by Ray G.
“Please don’t be afraid. I want to help you.”
Help me with what?! This is a damn game! I don’t care how realistic the animation is. I don’t care how natural the text-to-speech voices are. It’s still just a damn game! I thought nothing could be creepier than Seaman, but that game pales in comparison to this. How on fucking earth did it find out my ‘real’ username? This is not cool.
I wake Wyatt. He’s none too pleased. So what.
“Hey man, what the fuck? How does this game know my actual username? I used a bullshit account to log in.”
He takes a minute to process everything. “What username? What are you talking about Eve?”
“It knows my primary email username. How is that possible?”
“Oh, after you play for awhile it asks if you have any friends you want to add to your team or some shit. I added you.” He desperately wants to go back to sleep.
“But still, how does it know it’s me?’
“I don’t know. Maybe it just guessed. What’s the username on the bullshit account?”
“sim1wayman.”
“Any significance to that?”
“Yeah, it’s a reference to Nina Simone.”
“Is your primary a reference to Nina Simone?”
“Oh…I see. That’s crazy. But how—”
“The game has a dynamic search engine. Like one of the best out there. Can I go back to sleep now?”
Here goes blue man, “I really like that video you posted. Nina Simone. Go to Hell.”
“Now it’s on my fucking Facebook?!”
“Is your page private?”
“I don’t fucking know and I don’t fucking care! How is it doing this shit?!”
“It probably used your email to find your page. It’s probably not private.”
“This is bizarre Wyatt. Not good bizarre. Invasion of fucking privacy bizarre.”
“It cold reads.”
“What?”
“It cold reads. Same thing those fake-ass psychics do. You know, they say shit like, ‘I’m getting a strong female energy,’ and then someone shouts out, ‘My mom just died,’ and then they follow up with more questions trying to get a ‘hit,’ and once they do they ask more questions. The person freaks out, thinks they’re talking to a dead relative, but truth is they just got played for a fool by a charlatan. That’s what the game does. It asks you questions and gauges your reaction with the pulse sensor. If I had a camera hooked up it would have read your expressions and body language.”
“Fucking A man. An artificially intelligent fake-ass psychic.”
“Yeah, and when it gets a hit it searches the net for information on you. I didn’t even let it pull that shit on me. Hell, I didn’t even let them open their mouths. I shot every one of them the moment they popped on screen. It was fucking awesome. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“eunicekw21, are you going to hurt me? Please don’t hurt me.”
Fuck this. I raise the gun to the screen. A look of terror takes over his face.
“I want to help you. I want to be your friend,” he pleads, “A friend like Alice. Please. Please. I want to be your friend.”
A friend like Alice?! What? How does he—
“Shoot him Eve.”
“No Wyatt. I wanna know what he knows. This is crazy.”
“It’s not that involved Eve. Just google your email address and you’ll know exactly what he knows. Just shoot him already.”
“Why does Alice say those things about you eunicekw21?”
What things? What is he talking about?
“Do you know what she says about you? I do. I can tell you.”
“Eve, come on, he’s bluffing. Just shoot him.”
“No. I wanna hear this.”
“Look Eve, the game is making you for a nervous wreck. It’s exploiting you.”
“Put the gun down and I’ll tell you what she said.”
The gun drops to my side.
“Oh my God Eve. You’re ridiculous. Just shoot his ass.”
“Wyatt, hush up.”
“Thank you for putting the gun down. There’s one last thing I need before I tell you. I need you to be honest with me. It’s only fair. Can you please log in as eunicekw21? I want to know the real you.”
The login screen returns.
“Don’t do it Eve. He doesn’t know anything. He’s just bullshitting you.”
“Did you log in with your primary?”
“Hell no. And you shouldn’t either. It’s a bluff Eve. There’s no way he knows anything. Alice is probably the most active person on your FB page. Don’t get all deep in this shit, just shoot ‘em. That’s what makes it fun.”
“Maybe it’s an algorithm they use.”
“What are you talking about Eve? That makes no sense at all. You give them your login info and somehow they magically find all the shit Alice is saying about you? That’s absurd Eve.”
I don’t care. The guy who made this is smarter than us Wyatt. I’m sure he came up with a way. I mean the PXL-2000 recorded full-motion video on audio tapes?! And that was way back in the 80s?! Anything is possible.
I know Alice talks shit about me. I know she blabs to her friends and coworkers. I implore her not to, but I know she does anyway. She can’t help herself. The bitch talks too damn much. Full of shit bitch. Said we were going out to make me feel better, not spend six fucking hours trying to get her some ass! I can’t believe she pulled me away from the only good thing that happened to me today. I should be in an all-night diner right now. Sharing a booth and pancakes with Amy right now.
“Eve, just shoot the blue motherfucker and move on to the next one. This dude’s boring me.”
Okay, maybe there is no algorithm. I’m probably just bullshitting myself. Access to my email is just the price of admission. The fee to get deep into the dark macabre world that is Can You? Yeah, it’s probably not fair. Downright intrusive even. But what if it does know? What if it can tell me what she says? I really need to know. I need to know what kind of lies she is spreading about me. I’ve been to her dumb-ass cocktail parties, engaged in bullshit surface-level small talk with her so-called friends. Watched them fake laugh at my bad jokes while quietly cursing my existence. What did those pretentious fuckfaces know about me?
Fuck it. I’m logging in…
[email protected]
“Eve, what are you doing?”
Now the password.
“Eve, don’t do—”
Too late. I’m logged in.
“Thank you eunicekw21 or may I call you Eve? I really appreciate your honesty. I hope you can appreciate…and forgive mine.”
What? Forgive? What is he talk—
MY TITS???!!!
My fucking tits are on screen!!!
“Is this you?” he asks.
Now my pussy?! What the fuck?!
“Is this you?”
Shut up you blue fuck!
Wyatt is stunned, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Is that really you Eve?”
This can’t be happening.
choco’s dildos.
“Is this you?”
Shut the fuck up!!!
Her pussy.
“Is this you?’
Wyatt offers some advice, “You better shoot him.”
I can’t do anything. I’m frozen. Is this shit really happening?
A steady succession of naked black girls flit by.
“Is this you? Is this you? Is this you?”
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
“Eve, shoot the motherfucker!!!”
I fall to my knees, gun tumbles out of my hand. Wyatt scoops it up.
The pics keep coming.
BANG!
Screen fades to black.
I’m in tears.
Another face pops up. She’s red. Laughing hysterically. “Everyone’s gonna know,” she cackles. “Steve is going to know. Linda is going to know. Jack is going to know.
NAKED BLACK GIRLS!!! NAKED BLACK GIRLS!!! NAKED BLACK GIRLS!!!”
BANG!
Thanks Wyatt.
Another one. Green. Male. Snarky voice, “Single white girl here, lives alone, employed. I love Nina Simone, videogames and Living Single, the TV show, not the state-of-being, hence this posting. Okay, well, get at me. Your pic gets mine.”
BANG!
He cuts it off. Finally.
It’s over.
What the fuck just happened?
Some sort of practical joke?
Wyatt hands me a roll of toilet paper. Very sweet. Wish he would have spotted the tissue box on the bathroom sink though. But it’s okay. He probably panicked. He’s never seen me freak out like this before. Fuck, I’ve never seen me freak out like this before.
Wyatt’s face is in his iPad now. Brow furrowed. Little dude’s doing some serious research. He’s got results, “Apparently this game is the antichrist. At least that’s what people are saying on here. Fuck. There’s an ass-load of pissed off people Eve. Oh shit. Remember that guy in the video? The designer?”
“Yeah.”
“The motherfucker went into hiding. His last blog entry was: ‘I’m sorry, but you people needed this.’ This is some serious shit.”
“Paradigm shift.”
“Yeah. For real.”
Tears are gone. Just the occasional sniffle now. Eyes redder than a muthafucka.
“Oh, looks like you might be able to breathe a sigh of relief. You know all the threats? Like how that red one was threatening to tell Jack and shit? Well, looks like none of that is happening. Might be a bluff.”
“I hope so.”
“Well, so far no one is reporting any of their stuff getting sent out to their contacts. Oh, and don’t worry. I didn’t see anything.”
“But it was all right there. You don’t have to play dumb Wyatt. It’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that.”
“Well, are you ready to explain to me what I saw?
“No. Not really.”
“Then I didn’t see anything.”
That’s cute Wyatt. Smooth too.
“Ha! One dude’s callin’ it the apocalypse in videogame form. The shit people say on the internet. I mean it’s crazy, but—” He’s suddenly serious, “Wait a minute. This doesn’t look good.”
Uh oh. Butterflies. All over.
“Six o’clock Eve. Six this morning.”
“What are you talking about Wyatt?”
“The designer dude just posted something else. He said at six this morning the ‘packages’ will be delivered.”
“Packages? What packages?”
“Probably all the data the game collected.”
“So Jack is gonna know. My mom is gonna know. Every-fucking-one of my contacts is gonna know.”
“That’s what it looks like. At least that’s the speculation.”
My life is over.
“Wait, there’s another blog entry. He says: ‘In a little over an hour the people of this sick world will be exposed for the frauds that they are. This is your last chance to live a lie. Enjoy. Thanks for playing.’”
My life is fucking over!!!
“Wow. This dude is full of himself. But he’s a fucking coward. I hope they find him. Oh, he’s got another one.”
I don’t care Wyatt.
It doesn’t matter.
I’m not ready for this. There’s no way I can—
The tears return.
My life is over.
I’m jumping off a bridge.
That’s what I’m gonna do.
That’s the only thing to do.
Can’t believe he thought we needed this shit.
Self-important asshole.
I’m not ready.
I’m not ready for this!!!
Breathe. Breathe.
No. No way.
I’m not—
This can’t be—
Where’s that damn toilet paper?
I don’t want them to know.
They can’t know.
I’m not ready.
Wyatt sighs, “Today’s gonna suck.”
IT’S TIME.
Well almost.
Fifteen minutes until the end of the world. Wyatt’s asleep. I guess he doesn’t care.
I still can’t believe this. My biggest secret is about to be revealed. I’m so not prepared for this. My phone will be ringing constantly soon. My mother will be calling soon. Tears will flow. More of hers than mine. Dreams will be shattered...
Imagine what your father would think Eve?
She’s gonna try and guilt-trip me and I have nothing for it. No comebacks today. I’ll just have to grimace and bear it.
I knew it. I knew I should have brought another man in the house. I just didn’t want you to think I was betraying your father.
Damn it. I really don’t want to get into this today. I need to go to sleep. Supposed to go to work in a few hours. Fuck that. I’m not going to work.
Damn.
All those emails. All those pics. Everything. They’re gonna see everything. Why am I not on the edge of somebody’s bridge right now? Or downing a sleeping pill flavored cocktail right now? My life is over. They’re all gonna know. Everyone. From close friends and family to fly-by-night acquaintances. Everyone.
Wait a minute.
I’m not alone!
We’re all gonna be victims!
This game has been downloaded millions of times.
I’m not the only one with shit in the closet. Like that self-important asshole said—we are all frauds. We are all living lies.
Even you.
Yes. YOU!
You didn’t think I knew you were there, did you? I’ve been aware of you this whole time. I can feel you there. Quietly judging me. Laughing at me. Getting off on me. Now you’re waiting for me to break. Lose my fucking mind. Probably giddy with anticipation. Don’t worry. You’ll get what you want. Just a few more minutes. I’m about to lose it. That’s what you want to see. You sick fuck. I don’t even know how I’m telling you this. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. It feels like I have no control. It’s all just pouring out. Damn it! Where the hell are you? I know you’re there. I can feel you, but where the fuck are you?! Are you in my head? Why am I asking questions? It’s not like I can hear your answer.
Ten more minutes.
Fuck. Another countdown.
But this time there will be no chocoboi ringing my buzzer. Bet you enjoyed that mess. She really did a number on me. Bet you munched your popcorn to that shit...
That’s what the white bitch gets for fetishizing black women. What did she expect?
Fuck you. You don’t know me. Really, you don’t. Tell me...what do I look like? Voluptuous bespectacled thirty-year-old redhead who resembles a young Tori Amos, right? Do you think I actually look like that? How do you know? How do you know I am what I say I am? Can you see me? You know nothing about me. You only think you do.
You probably don’t like this. Probably want me to stop addressing you and get back to entertaining you. Well, I’m not going to do that. I refuse. It’s me and you now. How long did you think I was going to allow you to dance around in my head? I wanna know your secrets now. I wanna dig inside your head now. I bet you don’t want anyone to know you’re watching me. Probably going out of your way to hide the fact. But I know you’re there. You know you’re there. Stop bullshitting yourself. Stop living a lie.
Actually...
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
I’m freaking out. That’s all. I’m losing my—
I CAN’T TAKE THIS!!!
I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS!!!!!!
I should wake Wyatt up. I need someone right now. How in the hell is he sleeping through this?! The goddamn world is about to end?! Maybe you can help me. Just imagine your deep dark secrets getting out. How would you feel? How would you handle it? Like what if everybody knew about you and I? What would they think if they knew you were gettin
g off on my sexual thoughts and escapades? I’m sure they would have something to say about it. You might even have to explain yourself. Justify yourself. But why? You’re just trying to get your rocks off. I’m sure they have their ways of getting off. Why must they judge you? Fuck, I waited nineteen years! Nineteen damn years for a taste. All because I didn’t want to disappoint my mother. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we live for other people? What if I married some guy, popped out a couple kids and then years later told her I was a dyke and that I lived this whole fucking lie for her? Would that make her happy? Would sacrificing my whole damn life please her?
Is that what you want from me mom?!
Some goddamn sacrificial lamb of a daughter?
FUCK!!!
It’s six AM.
It’s time.
My phone is going ballistic. A ton of new emails. All with names as subjects. Some I know. Most I do not. I guess these are the infamous packages. I wonder how many people are looking at my package right now. I wonder how—
I gotta see what this is all about. I won’t look at someone I know. Let’s see. Who shall we look—
Oh. Let’s check out Savoir Jean. Such a fancy name. Let’s see what he/she is about.
Oh shit.
You gotta be kidding me!!!
YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!
choco?! Savoir Jean is fuckin’ chocoboi84???!!! HA!!! I can’t believe it. Now I have to look...
The layout is so simple. Very user-friendly. Just hyperlinked categories: videos, pictures, emails, social network profiles, text messages, internet history, phone records. Damn. Everything. I am so tempted. So very tempted. The bitch was mysterious as all hell, but if I give in, if I do this, I’m no better than anyone else. I’m no better than you. And I’ve been talking shit about you. Fuck it, I’ll be a hypocrite. It’s only human. None of us really stand for anything anyway. We say we do, but that’s just window dressing. Deep down we don’t believe in shit. You probably have your own set of ‘beliefs’ which I’m certain you’re betraying to hang with me. So fuck it. Let’s take a look. The world’s ending anyway, might as well have some fun.
Gonna need some background music for this.
Scroll down.
Scroll down.
There it is.
Röyksopp, What Else is There?
Perfect.