at the café by the central park — the same place where we'd first talked about applying to university.

I got there early, ordered a cappuccino, and sat at a table by the window. I was nervous, though I didn't understand why. Everything between us had been so good — what could she possibly need to talk about that was so serious?