by Novo Dé
And without warning, I find myself at a moment of panic.
My heart races. My teeth grit. I can hear my breaths frantically go in, out. I’m not sure what to do, so I stop thinking, and just act.
Finding Juliet’s nail file, I begin to dig. Gotta get that thing outta my fuckin’ head. My eyelids shut hard as I feel the metal cutting through the skin. The pain, intense now. I can feel blood oozing from the gash as I sweep across. More pain. But I can’t stop now.
So I press on, and on, until I can’t take anymore. Soon after, my hand finds its way to my temple again, almost instantly, and the pain deteriorates.
In time, I gather the strength to slowly open my eyes once more.
Nothing but blur at first. It’s the tears from the pain. My eyelids however keep moving, parting ever so slowly. The blur luckily fades and I begin to see again. Clarity lingers in and a picture begins to develop. But I see no dot, no speck.
Only crimson.
I try to wipe away the blood as best I can. My temple sizzles with sharp pains with each pass, but I keep going. At first it seems like I did away with the dot, but as I continue to clean the blood away, the darkness of the area becomes…larger.
Larger and larger.
My mouth hangs open in awe as I stare at myself in the mirror. I come in close again and gaze upon this new darkness, now having the diameter of what might be about the size of a quarter. I gaze until I realize that there’s more to this, more to be found. This time however I feel that the skin surrounding it has become…soft. Like it’s been sitting in water.
Makes no sense.
I try my nail again – the skin peels away like nothing this time around. I can even pick whole sections between my fingers and peel away as if it were the skin of an onion.
The skin strangely peels away inward, creating the most subtle of craters.
Investigating, I find something, something inside the darkness. Whatever it is, it’s sharp, angular, and feels like something of old, a texture I know, but a texture I haven’t felt in quite some time.
I make enough room in the crater through the shards of skin to get my fingertips in, just barely at first.
Now deep.
And now deeper, pushing away additional skin, until I find myself having just enough room to slightly grasp onto this angular entity. I’m not sure what to do next, so instinctually, I begin to pull. Whatever it is, I gotta get it outta my head. I use my other hand as leverage, which covers my visibility to the events unfolding in the mirror.
All I have is feeling now.
And whatever it is, I can feel it, I can feel it slowly loosen. So I begin to ring, back and forth, back and forth, feeling each of the microscopic oscillations against the tissues within. Nevertheless, I keep pulling. I can feel it move now, really move. I make another audible ‘ahh’ as I feel the entity grating against my skull as I slowly bring it forward. I pull and I pull, until there is no more pull to be had, no available room to bring it any more forward, like the end-feel of a joint, of a bone. Any additional motion stopped. Dead-end.
As I bring my hands away from my temple and gaze upon my discovery, I’m immediately caught with a moment of speechlessness as I study the angular entity, now protruding out, about two inches away from the skin of my scalp, the outgrowth observably curved, pointed, and sharp.
An immediate moment of denial with the experience soon follows.
‘This can’t be real,’ I say in my inner mind’s monologue.
Now with the sense of sight at my disposal, I touch the angular entity again, in hopes of any kind answer to this moment. I touch and grasp and feel, all while just glaring at it in the mirror, and it hits me. I know this texture – rough and course and unique – like the skin of a reptile.
And then I just stare. And stare.
Finally, finally, I realize I know what this is. But I can’t conjure the courage to say it out loud.
But I must.
Pausing, I close my eyes, and as I’m about to utter the words, my attention is suddenly countered by a large crash near the front of the house. I quickly turn my head to the bathroom door to analyze. Within seconds I realize it was just the front door crashing shut, hard, which means, Juliet’s home.
My mind quickly shifts back to the reality of the situation – I can’t let her see me like this. So I turn back to the mirror to figure out my next step, but when I look back, I’m threatened with a new reality.
I see nothing.
No entity. No darkness. No blood. No dot. No speck. Just my forehead, my scalp, my skin, like it’s always been. My fingers quickly sweep over my temple, my skin, but I feel nothing.
No pain. No change. Nothing.
Doesn’t make any sense.
I look around the room frantically to find a clue that this was real. Something, anything. But there’s no trace, no evidence of what just occurred. Not even a speck of blood or flesh to be found. The room clean, spot-less. Nothing’s thrown about. All the toiletries found in their respective places – Everything’s in its right place. I, I…
But it was so real. Everything, was just, just...so real.
Then it hits me, and a new realization sets in.
Anonymous.
It was Anonymous this whole time, playing it’s tricks on me.
I hadn’t completely come down yet.
I breathe deep. And then come to. Come to the actual realization of my experience. My eyes swell with tears.
I’m fuckin’ losin’ it. That’s what’s really going on here. I’m fuckin’ losin’ it.
I drift into deep thought but thinking about it only makes it worse; can’t seem to part with the thoughts however.
What I need is, is, a distraction.
Luckily, my wife gives me all the distraction I would ever need.
At first, what appears to be clusters of sounds coming from the living room, soon turns into audible words being spoken upon closer listening, closer inspection. It’s Juliet. I creep closer and press my ear against the door. Sounds like she’s talking to someone, her sentences, heavy. But I know she’s alone in the room. CHARLIE would have prompted me on my phone otherwise. So…is she just talking to herself in there? Could be.
I venture in a little closer. And then I hear it. At first it just sounds like another set of sound clusters, countering my wife’s as she ends her sentences, sometimes monologues. Someone is definitely talking back to her. Probably just Juliet utilizing CHARLIE for a call.
But the voice, it’s so hard to make out. So I concentrate. And then realize where the difficulty lies – the voice is soft and at a higher pitch than a normal adult’s.
I creep in closer, into the edge of the living room now, and see that she’s indeed alone, and no person to be found on the wall display.
And then it hits me – Jesus fucking Christ – She’s at it again…
At it again. Another fucking episode. But it’s been so long. I don’t even remember the last time she…Why does she keep doing this?
Fuck, I know why, so I listen in.
The conversations have their nuances, but they’re always the same:
“…ow was your day at school today honey?”
“During, um, first period, I saw the biggest turtle I’ve ever seen,” a young girl replies. “Even got to hold it!”
“Oh yeah? Tell me about it…” Juliet says back.
“Well, Keith, you know Keith, he sits next to me in class, well, um, his mom, lettem bring his pet turtle to class, to do this report thing about it. And he even said it was really big, but I didn’t believe him, but then, it was his turn, and when he took it out, of this, like, shoe-box thing, it was like this big.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah and his name is Tolly, Tolly the turtle, and it’s prolly like one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Then, Mrs. Collins had us, like, get in a line, and we took turns touching it, or we could touch it and then hold it – I got to hold it. It felt weird. It was much heavier than I thought. But it
was so cool. I definitely wanted to take it home with me Mom.”
And there it is, the word, ‘Mom.’
“That’s so great,” Juliet says back, smiling, gently biting her lower lip. A sense of pride in her eyes.
“So can we get one?” The young girl quickly chimes back.
“I don’t know honey. I’ll run it by Dad. We’ll see,” Juliet responds, pausing. “So what else happened today? Learn anything new?”
“We did some math game in the middle of the day. I didn’t think it was very fun. I hate math.”
“Well give it some time.”
“I like English. I’m good at ‘English.’”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. We had a vocabulary test today too. And I aced it. Only missed one. It was broccoli. I missed broccoli.”
“Tastes bad and hard to spell huh?” Juliet says with a light chuckle.
“Yeah. And then we finished another chapter in our class book.”
“Which one is that again?”
“This old book, called ‘Indian and the Cupboard.’ We follow along on our screens as the teacher reads it aloud. I heard it’s this old movie too. Can we watch it sometime?”
“Well – I’ll make you a deal – you finish the book with the rest of the class, and then yeah, we’ll stream it for one of our Friday night movie nights, ok?”
“Ok mom. I love yo…”
And it goes on and on like this. On and on. This dream of hers. Sometimes for hours. Until Juliet has to be pulled away, back to reality, back to me, back to this empty house.
So you see there is no girl – only CHARLIE – she must have changed the profile sometime during my Anonymous trip. Can’t seem to remember anything anymore.
It’s her only drug.
Programmed to fulfill a dream, Juliet’s only dream – the child she always wanted, but never had, the life she always wanted, but never had, and never will have.
Her own Anonymous. She’s a slave to all those zeros and ones you see. When it first started, I knew it was going to be the beginning of something. The beginning of the end maybe. To what, I don’t know. Just had that feeling. Doesn’t matter. Can’t do anything about it now. Only she can.
She must say the same thing about me.
And you see it, you can see it, definitely see it in her face, written in her eyes. The peace she’s found in the lie. I see it because I know it, because I’ve experienced the same thing. But it’s still a lie. And it’ll never be real.
Juliet however is in full control of her lie. For starters, she never the lets the A.I. grow too old. As soon as it becomes, something analogous to a teenager, independent, when it doesn’t need ‘mommy’ anymore, Juliet cuts it at the neck. Deletes the profile and starts over.
So she can have a brand new baby whenever she wants.
Nevertheless, she does this so she can play out an endless stream of feeling wanted, being wanted, at all times, amongst other things of course. But most importantly, so she can have the single most special thing only a child can give to a parent – a sense of unconditional love.
A priceless feeling really. And with CHARLIE, she can have the closest thing, the simulation. But to her, it’s real. It’s really real.
And who’s to say what the difference is really? Our neurological makeup would process it the same, with the same events, if it was a real child standing there. The same neurotransmitters would flush in, out. There’d be the same reactions, same feelings. So who’s to say it isn’t real?
As I watch on, I sometimes find myself closing my eyes, and realizing, I wouldn’t even know the difference if I hadn’t already known beforehand.
I however usually take on the responsibility of breaking the dream.
So I walk into the room.
“What name did you give her this time?” I say from behind as I approach.
Juliet whips her head around towards me, her mouth slightly open, eyes, pondering. She continues to stare, but with a series of blinks, manages to cancel the session with CHARLIE. A long pause ensues.
“Hannah…Our...I mean, the little girl, she...” She pauses again, still finding her way back to reality. “I didn’t even know you were home…how long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
“I just…I just…needed to, ah, I just wanted to, to hear…” and Juliet trails off to silence, turning to stare at the floor.
“Y’know I thought, thought, it’s been so long, so long since you, thought maybe you were done with it all. I don’t even know why you do this anymore; I can’t understand why you keep, going back to these old…”
And Juliet begins shaking her head, followed by a light, little laugh, and then looks up.
“You’re such an asshole, y’know that?” she says through the laugh, her eyes glaring. “You are one to talk. How can you even say that?”
“I, ah, I know, I get it, I can see how that comes off, but this is different, and that is definitely different, but this, this is, this is just…”
“How is it any fucking different Tybalt? You tell me, you tell me right now how it’s different.”
“Well, it’s ah, it’s ah…umm….umm…ah…” I stop and look off.
“Y’see there. You can’t even get it out. Ya can’t get it out because there is no answer Tybalt, because the truth is, there is no difference, and you fuckin’ know it.”
Juliet begins to tear up a little. Her breaths heavy, audible.
“Look, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re being attacked here. I just wanted to talk is all.”
“Talk? You wanted to talk. We never talk Tybalt. Never. We—”
“I’m really not here to pick a fight Juliet.”
“Well maybe we needa fight. I mean, how’d you think I’d respond? Do you ever think before you act? Before you do anything? And then you start with all that shit after spying on me, and say you just wanna talk. Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”
She’s angry.
“Alright alright. Calm down, calm down,” I say, a go-to male rebuttal.
“You calm down,” she sarcastically quips.
“Just—How long? How long have you been at it again?”
“How long have you?” she counters, almost immediately, a sharpness to her tone, and we both grow silent, and stare.
She knows.
“I ah, I…” I’m stumbling over my words, trying to ignore her last remark. “Fuck, I said I didn’t want to fight.”
“Yeah I heard ya. You were the one wanting to ‘talk’ right? I was the one wanting the fight remember?” Her anger growing stronger, her breaths, heavier. “God. How would anyone want to talk to you right now? I mean, how do people even talk to you to begin with? I sometimes don’t even know how I do it, how I’ve done it for so long. I, I...” And she groans and looks off.
She’s having a hard time even looking at me now.
“At least I fuckin’ try Juliet. At least I try to talk. Try to have a real human connection, a normal human connection from time to time. You don’t even try; You’re knee deep in that fuckin’ NCL all day.”
Now that one brings her back. Well, she said she wanted a fight. So let’s fight.
She shakes her head at me again, smirks, and then gives another short laugh through her nose.
“Now you’re bringin’ that up. NCLs. Jesus Tybalt. Y’know, nothin’ has to change. Maybe if you tried it, these days, you’d see that people can have and still have real human connections, normal human connections. And it’s all right here. You can start with me,” she says, tapping at her temple.
“Fuck. It’s not real Juliet. That world. It’s only made things worse. Why can’t you see that?”
And she just looks at me, silently judging, grimacing.
“We used to be so close once, Juliet,” I continue. “Real close. Now look at us. We use to be best friends. And look, now I think we can both agree that the fire didn’t burn as hot as it use to as the years went on, but it was never like th
is. It was never like this. As soon as you got that thing, everything fuckin’ changed and you know it. The closeness, everything we had, began to burn out. It’s never been like this. And I’m right here. Right here in front of you.”
“Yeah. I know, I know you are,” she says softly, growing silent again for a moment, looking at the floor. “But. So that’s not real. But Anonymous, Anonymous is. You can’t even—”
“Look, Juliet, I can’t, I can’t be a part of what NCLs are. I just can’t. So can we just start over? Please. Figure out how to communicate again, right here and now, like people always have, like we always have, face-to-face, before all that electrical wiring came along. ”
And Juliet just stares at me.
“Can’t be a part of it? You’re a real psycho y’know that? I should have never...God those drugs have done a number on you.”
“What?”
“We? We don’t need to do anything. It’s you. It’s you Tybalt. You’re the one that needs to wake the fuck up!”
And she storms off.
She storms off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. You can hear her sobs through the door, through the water she’s left on at the faucet.
I follow soon after but she manages to lock the door behind her through it all. So I just stand there, listening, listening to the uncontrollable sobs of my wife, unsure what to do next.
I decide to do the only thing I can do; go on with the evening. So I change CHARLIE’s profile back to mine and have him make dinner, while I perform my half of our nightly dinner ritual. And then I just sit, sit in my designated spot at the dinner table. Waiting patiently. The usual. Only this time, I’m left with a feeling of fatigue, mental exhaustion, and silence in the room.
When the time comes, CHARLIE prompts me overhead that the CHEF unit has completed the meal for the night. But as I’m about to get up to prepare the meal, a surprise enters the room – Juliet.
She motions at me with her hand to stay seated. So I do as instructed, leaving her to my back, unbeknownst to the events unfolding from behind.
Then it happens.
Juliet places a meal in front of me, and then sits down across from me with her own. She was just simply performing her half of our nightly dinner ritual. Nothing more.