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Now reading: Chapter Twenty-one: Meeting The Therapist from Maniac’s Mayhem, a Action novel by Lividiea.

After dropping off Cierra, we make it to the house, or I guess, apartnt would be a more accurate na for it. The concept of sothing being an actual house kind of got lost like 20-Ish years ago. After the first couple of incursions, everything had to be built up really fast, so these ga buildings were constructed. All this to say, that when we walk through so hallways to get to her house, not that they are not nice hallways, it is several stories high, and they have streetlights and a small road going through it, and since this is the more expensive district, they probably have so kind of artificial sun going on as well.

Anika opened the door for us, and we headed inside. Once inside, I do a quick sweep to see if there are any devices that are watching or listening in. Besides so interactive kids' toys, I find nothing. I still make sure to turn them off, put them all in a box, and shove them into a corner.

“You find anything?” Anika asks.

“Not really,” I say, while still referencing the pictures. “Sothing is off, though.”

“And what would that be?”

“The angles make no sense. You said you had more pictures, right?”

“I do have so still saved,” she says as she starts rummaging through so drawers. “But what do you an, the angles make no sense?”

“Well, as far as I can tell, there are no fixed caras in those locations.”

“Doesn't that just an they placed so hidden caras sowhere?”

“I an, yes, for sure. That is why I want more angles so we can locate such caras.”

We spent the next couple of minutes looking at more of the pictures, and I startup so augnted reality modules to make sure I could draw so lines in the air. After a while, I have several lines in AR, all pointing in the sa general direction. I follow the lines outside until they terminate at the wall of the building across from us. I spent a good few minutes examining the wall, just in case. But I still can’t find any caras. If there is really a cara there, it would be Samurai grade, and then we are fucked either way, so let's not worry about it.

After doing a bit of a more comprehensive search of the area I do notice sothing interesting and start to trace kind of a triangle in the air.

“What are you doing?” Cierra asks over the channel.

“I am trying to draw the area without any cara coverage. This inter-area is a black zone. No street or door caras are pointed here.”

“So you think that soone ca here and took the pictures.”

“That would be the most optimal case.”

“What other options are there?”

“Piggyback programs installed on random people's devices could have taken the pictures as well.”

“Wait, things like that happen?”

“Not often. It takes a lot of processing power, so dedicated AI, and an entre team to review the footage.”

“So, you think that is the case here?”

“Probably not, but I guess it's better to check for everything. The easiest at the mont, is to check if there is soone going through this street often who does not belong here.”

“How are you going to do that? That sounds like a lot of work.”

“I just write an AI to do it for ?”

Is Lyssa the AI you are going to write?

Not wanting to give anything away, I just nod. I head back inside and lie down on the couch. I start up the process of half-diving into the sh. I don’t have a computer here, and writing programs on my augs, though possible, is kind of a pain, so sending myself to a virtual room with a PC for a bit will work much better.

Once I load into the room, I realize that I am not alone. For one, Cierra is here, or more accurately, her avatar, the thing completely covered in a combination of Samurai outfits. Her face is still her own, a realistic 3d rendering. There is another person as well. Well, it's or soone wearing my skin sa dirty blond hair and all. This is wearing so kind of toga you see in those historical depictions of the Romans. Her eyes are green instead of my amber-yellow, and I can swear that I see several numbers floating behind them as well. I instantly get a bad feeling. Cierra walks up to her and takes a closer look.

“Wow, Evelin, you did so upgrading. I like the new model.”

Lyssa is not Evelin. Lyssa is just Evelins personal AI, she says in a creepy robotic voice.

Cierra takes a few steps back and then looks at .

“Ah, so you are the real Evelin?”

“Kind of? The real one is technically still on the couch.”

“What is up with the weird AI?”

“It is easier to build a program on an existing AI than to make one from scratch,” I say. I an, technically true, I guess. It is easier to put additional paraters on an AI that was already built to recognize faces.

“I see. Why does she talk weirdly?”

“That I don’t know, but I am generally of the opinion that if I get an AI to work, I should not care about its weird quirks that much.”

Lyssa does not have any weird quirks. Lyssa is an advanced AI therapist designed to help you in the best way possible.

You know what, Lyssa’s way of speaking might actually convince Cierra that she is less capable than in reality, so I decide to just move on. I sit down behind the computer, but before I can start typing, the chair moves several ters backwards, and a plush office chair appears in its place. Lyssa quickly sits down on it and leans all the way back, looking at upside down.

Please let the professionals handle this.

“I would, but Dennis Ritchie is dead. So I guess you have to deal with .”

Well, then, it would be better for Lyssa to do it alone.

“Ooh, and why is that?”

Lyssa always leaves proper comnts and docuntation in her code.

“Oh, fuck off, I know exactly what my code does.”

Cierra, in the anti, is laughing her ass off beside . “You're losing an argunt with a computer program.” She says, still giggling.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny,” I say.

Then I change the virtual space and drag the computer straight to from Lyssa. I really don’t care if she is better or not, but the only thing in my life I have been good at is coding, and it is, therefore, sothing I won’t compromise on. As I start working, Lyssa keeps trying to take over, but at so point, she gives up and just points out mistakes I make instead. In my defense, the only mistakes I make reduce the optimization of the program. It does not stop it from working.

I want to say we got the job done quickly after that, but that was not the case. It took us the better part of the night to get everything sorted. It turns out that whoever is doing this is a bit smarter than average, hiring a different person every ti to take the pictures. These people are mostly covered from head to toe in black clothing and face masks, the whole works. Except for one guy around their mid-thirties, his face linking him to private investigator agencies also helps confirm that he is one of our likely suspects.

I turn around and notice that Cierra’s avatar has fallen asleep, aning that she has probably fallen asleep in real life and been forced to log out, only leaving this imprint behind. Lyssa, for her part, is just spinning around on her fancy chair. I still wonder if the Protectors gave a faulty AI just for giggles. But in the end, I decide that it does not matter since she ca when I needed her the most, so I will always be thankful.

I log out, and once I am back in reality, I do a big stretch before taking a look around. Anika is asleep at the dining table. I walk up to her, trying to nudge her to awake gently. Let’s just say she doesn’t respond, so I am forced to use more and more force. Until she suddenly wakes up and grabs my arm.

I look at it and say, “You think this is a good idea after what happened last ti?”

She imdiately let go “Fuck, sorry, I am just tired.”

“I can see that.”

She gives this death glare. “So why did you wake up? Do you know who did it yet?"

"Not really, but I got a lead. Want to go take a look at it with while the program tries to find more?”

“Ah, yeah, sure. Fuck, I am so tired, hope you don’t need to shoot anything.”

I quickly check to see if Cierra is still asleep, by ensuring there is no motion happening on her end. ‘Lyssa, can you give two of those wake-up calls?’

At that two cups appear in my hands, and Anika instantly jumps back. I raise my left arm towards her. “Here, this is yours. I do warn you, it is stupid bitter.”

“So, you are like the whole thing, not just a lackey but the whole thing.”

“Yes, and my arm is getting sore. Do you want it or not?”

She then takes the drink. “Thank you.”

“Thank after you taste it. I promise you; you won’t be grateful anymore.”

She looks down at her cup, then takes one big swig and swallows it all “Fuck! What is that stuff?”

“I don’t know, pure ATP or sothing,” I say, while trying to down my own drink. “At least it will wake you up; shall we go?”

“So, we are not going to address the Samurai-sized elephant in the room, then.”

“I an, if you want to, I don’t see much reason to do so; also, did you just call fat?”

“No, I was just wondering, why not tell everyone? I am pretty sure that if you go public, no one will bother you anymore, especially with a person like Maniac around.”

“Anika, I have several charges in my body, including my skull. If I go public, I go boom.”

She stared wide-eyed at . “Can’t you take them out?”

“Only if I find a way to take them all out at once.”

“What about your Samurai points?”

“I have 14 of those. Don’t think I will get there.”

“I see. Well then, shall we go then?” she asks, apparently feeling awkward about the situation now.

We quickly pick up the car again and head to this guy's supposed private investigation office. In reality, it is just a two-bedroom apartnt; I guess he has turned one of the rooms into an office. As we are driving, Cierra also wakes up and makes herself breakfast, which is great. I guess I don’t know; I am not really into this ASMR thing, and the constant crunching in my ear is making my skin crawl, but I have to deal with it for now.

We arrive at the bottom of one of those gated apartnt complexes and ring the door a few tis. Nothing happens, so I hack into the bell. You know, these things have basically nothing in there as far as security is concerned or much of any other hardware, for that matter, but you can crank up the volu of the speaker. All that is to say that the next ti we ring the bell, we can hear it loud and clear, even from the street.

A few monts later, a groggy voice cos over the intercom, "What do you want? I am currently not taking any more clients.”

“That is good then; we are no clients.” I say. And that is when I hear the line disconnected.

“Well, that went well,” Anika says

“Then you try, if you are so good at it.”

“Sure,” she says. And she starts to ring the bell again. Once the guy picks up again, she says, “We just have so questions about a case you worked on.”

“I am not telling you anything,” he says before hanging up again.

I just start ringing again. “If you guys don’t stop, I am calling the police, and who knows what will happen next,” he says.

“Ooh, that would be interesting, but I have to decline anyway. Your lock is a Fedoria Brisken model 34B. These have a fatal flaw, in that if you type in every combination in under half a second,” I say while running a program that does that. "They will open.” And the door opens up. “You better put on so clothes. We will be with you in a minute.”

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