Jake had just deleted the last cache of neural game memory when the basement door was flung open. He feared the worst, and was mightily relieved when his wife descended the stairs.

 

“Jake! You’re home early. What are you doing?” asked Marsha.

 

“Hi babe. Nothing.” he replied.

 

Aside from his defensive posture giving the game away, in the seven years they had been married Jake had never been able to tell one convincing lie. He wasn’t about to start.

 

“I need to tell you something.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Marsh, I’m pretty sure we’ve been fingered by the IRS for a total audit, and it’s my fault.”

 

“What!”

 

The term “total audit” was laden with foreboding. The Internal Resource Service policed citizens’ productivity. In a world wracked by climate change and a clutch of other global calamities, resources of every kind were scarce and a citizen’s worth was based on his or her productivity. Pursuing non-productive activities, called time waste crimes, was illegal.

 

“They found out I’ve been gaming.”

 

“Oh, Jake!”

 

“I know, I know,” he lamented.

 

Online gaming had been banned since algorithms rendered human competition redundant.

 

“I was up for an award too,” he added, glancing miserably at the computer consul. Jake told her he had wiped almost all the games he’d played over the last three years. “The IRS probably has the data anyway, but I’m hoping they’ll go easy since this is my first offence and it’s only a level-three time waste.”

 

He went to hug her but she backed away. “I’m really sorry, babe. This is my mess and I’ll clean it up, I promise,” assured Jake.

 

“How do you know about the audit?”

 

“A buddy in the underground gaming network is a tech wiz and detected an IRS snoop. They’ve already started closing nodes in the network. He reckons they’ll come after to me soon,” he said. “Marsh, start divorce proceedings as soon as this shit breaks. That’ll shield you.”

 

They both knew that although Jake’s plan was a genuine attempt to carry the can, divorce was already on the cards since their marriage had been on life support for a while.

 

“Are we on the same page, Marsh?”

 

She burst into tears. He went to comfort her.

 

“You’ll be alright, babe, I promise.”

 

“No, Jake, I won’t be,” she said, wiping away tears.

 

“I’ll be the one with the record, not you.”

 

“That’s not the point,” she yelled.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Jake, I wrote a book!”

 

“You did what!”

 

“It’s almost finished.”

 

“Marsh, that’s a first-level time waste!”

 

“I’m aware.”

 

Since AI algorithms write all books in close alignment with market demand, human book-writing was forbidden.

 

“At least tell me it’s non-fiction,” he implored.

 

“Science fiction.”

 

“Shit, Marsh! They’ll throw the book at you. No pun intended. Delete it, babe, right now, please.”

 

“If they do a full audit they’ll find it anyway, Jake,” she moaned. “And I’m not giving those fuckers two years of my life.”

 

“If they nail you, you’ll have to do free time, Marsh.”

 

People convicted of the most serious time waste crimes had to serve free time, which meant they lived on subsistence allowances and were forced to do any work required of them. It was legalized enslavement.

 

Marsha took a deep breath and calmed herself.

 

“Alright. First, you will denounce and divorce me when they start the audit. They might add a bit to your level-three sentence but you’ll be okay.”

 

“Marsh …”

 

“You have no choice, Jake!”

 

He knew she was right.

 

“Second. I’m leaving”

 

“What? Where are you going?”

 

“Off-grid. You’re not the only one in touch with an underground organization.”

 

Marsha told him she had been thinking about joining one of the remote, off-grid communities that had sprung up over recent years, and had already made arrangements. At first Jake was shocked, but given the state of their marriage and revelations about his wife, he realized it wasn’t so outlandish.

 

“I need to move fast, Jake,” she said. “This has to be goodbye.”

 

They embraced with an intensity they hadn’t felt in years.

 

“I’d love to read your book,” he said.

 

“And give them an excuse to lengthen your sentence?”

 

“It’d be worth it.”

 

“I’ll put that on the cover with the other glowing critiques.”

 

They laughed.

 

“I always knew you were the creative type. That’s one reason I fell in love with you, Marsh.”

 

“And I fell for a pig-headed rebel who wouldn’t let a bunch of damn AIs keep him from doing what he loves.”

 

“Some pair!” he grinned.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They kissed again.

 

“So long, Jake. Don’t change, darling.”

 

Marsha peeled away from him.

 

“Has this off-grid colony of yours got room for a fugitive gamer?”

 

“Jake, this isn’t a game, this is real.”

 

“C’mon, Marsh, give me some credit,” he retorted. “Look, if you prefer me not to go with you, I totally understand.”

 

“I don’t mean that, I mean this may be the craziest thing I’ve ever done, Jake. I’m trying not to overthink it.”

 

“I hear you. But with you gone and my gaming gig kaput not to mention the little matter of have a criminal record, I’m pretty much a rebel without a cause.”

 

“Off-grid life is pretty rough.”

 

“I’ll manage. Anyway, us going on the run could be the start of your next blockbuster novel!”

 

They laughed again.

 

“C’mon, let’s go Marsh,” he said, and took her hand.