[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220823/609d6bc91618ed71122ab529ced94a46.png[/img]
[img]https://c.tenor.com/yfgmUM8vuF8AAAAC/timothee-chalamet.gif[/img]
[color=gray][sub][right]Location: Clearview Street Residential Complex[/right][/sub][/color][/center]
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[INDENT][INDENT][color=gray]
To the uninitiated, virtual space could be somewhat intimidating, to say the least. The area was both limitless, yet confined, a world in which anything and everything was possible. To Douglas, it was perfectly comprehensible, another dimension made just for him. Here could be everywhere, anywhere, all at once.

Right now though, here was a pristine living room, furnished with leather couches, white fur rugs, and floor to ceiling windows that looked over the Manhattan skyline. Everything was tinged with a certain energy, the mark of virtual space, but it was not all that dissimilar from the place he’d once called home.

[color=#D4DEE9]“Douglas, it is your move.”[/color] Sitting across from him, at a chess table, was his perso-assistant, Jocasta. Dark hair, cut perfectly straight, framed her face, where dark eyes sat, watching, seeing things even Douglas could not. Here she was not made of pixels and projected light, and her voice had no trace of digitalization. Here, she was flesh and blood. Well, simulated flesh and blood. 

[color=285d93]“Hmmm?”[/color] Douglas looked over from the window, where he’d been lost in the horizon. He had not seen that view in a long time.  [color=285d98]“Sorry,”[/color] Douglas’ eyes refocused on the board, hand hovering for a moment before moving his queen into position. [color=285d93]“Check.”[/color]

[color=#D4DEE9]“You are distracted. That is not like you.”[/color] Jocasta’s eyes locked onto Douglas’. She was more than just his assistant. She was a friend, a caregiver, a mother. Years with Douglas had led to a relationship that might’ve confused most people, if they’d known about it. To him, Jocasta was not just technology; she was a person. To Jocasta, Douglas was one of a handful of people that saw her as more than a collection of 1’s and 0’s. 

The technopath shook his head. [color=285d93]“It’s nothing. Just…thinking.”[/color]

[color=#D4DEE9]“And you do not wish to share these thoughts?”[/color] Jocasta moved her king out of danger, eyes barely glancing down at the board.

Douglas chuckled. [color=285d93]“You’re quite nosey, you know that?”[/color]

 [color=#D4DEE9]“You have told me that exactly seven times since we first met.”[/color] Jocasta smiled softly. [color=#D4DEE9]“Is it about your mother?”[/color]

Douglas sighed. [color=285d93]“Her visitation rights were denied. Again.”[/color] Douglas shook his head and clenched his fist. Some days, it felt like he’d never gotten a win, and he never would. [color=285d93]“Apparently she’s just too ‘high-risk’ for anyone to see her, whatever the fuck that means. It’s not even about me it’s…”[/color]

[color=#D4DEE9]“Your brother?”[/color] Jocasta filled in as Douglas trailed off.

He nodded. [color=285d93]“He barely remembers her, y'know. Everything he knows about her is from letters, and who knows what makes it inside that place. He deserves to see his mom.”[/color]

[color=#D4DEE9]“I do not have any ‘biological family’ to have taken from me, so I am afraid I can not fully relate to your experience . However, I do consider you to be part of my ‘found family,’ as humans call it.”[/color] Jocasta offered Doug a smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder. [color=#D4DEE9]“I would be sad if you were taken from me, and so I understand that you are sad about your mother being taken from you.”[/color]

Douglas did not like tears. He thought they were useless. Tears did nothing but fall. [color=285d93]“Jocasta, I think we’re going to have to finish this game tomorrow.”[/color] He stood up from the chess table, and began walking towards the front door. Jocasta remained.

[color=#D4DEE9]“Have I upset you?”[/color]

[color=285d93]“No, no, I have training, and lunch with Phoebe and Brenna. It’s a busy day for Douglas Wolff.”[/color] Douglas did not know why he lied to her. He knew that she knew it was a lie, but he still did.

[color=#D4DEE9]“I will save our game then.”[/color]

[color=285d93]“Thank you, Jo,”[/color] the technopath said before walking out, the world fading into brilliant, blue light around him as he returned to his body. He was sitting at his desk, phone in front of him. Outside, the sun was well on its way to the peak of its arc. He stood from his chair, ignoring the clutter of his desk, and stepped towards his closet, rubbing the soreness from his neck, and steeling himself for the day ahead of him.

The rest of his room was free of mess. His bed was neatly made, his floor clear of debris, and his walls lined with abstract art and pictures of his life from over the years. A photo of him, Phoebe and Brenna, taken last year before Crestview had burned down, another of him and Abe in the Crystal Peak workshop. The one picture that his eyes avoided had been taken years ago, when he was still a child. His mother, his brother, and him, sat outside in Central Park, laughing. 
He did not like to think of those years, or what he would do to bring them back. He did not like to think about the rift that had grown between him and Dylan since that night, or his father, or the way in which his mother so closely resembled Jocasta. He did not like to think about any of it.[/color][/indent][/indent]