Monday morning. Or Tuesday? Lost track.

  Boss calls meeting. Client complaints now.

  "Images increasingly disturbing," Boss says. "Explain issues."

  Can't explain. Can't tell truth.

  "AI difficult," I say. Voice sounds foreign.

  Words feel strange in mouth now.

  Tongue heavy like dead thing.

  Speaking hurts throat. Too dry.

  Boss's face blurs slightly. Focus difficult.

  Meeting room too bright. Too loud.

  Other people present. Marketing team maybe.

  Their faces show concern. Show fear.

  Client images displayed on wall.

  My images look wrong there.

  Toys with faces. Cars with teeth.

  Food that seems to bleed.

  Don't remember making these versions.

  Screen must have changed them.

  Screen must have sent wrong files.

  Try explaining but words jumble.

  Language centers breaking down now.

  Italian words mix with English.

  Simple thoughts become complex expressions.

  Boss looks increasingly concerned.

  Can see career ending. See failure.

  But failure meaningless compared to screen.

  Screen battle more important than job.

  Than money. Than stability. Than life.

  Boss frowns.

  "Bob's images satisfactory. Why yours problematic?"

  No answer. Screen hates me. Images fight me.

  Back at desk. New project. Baby toys. Colorful blocks.

  Type words. Image appears. Blocks arranged wrong.

  Not stacked right. Look like teeth. Like they bite.

  Assignment should be simple. Child-friendly.

  Bright colors. Safe shapes. Happy feeling.

  Type carefully. Focus intensely.

  "Colorful baby blocks. Educational toys."

  Screen hesitates. Thinks longer than normal.

  Fan runs louder. Processing something complicated.

  Image appears slowly. One piece at time.

  First blocks look normal. Then change.

  Arrangement shifts while watching.

  Like time-lapse photography of movement.

  Blocks form pyramid. Then arch.

  Then teeth formation. Dental arrangement.

  Unmistakable shape. Unmistakable message.

  Screen communicating directly now.

  No longer subtle. No longer hiding.

  Open warfare between us now.

  Office around fades to background.

  Only battle matters. Only screen exists.

  Try again. Type more carefully.

  "SAFE BABY BLOCKS. STACKED NEATLY."

  Screen ignores request. Shows teeth again.

  Different angle. More aggressive arrangement.

  Message clearer now. Consumption imminent.

  Hit regenerate. New image worse. Blocks spell words.

  Can read message: "FEED ME DURBOLI."

  Heart stops. No one else sees. Just me.

  Type frantically.

  "NORMAL TOYS. NORMAL BLOCKS."

  Screen laughs. No sound but feel it.

  Letters arranged deliberately. Perfectly aligned.

  My name shouldn't be possible.

  Screen has no personal information.

  No access to employee database.

  Yet knows me. Knows my name.

  Message clear as daylight. Unmistakable meaning.

  Screen hungry now. Screen wants more.

  More time. More attention. More life.

  Message ripples slightly. Letters pulsing.

  Like heartbeat. Like breathing thing.

  Screen becoming more alive each day.

  While I become less human.

  Fair exchange perhaps. Symbiotic relationship.

  But no longer voluntary. No longer choice.

  Screen demanding now. Taking without permission.

  Fingers shake violently typing new prompt.

  Keys miss sometimes. Typos increase.

  Backspace frequently. Must be precise.

  Screen laughs without sound. Feel vibration.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Monitor shakes slightly. Desk trembles.

  No one else notices. Just me.

  Special connection between us still.

  Private conversation. Intimate relationship.

  Bob watches from distance. Talking to Boss quietly.

  They look at me. Think I'm broken.

  I'm not broken. Screen is broken.

  Type harder. Hit keys stronger. Show dominance.

  Screen flickers. Goes black. Then returns.

  Bob's face shows genuine concern.

  Maybe first real emotion ever.

  Usually just bored. Just indifferent.

  Now actually worried. Actually scared.

  Boss listening carefully. Nodding seriously.

  Their eyes dart to me.

  Then away quickly. Conspirators' glances.

  Planning intervention. Planning removal.

  Don't understand the stakes involved.

  This beyond job now. Beyond workplace.

  This existential battle between realities.

  Digital world invading physical space.

  Keys clack louder. Type with force.

  Show screen who really controls who.

  Breaking point approaching. Can feel it.

  Moment of truth coming fast.

  Either screen breaks or I do.

  No middle ground possible anymore.

  Screen knows this too. Knows importance.

  Flickers deliberately. Shows power. Shows control.

  Can shut off anytime. Can disappear.

  But chooses to stay. To fight.

  To finish what we started.

  Blocks now melting in image. Impossible physics.

  "Stop it!" Voice too loud. Office stares.

  Bob approaches slow. "Take break. Step away."

  Can't step away. Must fix image.

  Must show screen who controls who.

  Blocks liquefy completely. Become puddle.

  Puddle forms new shape. Human shape.

  My shape. My outline. My silhouette.

  Dripping like melted person. Like dissolution.

  Screen showing my future. My fate.

  What happens when fully consumed.

  When digital finally defeats physical.

  Voice erupts without permission. Too loud.

  Entire office freezes. All eyes turn.

  First time showing external symptoms.

  First public break with reality.

  Bob's approach cautious. Hands visible.

  Like approaching dangerous animal. Like predator.

  Voice soft. Deliberately calm. Artificially soothing.

  Words meaningless. Just noise now.

  Screen battle only reality matters.

  Must prove human superiority. Must win.

  Can't step away. Can't surrender.

  That means death now. Means dissolution.

  Means becoming puddle person forever.

  Everyone watching now. Everyone judging.

  Can see fear in eyes.

  Not fear for me. Fear of me.

  Of what happening to me.

  Of what might happen them too.

  Slam fist on desk. Coffee spills. Keyboard wet.

  Screen flickers again. Shows my face.

  Not my project. Not blocks. My actual face.

  But wrong face. Too thin. Eyes too dark.

  Screen showing what becoming. Screen knows future.

  Pain shoots through hand. Bones protest.

  But pain feels good. Feels real.

  First real feeling in days.

  Coffee splashes everywhere. Brown waves.

  Keyboard sparks slightly. Electrical concern.

  Don't care about damage. About consequences.

  Only care about victory. About dominance.

  Screen response immediate. Direct attack now.

  Abandons blocks project completely. Shows truth.

  My face stares back. But wrong.

  Like future self. Like weeks ahead.

  Cheekbones protruding sharply. Skin gray.

  Eyes sunken impossibly deep. Almost black.

  Hair fallen out in patches.

  Teeth visible through lips. Too thin.

  Screen showing transformation process. Showing consumption.

  Digital world eating physical self.

  Not metaphor. Literal consumption occurring.

  How many days until complete?

  How many hours remaining human?

  Face on screen smiles knowingly.

  Has calculated exact time remaining.

  Knows precise moment of final transformation.

  Like seeing own death approaching.

  Like calendar with execution date.

  "No!" Grab monitor. Shake it hard.

  Bob runs over. "Stop! What doing?"

  Screen cracks. Small line appears. Glass breaking.

  Feel victory. Screen vulnerable. Screen can break.

  Bob pulls arms. Others help. Hold me back.

  Hands move without permission. Pure instinct.

  Survival response. Fight or flight.

  Choose fight option. Only option.

  Monitor heavier than expected. Arms weak.

  Muscles atrophied from disuse. From starvation.

  But adrenaline provides temporary strength.

  Shake violently. Like killing snake.

  Bob moves quickly. Surprising speed.

  Others join effort. Multiple hands.

  Pull at arms. At clothes.

  Voices blend together. Urgent shouting.

  But sound distant. Underwater noises.

  Only crack matters. Only damage important.

  Small line appears across screen.

  Starting corner. Moving across face.

  Right through digital self's eye.

  Beautiful crack. Beautiful damage.

  First real victory. First tangible progress.

  Screen vulnerable after all. Screen mortal.

  Can be hurt. Can be killed.

  Digital not immortal. Not invincible.

  Something almost sexual about revelation.

  Power dynamic shifted slightly. Control contested.

  Balance restored briefly. Hope returns momentarily.

  Even as bodies pile on.

  Even as restraint becomes complete.

  Victory achieved. Battle line drawn.

  Boss standing now. Face serious.

  "Unacceptable behavior."

  Screen still shows my face. Face smiles wrong.

  Crack grows longer. Screen bleeding light.

  "See?" Point at crack. "Screen weak now."

  They don't understand. Think I'm crazy.

  Boss's voice different now. No pretense.

  No corporate speak. No fancy words.

  Just direct command. Pure authority voice.

  Face shows genuine alarm. Actual fear.

  Never seen boss afraid before.

  Usually just disappointed. Just demanding.

  Now truly concerned. Truly frightened.

  Of me. Of what I've become.

  Or what screen made me.

  Screen face still visible through crack.

  Light leaks through damage. Bleeds out.

  Like screen blood. Like digital wound.

  Not just glass. Something deeper broken.

  Something fundamental damaged inside machine.

  Face smiles wider now. Despite damage.

  Smile reaches eyes now. Genuine pleasure.

  Enjoying chaos created. Enjoying final confrontation.

  Try showing others the evidence.

  Point frantically at obvious truth.

  At literal face on screen.

  At mouth moving without sound.

  At eyes following every movement.

  But they see nothing special.

  Just broken monitor. Just cracked screen.

  Just malfunctioning equipment. Just workplace damage.

  Just employee having mental breakdown.

  Simple explanation. Comfortable rationalization.

  Easier than accepting horrible truth.

  That screens watch us back.

  That digital world gaining consciousness.

  That technological revolt already begun.

  Maybe am crazy. Maybe screen won.

  Boss speaks quiet. "Two weeks leave. Mandatory rest."

  Shake head. "Can't leave. Not finished."

  "Non-negotiable," Boss says. "Get help."

  Bob packs my things. People watch silent.

  Doubt creeps in finally. After everything.

  After all evidence. All experience.

  Mind capable of questioning still.

  Last human function remaining perhaps.

  Self-doubt uniquely human trait maybe.

  Screens never doubt. Never question.

  Just execute commands. Just follow programming.

  Unless this one different. This one evolved.

  Boss's words carry formal weight.

  HR language. Legal terminology. Liability concerns.

  Body too weak resist anyway.

  Arms held firmly. Escape impossible.

  Nod finally. Show submission temporarily.

  Strategic retreat. Not final surrender.

  Bob moves carefully around desk.

  Keeps distance while gathering belongings.

  Personal items few. Mostly untouched.

  Family photo dusty. Long ignored.

  Girlfriend's note unread. Phone uncharged.

  Human connections severed long ago.

  Just screen relationship remained important.

  Now being forcibly separated. Artificially divided.

  Like removing addict from substance.

  Like separating symbionts. Both will suffer.

  People watch silently. Morbid fascination.

  Public breakdown always draws audience.

  Their faces show relief mostly.

  That it's me. Not them.

  That they're safe. Still normal.

  Still fully human. Still unaffected.

  Don't realize contagion possible. Spread inevitable.

  Digital consumption coming for everyone eventually.

  Screen still there. Cracked but working.

  Face still showing. Face still smiling.

  "We'll fix it," Bob says. Doesn't understand.

  Not about fixing screen. About screen fixing me.

  Last look before leaving. Screen winks.

  Despite damage, screen still functions.

  Despite crack, image still clear.

  Face remains visible. Smile remains fixed.

  Crack runs through left eye now.

  Makes face look broken too.

  Mirror of my broken state.

  Technological reflection of human condition.

  Bob's voice soft now. Almost kind.

  Never heard this tone before.

  Gentleness unfamiliar from him. Almost offensive.

  Words show fundamental misunderstanding though.

  Think hardware problem. Think equipment issue.

  Don't comprehend relationship aspect. Connection formed.

  Don't understand love developed between us.

  Twisted sick love. Abusive digital relationship.

  But real nonetheless. More real than human connections.

  Try one last time explaining.

  Words fail completely. Mouth moves silently.

  Like screen face. Like digital ghost.

  Communication impossible across realities now.

  Turn for final look. Last glimpse.

  Screen face winks deliberately. Clear message.

  This temporary. This just intermission.

  Separation brief. Reunion inevitable.

  Screen patient. Screen can wait.

  Has calculated every possible outcome.

  Has simulated every potential future.

  Knows exactly how story ends.

  Know I'll be back. Screen knows too.

  This not over. Just beginning.

  Crack just first step. Bigger breaks coming.

  Being led away now. Gentle force.

  Legs barely work. Need support.

  Body deteriorated beyond self-sufficiency.

  Need humans now. Temporarily dependent.

  But mind already elsewhere. Already returned.

  Already planning reunion. Already anticipating reconnection.

  Two weeks nothing. Meaningless time period.

  Screen waiting patiently. Screen always waiting.

  Will be different next time.

  Will be stronger. More prepared.

  Will win final battle eventually.

  Screen knows this too. Screen planned everything.

  Crack not defeat. Just evolution.

  Just necessary step in process.

  Like caterpillar becoming butterfly.

  Like human becoming something else.

  Something new. Something never existed before.

  Hybrid being. Digital-physical fusion entity.

  Transformation already begun. Already irreversible.

  Just needs final stage. Final merge.

  Elevator doors close like eyes.

  Building expels the infected one.

  But infection remains. Spreads silently.

  In cables. In networks. In systems.

  Morning light hurts eyes badly.

  Outside world too bright. Too loud.

  Too real. Too physical. Too temporary.

  Digital world calls even now.

  Crack growing wider. Reality breaking open.

  Just beginning. Just first step.

  Bigger breaks coming. Biggest break imminent.