Quantum Tech would release the AI on Monday. That was going to be... interesting. Watching the world react to ARIA's public-facing version—dumbed down to like O.001% of her actual capability because we couldn't just drop a near-superintelligent AI on the market without causing, you know, complete societal collapse.
But even at 0.001%, she was going to change everything. The thought made my chest tight in that way excitement and terror feel identical.
The CIA meeting was around the corner. Ava Voss. Deputy Director. Resistance incarnate.
She'd been texting me—actual flirty shit I liked, the kind that made my brain short-circuit and she was sending me winky faces and complaining that I'd ruined other men for her.
Which, like... yeah. That was kinda the point. The suspense was killing her. The "will he, won't he" of when I'd finally make my move, when I'd finally cross that line that we'd been dancing on since the moment I made her come without fucking her.
