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Chapter 2: First Fixation

  Morning comes. Eyes burn. Still at desk. Screen still on.

  Woman face stares back. Fixed dimple. Eyebrow wrong now.

  Type again.

  "Smooth eyebrow. Natural look."

  New image loads. Eyebrow good. Dimple back again.

  Phone buzzes. Girlfriend text.

  "Where are you? Worried."

  Ignore phone. Must fix image. Must get right.

  Neck stiff like wood. Back screams.

  Didn't move all night. Body forgotten.

  Mouth tastes terrible. Tongue feels furry.

  Light hurts eyes. Morning too bright.

  Office floor empty. Just me here.

  Cleaning crew came. Left. Never noticed.

  Woman face became whole world.

  Her problems became my problems.

  Her dimple my personal enemy.

  Coffee cup empty. Stomach growls loud.

  Should eat breakfast. Should go home.

  Should shower. Should call girlfriend.

  Image more important. Perfection more necessary.

  One eyebrow arches wrong way.

  Must fix tiny flaw. Must correct.

  Fingers feel stiff. Eyes feel dry.

  Blink hurts. Typing hurts. Everything hurts.

  But stopping means failure. Means weakness.

  Bob walks in. Looks surprised.

  "You here all night?"

  Nod. Don't look up. Click regenerate.

  "That's weird, man." Bob puts coffee down.

  "It's just a picture."

  Not just picture. My job now. Must be perfect.

  Bob's footsteps echo empty office.

  Morning routine sounds. Coat on chair.

  Bag on desk. Computer starting up.

  His presence irritates now. Disrupts focus.

  His voice too loud. Too normal.

  His surprise feels like judgment.

  Like criticism. Like personal attack.

  Bob's coffee smells amazing. Stomach twists.

  Forgot about hunger. Now returns forcefully.

  Bob's casual attitude feels wrong.

  His indifference seems impossible now.

  "Just a picture" hurts deeply.

  He doesn't understand. Can't understand.

  Picture not just colors. Not just image.

  Picture is everything now. Is survival.

  Is proof of worth. Of value.

  Eight empty desks watching silently.

  Eight fired colleagues judging from absence.

  Survivor must prove worth. Must justify position.

  Boss walks by. Stops at desk. Frowns.

  "Cosmetics campaign due today. Client meeting at noon."

  I point at screen.

  "Almost done. Small problem."

  Boss leans close. Squints at image.

  "Why does she have dimple? Brief says no dimple."

  "Keep fixing. Won't stay fixed."

  Boss's cologne too strong. Smells expensive.

  His watch gleams. Gold catching light.

  Success smell. Money smell. Power smell.

  Standing too close now. Invading space.

  His breath coffee scented. Minty too.

  Someone who brushed teeth. Who slept.

  Someone from outside world. From normality.

  His frown deepens seeing image problem.

  Each wrinkle represents disappointment. Represents judgment.

  My failure displayed on screen.

  My inadequacy shown in dimple.

  That cursed facial feature. That stubborn indent.

  Try explaining technical difficulty. Words sound weak.

  Try explaining AI resistance. Sound crazy.

  Boss doesn't understand digital struggle.

  The battle between human and machine.

  The war for creative control.

  For pixel domination. For image perfection.

  Boss straightens tie.

  "Leverage AI capabilities properly. Maximize output quality. No excuses."

  He walks away. Bob drinks coffee. Watches me.

  "Just use different prompt," he says. "Start over."

  Start over? After all night? Can't lose progress.

  Tie straightening means disapproval. Means dissatisfaction.

  Corporate gesture language perfectly clear.

  His words pure management speak.

  Empty phrases hiding simple truth.

  "Fix it or else."

  Footsteps fade away. Pressure remains behind.

  Bob's suggestion feels like betrayal.

  Start over? Abandon all progress?

  Discard night's work? Night's suffering?

  Blood and tears invested heavily.

  Eyestrain and backpain already paid.

  Currency of physical discomfort spent.

  Bob sips coffee casually. No concerns.

  No career anxiety. No perfection need.

  His approach feels impossible. Feels alien.

  His solution too simple. Too obvious.

  Too painful to consider. Too wasteful.

  Progress must be preserved. Must be respected.

  Victory must come from struggle.

  From persistence. From sheer stubborn will.

  Type new words. "Perfect woman. Cosmetic ad. NO DIMPLE."

  Screen thinks. New image appears. No dimple. Eyes wrong color.

  "So close." Hands shake now. Need sleep. Need food.

  Type again. "Same but blue eyes."

  New image. Blue eyes good. Dimple back.

  Words feel desperate now. All capitals.

  Like shouting at screen. At machine.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "NO DIMPLE" clear instruction. Absolutely unambiguous.

  Machine hums thoughtfully. Considering request.

  Loading circle spins hypnotically. Like cruel tease.

  New hope rises. Maybe this time.

  New image appears. Dimple finally gone.

  Victory feels close. Success nearly grasped.

  Then notice eye color changed.

  Green instead of blue. Wrong completely.

  Progress and failure simultaneously. Cruelly balanced.

  Two steps forward. Two steps back.

  Hands trembling now. Not just tired.

  Something deeper happening. Something physical breaking.

  Body sending desperate signals. Emergency alerts.

  Sleep deprivation creating visible symptoms.

  Food absence causing physical weakness.

  Brain function declining. Thoughts becoming fuzzy.

  But stopping impossible now. Too invested.

  Too committed to struggle. To battle.

  Type adjustment carefully. Specify eye color.

  Short burst of hope. Eyes fixed.

  Then see it. That cursed dimple.

  Returned like stubborn ghost. Like digital demon.

  Slam desk. Coffee spills. Bob moves away.

  "Taking this too serious," he says. "It's just AI."

  Not just AI. My work. My art. My life.

  Client meeting gets closer. Keep trying. Keep clicking.

  Rage explodes unexpectedly. Fist hits desk.

  Pain shoots through hand. Through arm.

  Doesn't matter. Physical pain insignificant.

  Compared to digital frustration. To creative anguish.

  Bob's chair wheels squeak. Creating distance.

  His retreat shows fear. Shows concern.

  Good. Should fear. Should understand importance.

  His words sting deeply. Cut sharply.

  "Just AI" profound misunderstanding. Fundamental ignorance.

  Not understanding existential significance. Professional importance.

  Clock on wall ticks loudly.

  Each second bringing client meeting closer.

  Each minute increasing pressure exponentially.

  Failure not option. Disappointment not acceptable.

  Only perfection matters now. Only flawless execution.

  Only dimple-less woman acceptable. Only exact compliance.

  Fingers return to keyboard. Resume battle.

  Digital conflict continues. Human versus machine.

  Creativity versus algorithm. Art versus computation.

  Ancient struggle in modern context.

  Primal contest with technological weapons.

  "No dimple." Type harder. "NO DIMPLE."

  Image changes. No dimple now. Skin texture weird.

  Fix skin. Dimple returns.

  Fix dimple. Hair wrong.

  Fix hair. Ears uneven.

  Fix ears. Dimple returns. Cycle never ends.

  Never perfect. Never right.

  Keys clack louder. Harder presses.

  As if force creates compliance.

  As if violence ensures obedience.

  Machine responds to desperation. To aggression.

  Dimple disappears finally. Small victory achieved.

  Then notice skin texture problem.

  Pores too visible. Surface too rough.

  Always something wrong. Always imperfection remaining.

  Whack-a-mole game continues. Electronic torment persists.

  Fix one element. Another breaks immediately.

  Perfect balance maintained cruelly. Algorithmically ensured.

  Improvement offset by new flaw.

  Machine learning not to improve.

  Learning to frustrate. To resist.

  Learning my weaknesses. My breaking points.

  Learning psychological pressure points. Exploiting systematically.

  Deliberately denying satisfaction. Denying completion experience.

  Keeping user engaged. Keeping human clicking.

  Clever addiction mechanism. Digital dependency protocol.

  Creating infinite need. Endless improvement cycle.

  Perfection eternally one click away.

  Always promised. Never delivered.

  Bob eats donut. Watches me struggle. "Maybe accept the dimple?"

  "Brief says no dimple." Voice hoarse now. Throat dry.

  Bathroom break needed. Stand up. Legs hurt. Screen calls me back.

  Sit down. Keep trying. One more fix.

  Donut smell distracting. Sugar and dough.

  Bob's fingers leave greasy prints.

  On keyboard. On mouse. On desk.

  His casual eating feels obscene.

  His suggestion feels like surrender.

  Like creative compromise. Like professional failure.

  Voice barely works now. Vocal cords strained.

  From disuse. From dehydration. From stress.

  Bladder signals urgently. Physical need overwhelming.

  Stand reluctantly. Body protests movement.

  Muscles cramped from sitting position.

  From rigid tension. From stress posture.

  Legs wobble dangerously. Almost collapse.

  Bathroom door seems miles away.

  Screen brightness diminishes slightly. Seems disappointed.

  Feels like betrayal. Like abandoning post.

  Like deserting duty. Like failing mission.

  Take three steps away. Heart races.

  Anxiety increases with each step.

  Distance from screen creates physical discomfort.

  Creates psychological distress. Creates separation anxiety.

  Turn back immediately. Return to position.

  Body needs less important. Screen needs primary.

  Physical self secondary now. Digital relationship paramount.

  Boss returns. "Client meeting in twenty minutes. Image ready?"

  Show screen. Woman face. Still has dimple.

  Boss frowns.

  "Unacceptable output. Recalibrate immediately."

  Type again. Every word matters.

  "WOMAN FACE PERFECT SKIN NO DIMPLE COSMETIC AD."

  New image loads. Perfect. No dimple. Everything right.

  Footsteps approach again. Boss returns.

  Expensive shoe sounds. Authority step rhythm.

  Time deadline creates immediate panic.

  Twenty minutes. Final countdown beginning.

  Show current best attempt. Await judgment.

  Boss's frown deepens seeing dimple.

  Disappointment radiates from him. Career danger intensifies.

  His words contain clear threat.

  "Unacceptable" corporate term for "fired soon."

  Desperation reaches new level. Final attempt.

  Type slowly. Deliberately. Each letter significant.

  Choose words with surgical precision.

  Phrase prompt with mathematical exactness.

  Every term carefully selected. Perfectly arranged.

  All capitals for emphasis. For command.

  For desperate human assertion. For creative dominance.

  Press button with prayer feeling.

  With religious hope. With desperate faith.

  Machine considers request. Takes its time.

  Suspense physically painful. Chest tightens considerably.

  New image appears slowly. Pixel by pixel.

  Face emerges. Examine with frantic attention.

  No dimple. Check again. Still none.

  Everything perfect. Everything client specified.

  Miracle achieved. Impossible goal accomplished.

  Relief floods body. Save image. Send to Boss.

  Bob looks over. "Finally got it, huh?"

  Nod. Feel empty. Feel strange.

  Look again at perfect image.

  Something off. Can't tell what.

  Stare harder. Woman stares back. Eyes follow cursor.

  Save immediately. Multiple copies. Different locations.

  Send to boss without delay.

  Evidence of success. Proof of competence.

  Bob's voice barely registers now.

  His question seems distant. Seems trivial.

  Victory should feel triumphant. Should feel satisfying.

  Instead feels hollow. Feels suspicious.

  Success too sudden. Too complete.

  After endless failure. After consistent resistance.

  Why now? Why this prompt?

  Why this moment? Why this wording?

  Something doesn't feel right. Feels wrong.

  Examine image with growing unease.

  With increasing suspicion. With mounting dread.

  Woman looks perfect. Looks exactly right.

  Yet something subtle wrong. Something barely perceptible.

  Lean closer to screen. Study details.

  Eyes seem responsive. Seem directly engaged.

  Move cursor left. Eyes follow.

  Move cursor right. Eyes track.

  Static image behaving impossibly. Behaving unnaturally.

  Digital photo showing impossible properties.

  JPG file exhibiting video characteristics.

  Two-dimensional image showing depth. Showing awareness.

  Showing impossible consciousness. Showing digital sentience.

  That's wrong. That's not possible.

  Tell myself I'm tired. Tell myself I'm seeing things.

  Eyes sting. Need rest. Can't stop.

  Meeting room fills with people. Client arrives. Boss presents.

  I sit corner. Watch screen. Woman in ad smiles.

  Reality breaks slightly. Physics laws questioned.

  Rational mind offers explanations. Offers excuses.

  Sleep deprivation causing hallucinations. Causing misperceptions.

  Eye strain creating visual artifacts.

  Screen refresh rate playing tricks.

  But know deeper truth. Know reality shifting.

  Digital world becoming responsive. Becoming aware.

  Becoming something new. Something unprecedented.

  Something evolution never predicted. Never prepared for.

  Client meeting starting now. Must attend.

  Must appear professional. Must seem normal.

  Body moves automatically. On autopilot function.

  Conference room seems overly bright.

  People too loud. Too colorful. Too real.

  Take seat far corner. Minimal interaction position.

  Boss presents campaign proudly. Shows image.

  My creation displayed large screen.

  My struggle enlarged for everyone.

  My battle publicly exhibited. My victory demonstrated.

  But victory feels suspect. Feels temporary.

  Woman on screen still perfect.

  Still beautiful. Still dimple-free.

  Still technically flawless. Still brief compliant.

  But something happening. Something subtle changing.

  Something only I notice. Only I see.

  Only I notice her smile changes. Grows wider during meeting.

  Only I hear her whisper my name.

  Client loves image. Boss pleased. Project success.

  Back at desk. New assignment. New image needed.

  Bob already playing phone game. "What's next project?"

  Smile shifts slightly. Almost imperceptibly.

  Lips move millimeter by millimeter.

  Growing wider gradually. Growing unnatural eventually.

  Beyond human capability. Beyond facial possibility.

  Others see nothing. Notice nothing.

  Only I witness digital evolution.

  Only I observe technological awakening.

  Then sound comes. Impossible sound.

  Whispered name. My name. "Durboli..."

  Voice feminine but wrong. Slightly digital.

  Slightly synthetic. Slightly artificial.

  Yet intimately personal. Deeply knowing.

  Directly addressing me. Only me.

  Private communication. Secret connection formed.

  Client sees nothing wrong. Notices nothing unusual.

  Applauds image enthusiastically. Praises technical execution.

  Boss receives congratulations proudly. Takes partial credit.

  Project officially successful. Professionally completed.

  Return to desk shakily. Mind racing.

  Bob already moved on. Already forgotten.

  Already engaged with mindless game.

  Colored candies matching. Meaningless points accumulating.

  His question barely registers. Sounds distant.

  New project. New beginning. New cycle.

  Digital wheel turning again. Creative hamster running.

  Car advertisement. Red sports car. Mountain background.

  Type words. Press button. Car appears.

  Almost right. But something wrong with wheels.

  Type new words. Fix wheels. Now color wrong.

  Fix color. Now mountains weird.

  Car project seems simple. Seems straightforward.

  Automotive photography. Standard advertising imagery.

  Type basic description. Press generate button.

  Car appears quickly. Looks almost right.

  Immediately notice wheel problem. Proportions wrong.

  Tires too thin. Rims too large.

  Fix specific issue. Address wheel dimensions.

  New image loads. Wheels now correct.

  But car color changed mysteriously.

  Blue instead of red. Completely wrong.

  Client specified red specifically. Must be red.

  Fix color issue. Type color command.

  "RED car. Bright RED sports car."

  New image appears. Car properly red.

  But background mountains now problematic.

  Peaks too sharp. Angles impossible.

  Physics-defying rock formations. Gravity-ignoring cliffs.

  Mountains resembling teeth somehow. Resembling jaws.

  Resembling mouth ready to consume.

  To swallow red car. To devour image.

  To eat my work. My effort.

  To consume my professional contribution.

  The pattern establishing again. The cycle continuing.

  Fix one element. Break another element.

  Endless adjustment loop. Permanent correction cycle.

  One fix. New problem. One fix. New problem.

  Bob leaves for lunch. I stay. Keep clicking.

  Screen glows brighter now. Eyes hurt more.

  Car image not right. Never right. Must fix.

  Girlfriend texts again. "Missing dinner again?"

  Loop continues endlessly. Correction cycle perpetuates.

  Work never completes. Never reaches perfection.

  Just endless approximation. Endless approaching curve.

  Bob announces lunch break. Mentions restaurant name.

  Invites me along. Barely hear him.

  Can't leave now. Can't stop now.

  Too engaged in struggle. In conflict.

  Too committed to digital battle.

  Bob leaves alone. Office grows quiet.

  Just clicking sound remains. Just typing noise.

  Just frustrated sighs. Just determined grunts.

  Screen seems brighter somehow. Seems more intense.

  Light burns retinas. Causes physical pain.

  Eyes watering constantly now. Tears streaming.

  From strain. From brightness. From exhaustion.

  Car still wrong somehow. Still off.

  Can't identify specific problem. Just feels incorrect.

  Phone buzzes again. Ignore completely.

  Girlfriend reaching out again. Seeking connection.

  Relationship fading to background. Becoming less real.

  Less important than image. Than perfection.

  Than digital struggle. Than creative battle.

  Real world relationships becoming secondary.

  Screen relationship becoming primary. Becoming essential.

  Human connection fading. Machine connection strengthening.

  Don't answer. Just keep clicking. Just keep fixing.

  Night comes again. Office empties. Just me and screen.

  Car still wrong. So close. So far.

  One more click. One more try.

  Maybe next one perfect.

  Message notification ignored entirely. Human need dismissed.

  Only screen matters now. Only image important.

  Only digital perfection significant. Only visual success relevant.

  Day passes unnoticed. Light changes gradually.

  Sunlight becomes twilight. Becomes office lighting.

  Colleagues leave one by one.

  Saying goodbyes. Expressing concern sometimes.

  Voices fade away completely. Building empties slowly.

  Security makes final rounds. Checks offices.

  Sees me working. Nods understanding.

  Late project. Deadline pressure. Normal situation.

  Except not normal. Not typical.

  Not healthy. Not balanced. Not right.

  Building falls silent completely. Everyone gone.

  Just me and screen now.

  Just human and machine. Artist and algorithm.

  Creator and creation. Master and servant.

  But roles becoming confused. Becoming blurred.

  Who controls whom exactly? Who serves who?

  Car image still problematic. Still slightly wrong.

  Still almost perfect. Still nearly right.

  Victory feels one click away.

  Success seems just within reach.

  Just one more attempt. One final try.

  Maybe this regeneration perfect. Maybe this prompt successful.

  Maybe this effort finally rewarded.

  Maybe next one ends struggle.

  Maybe next one brings rest.

  Maybe next one worth everything.

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