I have Bipolar 1. There, I said it. It’s not something I usually talk about very much. I’m private about it because it’s something I really struggle with, and sometimes, I’m even embarrassed about it. Especially the times that I’m manic. But I’m not always manic- in fact, Bipolar has many different faces. For those of you who don’t know, there are three basic states you can be in when you have Bipolar 1: depressed, stable, or manic. Technically you can be hypomanic, too, which is a state of near-mania that is usually characterized by Bipolar 2, but the condition wears the same face as mania. Two of the states- mania and depression- are bad for different reasons. With mania comes irresponsible, life-changing decisions and high impulsivity. Mania is toxic to the brain and can cause someone to ruin their own life, but while you’re manic, you feel like you’re on top of the world. Depression brings with it suicidal ideations, feelings of hopelessness, and a deep despair that eats into the soul. It was the end of April. I had had a rough go of it recently due to my manic episode in September and my subsequent depression in the following months. I had been absolutely crippled by this depression largely because of my mania. I had done so many things I was ashamed of, made so many decisions I regretted, but at the time I had been so happy and carefree. The months after that were spent picking up the pieces of the destruction I had left in my wake. Now, though, it was almost summer. My summer classes would begin soon and I had work at the funeral home to keep me busy. I had more structure in my life, and things finally started to feel…better. I had recently moved, partly to get away from the ruin I’d left behind, partly for mortuary school. But mostly to get away. I was in a new place, on my own (except for my faithful pug), with a new career path and no friends or family in the area. I felt conflicted because part of me was lonely and nervous- this was the most “adult” I’d ever had to be- but the rest of me was so excited to begin a new life. This, coupled with a new therapist who finally got me on the right medication, helped me level out. I was actually able to experience joy again, this time without being destructive. I could finally put on my Stable Face. I probably should have mentioned this, but when I said that Bipolar has many faces, I meant that literally. At least, in my case. I have three faces I can wear, but they will only look natural if my mood matches the face. For example, if I’m depressed and I try to wear my Stable Face, the flesh will be askew and the skin won’t line up like an ordinary human face. Think of the cockroach alien flesh suit from ‘Men in Black.’ Yeah, not so pretty. But you know what? Bipolar isn’t pretty either. When I’m not using them, I keep my faces in a jar by the door. The little window lets in the perfect amount of sunlight for my faces to get their proper amount of vitamin D without having to actually set them outside. I’m sure the neighbors wouldn’t be pleased about that anyway. My Depressive and Manic Faces floated flaccidly in a mixture of formaldehyde and other preservatives that I managed to sneak home from work. Every year, I would change out the mixture and clean the jar. Tongs in hand, I dangled my Stable Face over the kitchen sink and began to rinse off the chemicals. I made sure to scrub inside and out, especially around the holes for my eyes and inside the nose, because formaldehyde always makes my eyes and nostrils burn. Then, I gently patted it dry with a clean towel and ran my fingers across the loose skin. The brow was not furrowed like the Depressive Face I’d been wearing for so long, and the eye holes weren’t wide and wild like my Manic Face. No, this face was relaxed and at peace. It also wore the slightest hint of a smile, its lips turned up at the edges. I brushed my hair back up into a bun and began to apply my Stable Face. For the first time in forever, it fit perfectly. I gently pasted down the edges to cover the exposed flesh and muscle tissue beneath the skin, then I looked in the mirror and flashed myself a smile. It actually looked genuine, and I could practically feel the endorphins rushing through my body. I added a little makeup, and voila! The perfect face. I looked at my reflection and felt confident and beautiful. I was still admiring myself when I heard a noise. I was in the bathroom, so I didn’t hear the initial click of the jimmied lock, but I did hear the slight creak of the un-oiled hinge on my front door. My ears pricked up, and I heard my pug begin to growl from the entryway. Suddenly, she yelped and bolted into the bathroom with me. I scooped her up and closed the bathroom door with my back against it, heart beginning to race. Someone was in my apartment. I held my breath and tried to keep my dog as quiet as possible. The intruder was rifling through my things, looking for valuables. I cursed myself as I remembered that I’d left my purse right out in the open. After a few minutes passed that seemed more like hours, I finally heard the door shut. I expelled my breath in a heaving sigh and placed my dog back on the ground. She had stopped whining, so that probably meant she couldn’t smell the intruder in the apartment anymore. I peeked around the edge of the bathroom door and into the front room. There was no one. I relaxed a little, stepping out of the bathroom and into the front room to check my purse. Oddly enough, nothing had been stolen out of my wallet. The whole purse was untouched. I furrowed my brow and then had to reposition my forehead to undo it. I went to the front door and, sure enough, the lock had been picked. Shaking my head, I looked down at the small table to my right. On top of it sat my bowl of keys, and on the shelf beneath sat my jar of faces. I mean…face. There was only one. Panicking, I picked up the glass jar and examined it from all sides. Still, there remained only one. My Depressive Face. Someone-the intruder- had stolen my Manic Face, the most dangerous of all my faces. With that face, some serious, serious damage can be done. Now, I’d never had anyone steal my faces before, so I wasn’t sure how this would all play out. Would my face fit on someone else? What would happen if they weren’t manic? How the hell was I going to get it back? I thought hard about who could have possibly wanted to do this to me? The only people in the world that knew about my faces were me and my parents. I racked my brain for any enemies I might have made recently, thinking that maybe someone had come for revenge and instead found something so bizarre they had to take it. But they didn’t take both- just the one. Why? And how did they find out? I was on the verge of frustrated tears. I’d had no visitors for weeks, maybe even months because of the depression I had just gotten out of. And I worried that with the extra fear I was now carrying I might need to slip my Depressive Face back on. I went to the mirror and adjusted my skin. It looked okay. Not perfect, but good enough to pass as a normal woman. I thought about calling the police about the break-in, but what would I tell them about what the intruder stole? I imagined a cop showing up at my house, leaning back with his hands in his pockets and examining my door. “Yup, that lock’s been picked alright. Ain’t much we can do about it since they didn’t steal anything, just get your locks changed,” said the imaginary policeman. I huffed and called a locksmith, then I took my pug and left the apartment to go to the park. I just needed to get out of there for a bit, every second I was in there I felt like I was being watched. I made sure I hid my extra face. Once we were at the park, I read and my dog played, and for a moment, everything was forgotten. That changed when I got back home. It was late in the evening by that time, and I was exhausted from the sun exposure and emotional trauma of the day. I’d just bid the locksmith goodbye as he finished up. I didn’t feel like cooking, so I ordered a pie from Papa’s Pizza for takeout rather than delivery. I’d gotten delivery from there the whole time I was depressed, and I was ready to get off my ass and out of the house, even if I wasn’t fully up to cooking my own food yet. What better way to relax than eating comfort food? I kissed my dog on her forehead the way I always do before I leave the house, even if it’s just for a short while. I triple-checked that the new lock was secured before leaving to pick up my food. Then, I hopped in my car and put on some Zeppelin. I lost myself in the music and drove to the restaurant under a cloudy, darkening sky. When I arrived, I sat in the parking lot so that the song I was listening to could finish, then I got out and slammed the door behind me. My feet crunched on the gravel as I swung open the glass door and entered the establishment. I strolled up to the bored-looking middle-aged man at the register and gave him my name. He looked up at me. “So you’re the special customer Katy was talking about. She loved your tips, man. Shame she was fired,” he said, and reached around to grab my pizza. Gears turned in my head. “Fifteen, even.” Katy. Katy…that was the name that always popped up on my delivery app. She was the girl who had been consistently delivering me pizzas for months now- the only person that could have peeked inside my apartment and seen my faces. It had to be her. “Wait, why was she fired?” I asked slowly, reaching into my purse to fish for my wallet. He shrugged. “Started acting fuckin’ crazy. Kept saying her face was falling off, or something.” I bit my lip and nodded, trying to keep a straight face, no pun intended. I handed him the cash. “Right, right. Did she say where she was going, by any chance?” He shrugged again. “Just home, I guess. Said she didn’t need a job anymore anyway because she just became a millionaire.” I sighed. Classic mania. It all hit too close to home. “Alright,” I said as he gave me change for the twenty, “Where is ‘home,’ then?” The man snorted. “How should I know? I don’t look at employee records.” “Well, could you show them to me?” He rolled his eyes. “Ma’am…” he started. “I’m gonna stop you right there. First of all, I am way too young to be a ‘ma’am.’ Second, you’re gonna show me that record,” I said, acting more confident than I actually felt. This time, he actually laughed. It was more like a hee-haw. “Or what?” I hesitated for a second, then I had an idea. Tearing at the delicate glue that I’d used to paste my face to my head, I ripped off my Stable Face and showed him the raw, pulsating, muscular, exposed, gruesome tissues beneath. Immediately, a wet spot started to form in his jeans. “Rah!” I screamed at him, lunging forward menacingly. Then, he passed out. I admit I had to stifle a giggle as I rearranged my face to the best of my ability. I’d never shown that to anyone except my parents. Focus, I told myself. I walked behind the counter and wandered into the back of the store. The office was the first door on my right down the hallway that led from the kitchen. I approached the file cabinet and opened the top drawer. ‘Financial Statements,’ it read. I closed it. In the second drawer, I found what I was looking for. ‘Employee Records.’ I found Katy’s resume in the ‘Shred’ folder. Her address was listed right at the top. Perfect, now I knew where I needed to go. I left the pizza parlor after repositioning the unconscious man so that he wouldn’t wake up with a kink in his neck. Then, I took my pizza and headed straight to Katy’s, eating in the car along the way. When I got there, there was only one car in the driveway. I hoped she lived alone. I knocked on the door, softly at first, but then louder after there was no answer to the first knock. A light flicked on in the doorway and I heard footsteps approach. Slowly, the door opened, but only just a crack. “What is it? What do you want?” said a gruff female voice. “Katy? It’s me, Isabelle, your best customer. I think you have something of mine?” I heard her gasp on the other side of the door. She paused to consider her next move, then sighed and opened the door fully. It was me. I mean, she was me. It was like looking in a mirror, except the body was different. She had my face, and it was a face I was oh, so familiar with. Wild-eyed and not quite lucid, but damn, it fit her perfectly. “You can come in. Sit over there on that old couch, I’m tossing it tomorrow and buying all new furniture for this place.” I didn’t sit. “Katy, I know you must have a lot going on, but I need my face back,” I said patiently. “Well yeah, this is the busiest I’ve ever been in my life, so I’ll make this quick. Look, it’s not like I wanted to steal your face. I actually never even noticed the jar on your shelf until my own face started to peel off one day. And then I robbed you, and everything changed! Oh, my life is just perfect now! I’m gonna sell the house and buy a big van, you know? Like, the old-fashioned Volkswagen buses? And I’m gonna travel across the country and live off of the land. I’ll be blogging and taking photos the whole time if you want to follow my adventures- after all, it will be your face that makes me famous. Tell you what, we can even split the profits!” She spoke with such genuine zeal and excitement, I couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her that she was just delusional, that it didn’t make sense to buy new furniture for a house she that was planning to sell, that her life didn’t change at all- she did. And now she was about to destroy herself without help. “Katy, listen to me,” I said, formulating a plan in my mind, “I’m gonna make you a promise, okay? If you give me back my face, your life is going to get so much better. And I can take you to a place full of people who will recognize all of your faces, and just how beautiful each of them are. But they have to be your own.” She blinked at me, skeptical. I continued. “Look, bring me your face, the one that fell off.” She shrugged and went to fetch it. When she brought it out and I looked at it, I felt a pang of sympathy. She was so beautiful, yet she couldn’t accept herself. Her flesh had rejected itself. I gently took the face in my hands. It had only been a day, so the fact that she hadn’t preserved it in formaldehyde wasn’t that big of a deal. I would have to tell her about that trick, though. “Now, can you do something for me? It’s not going to be easy, but I need you to trust me, because I’ve stood in your shoes before. I need you to give me back my face, and then you need to face yourself. We’re going to patch you up as best as we can, and then we’re going to go on the most important adventure of your life.” Katy nodded and bit her- my- lip. We went into the bathroom together and I helped her by getting my long fingernails under the edge of the skin to peel off the rest of the face. Once it was off, I sighed with relief, then I folded it up and slipped it into my purse. “Okay. This isn’t going to be perfect, but we’re gonna do our best,” I said. After a half hour of glue and two hours of makeup, she looked reasonable enough to pass as a slightly-deformed woman. By the time I got her to the hospital, I knew that she would be in capable hands and that her face would readjust alongside with her medications over time. The medical staff would probably be baffled. I think she realized what was happening on the car ride over, but she didn’t try to fight me. Deep down, she knew that something was wrong and that she needed all the help she could get. I let her eat the rest of my cold pizza. Once they were ready to take her back, we exchanged a hug and waved goodbye. I slipped her a small piece of paper with my phone number on it. “Sometimes it gets lonely in there, so… Just call anytime.” She smiled genuinely at me as a tear rolled down her own cheek. “Thanks, Isabelle. Things are going to change again, aren’t they?” Her voice cracked. “Yeah, they’re gonna change. But remember when I said that this is the most important adventure of your life. It might be grueling, and sometimes you might even hate it. But it’s a path you’ve gotta take.” Katy nodded. “The most important adventure of my life,” she echoed thoughtfully. I gave her hand one last squeeze before they took her away. I knew we would keep in touch. It’s been a year since Katy stole my face, but in that time, she’s managed to build faces of her own, and I’m proud to say that she’s been wearing her Stable Face consistently for 9 months now. I’ve still got mine on, too. We’ve still got a long way to go, but now, we get to be our best selves, and we’re doing it together. I can’t wait to see what face she’ll be wearing when I pull out the engagement ring tonight.


The florescent light shined oppressively bright. The room was sterile, not a single speck of dirt or dust can be found. There's hardly any furniture, only two metal folding chairs and a cold, metal desk populate this small room. I've been in this room before, it never gets easier. For hours I've stared at the walls, the silent sea of white made me want to scream. There was a clock, but I chose to stop counting the time a long time ago. The ticking, it made my teeth hurt. I tapped my fingers on the desk, waiting for the interviewer to arrive. He's normally early, but today it seems he's late. Not that I cared, I wasn't leaving any time soon. After all, I was born in this lab. The interviewer finally came in. He was a short, stocky, bald man with wire frame glasses. He flashed me a cheesy smile and sat down in the adjacent chair. He was drinking a coffee, he offered me some but I declined. He was also holding a file of my profile. "Sorry I'm late, I was getting a coffee." The man said. "No problem. Can we get this moving please?" I asked impatiently. The man grimaced, but it was so fast you would miss it if you blinked. He cleared his throat. "Well, Subject 3250." "Birdy! Call me Birdy!" I interrupted, slamming my fist on the table. His coffee shook, spilling a little bit. The man sighed and moved on with his speech. "Well, Birdy, I'm here to say that you are no longer needed for Project Hellhound." I smiled. This was the first piece of good news I heard in, all my life! Since I was a hatchling, I've been poked on proded for Project Hellhound, but now I'm free. "That's great news! Finally I can leave." I said, not trying to hide my joy. Instead of being happy, the man just sighed and shook my head. I was confused. I'm free to go, right? "We're done testing for Project Hellhound, but we still need you here. Further testing is needed. I shook my head. This had to be some practical joke. "But I completely all my tests! Maybe you eggheads made a mistake with the paperwork?" I said, confused. The man continued, not even addressing my complaint. "We understand that you're upset, but we simply can't let you leave. Scientific breakthroughs are about to be discovered, we can't afford to let you leave." I started to get upset. My feathers became rigid with rage. "You can't do this to me! Project Anubis is done, what the hell do you need me for?" I asked exasperated. "You can't leave, deal with it!" The man said, frustrated. I was furious. All my life I waited for this moment, and for what? To be told no? I was silent for a moment, then I spoke again. "I'm leaving." I muttered. "What?" The man asked. "I'm leaving!" I shouted. The man's face grew red. "You listen to me, bird boy. You're aren't leaving, and that's final. What, you think you can walk outside? A disgusting abomination like you? You were born in here and you're gonna die in here. So get your bird ass back to your room!" The man shouted. I had enough. I got up, like he wanted. I grabbed the cup of coffee and threw it in the man's face, catching him off guard. He screamed in extreme pain, rubbing and wiping his face in vain. I reached down and grabbed the key from his key rack. He grabbed my hand, not letting go. In his other hand, he had a walkie-talkie. "3250 has breeched containment! 3250 has breeched containment!" He said over and over. I had no other choice. He held onto my arm and was calling in the Regulators. I reached down and bit him in the neck. He screamed loudly as I bit, breaking the skin. I was aiming for a vein, and I found one. Blood stained the sterile room, mixing red with white like an unholy fourth of July. Blood stained the hospital gown I was wearing. I let go, the man dropping to the floor dead. A puddle formed, allowing me to see myself for the first time. I had the face of a Raven, eyes, nose, and body to go with it. Instead of a beak, I have human teeth, yellow and straight. Blood covered my mouth, like I ate chocolate cake. I opened the door and walked out, the lights of the hallway greeted me as I walked. Down the hall was a guards nest. Only one guard was stationed because until this moment, I was one of the more cooperative subjects. The guard was on his phone, away from me. I walked back into the room with the dead interviewer and broke the coffee cup. I grabbed the sharp piece of porcelain and made my way to the guard. I raised the sharp piece, waiting to strike. My foot made the floorboards creek. The guard turned around, seeing me. Panicked, I stuck the piece of porcelain into his neck, causing him to bleed intensely. Before he dropped dead, he pressed the alarm. "Shit!" I yelled, closing the door. Once the alarm was on, only a senior Regulator could shut it off. I took his utility belt, including his pistiol. As I wrapped the belt around my waist, I couldn't help but notice how funny this was. All I wanted to was to be free, and no I'm actually doing it. I took off my shirt and replaced it with the guards. I took the guards keychain, using it to open the storage locker behind him. Inside was a flashlight, a box of pistiol ammo, and an MP5. I took the rifle and placed it on my back. I had a feeling I was going to need it. I pressed the button leading out of the hallway, leading into the dorm room. The lights were out because of the alarm. An errie red bathed the hallway. The other hybrids were locked in there rooms until further notice. Pounding and scratching filled the hall. I walked down for a bit until I got a cut on my foot. I was barefoot going in. I investigated the ground, discovering broken glass. They path ahead was covered in broken glass. I turned right, into another hallway. I saw blood splattered to the walls. Dead hybrids littered the floor. Apon further investigation, it appeared that someone, or something, bit a chunk out of all there heads! I heard disgusting chewing sounds. Flesh being tore, the cracking of bones. It made me sick. I shined my light ahead of me, at the end of the hallway. On the other end of the hallway was a wolf man eating the body of a dead deer girl. Shit, I thought. They brought out the pure breds! The pure breds were successful experiments conducted by Project Hellhound. They're used to police the hybrids. It looked at me, blood and drool dripped from its mouth. "Back to your room!" It shouted, throwing the deer girl aside. I didn't move, instead I pulled out my pistol and shot it in the head. It didn't work, because the wolf man charged at me. In a split second I ran into the the closet room I could find. Which so happened to lead to the children's wing. I ran through the double doors, locking them with a mop. The wolf thrashed wildly against it, applying stress to the broom. I was certain it was going to give way, allowing the wolf to rip me apart. In a stroke of luck, a half rat half man caught the wolf's attention. "Please! Help me, I've been stabbed!" He said. The wolf tackled him, mauling him. I took off, running down the hall. I entered a gym like area, but it was dark so I couldn't tell. No one was there, so I took time to breath. All of this was insane, I felt like I was in a nightmare. An endless nightmare, but no matter how many times I pinch myself I can't wake up. I heard crying behind me, I spun around ready to shoot. To my surprise I saw a little girl. She looked like a piglet. "Don't hurt me, please!" She pleaded. I put my pistol back into my holster. I shushed her. "Don't worry honey, I'm one of you." I said. The girl looked at me, calming down. "Who are you?" She asked. "I'm Brian, Brian Thatcher." I replied. "I'm Hallie." The girl said. "Where's your parents, Hallie?" I asked. Hallie started to sniffle. "The bad people killed them." Guilt ate away at my insides. I didn't know I would cause all this pain and suffering. I looked at Hallie, her innocent face looking back at me. "Hallie, I'm leaving this place." I blurted out. "C-can I go with you?" Hallie asked. A voice inside me told me to leave her, but I couldn't live with myself if I did that. "Sure Hallie." I replied. Hallie smiled widely. "Thank you, Mr Thatcher! I can't wait to see the sun for the first time!" "Just call me Birdy, ok?" I said. "Ok, Birdy." Hallie replied. This was serious now. Not only did I have to leave for myself, but I have someone to protect. I would never leave her alone. I am the feathered soldier.


“Mommy is sick,” Daddy said to the little boy when he wandered into the bedroom. The little boy already knew that. He could tell by looking at her. Mommy stayed inside the house every day for months. She didn’t get up to make breakfast. She didn’t get up to take a bath. And she didn’t even answer the holo-phone when it rang. But she wasn’t sick, not really. She didn’t have a fever. She didn’t have a cold. She didn’t even have a tummy ache. Daddy had to take care of everything now. He would wake up with the little boy every morning and make his breakfast and sometimes, he even made pancakes. Then he would drive the little boy to school on his way to work. “Kiss Mommy goodbye,” Daddy told the little boy, and he did, but he held his breath from the smell. After they left, Mommy laid in bed, engulfed the silence of the empty house. Her hand moved on the pillow next to her face. She felt nothing. It was just an empty hand. But then, she was pushing herself up. She brainlessly shuffled her feet down the hallway and when she reached the smart-box on the wall, she flattened her palm against the screen. The house instantly came to life. The lights flickered on and the window blinds shut. The house plants were watered and the media center turned on. The vacuum scooted across the floor and the family pictures appeared on the walls. But she screamed when she walked into the kitchen, startled to see the little girl sitting on top of the counter. “Get down from there!” Mommy scolded as she tied the belt on her bathrobe. “Okay, Mommy.” The little girl hopped down and chased after her holographic ball bouncing down the hallway. Mommy squinted from the pain in her pounding brain. “What do you want for breakfast, Madeline?” “What?” The little girl called back. “I said- what do you want to eat for breakfast?” Mommy screamed at her over the racket of the bouncing ball. The little girl stood still with a look of confusion. “But it’s lunchtime.” “Well then, what do you want for lunch?” Mommy said in a normal tone. “Pancakes!” The little girl squealed and again chased the ball. Mommy smiled and rolled her eyes. The little girl sat with her hands folded on the table and watched as Mommy ate pancakes. When Mommy looked up from her tablet and coffee, she saw light flicker around the little girl’s smile. “Why don’t you go out and play, Madeline?” “Oh, but Mommy! I want to stay inside with you.” The little girl pleaded pitifully. “But maybe we can go swimming in the pool?” “No.” Mommy rubbed her tired eyes. “We can watch my birthday video again!” The little girl was already stretching her body to reach the smart box before Mommy could protest. She pushed a button and the video began in the living room. Guests were already mid-lyric, “Happy birthday, dear Maddie, Happy birthday to you!” A reflection: both girls grinning at Mommy. “Now blow out your candles, honey.” Mommy said in the video. The little girl looked confused again. “Doesn’t it make you happy anymore? Mommy?” Mommy looked up. The little girl could see mist at the edges of her eyes, even though she smiled. “It does, baby.” Mommy said sweetly. Mommy stood up and walked down the hallway to her bedroom. The little girl watched the video until it finished and disappeared. An hour passed before Mommy came out of her bedroom, cleaned and dressed. She cleaned up the kitchen while the little girl skipped a holographic jumping rope, singing loudly to herself. She picked up a laundry basket while the little girl played with the cat. She collected dirty clothes from all the corners and nooks of all the bedrooms. She washed the clothes and then dried them and then dumped out all the fresh clothes onto the couch to fold them as the little girl read aloud from a book called the Velveteen Rabbit. Mommy listened quietly to the story until she picked up a small purple sock. She stared at it before bursting into tears. The little girl stopped reading and looked at Mommy, who slid off the couch and onto the floor, curled her body around the sock with heaving sobs. “My sock.” The little girl said inconsequentially. Mommy stopped crying. She sat upright. She did not look at the little girl. She walked down the hallway to the door of Madeline’s room and opened it. She stepped through the faint light coming in around the closed window blinds. In the top dresser drawer, her fingertips searched for the lone sock. Upon finding it, she whimpered, tucked the two companions together, and laid them tenderly on the others. Mommy closed the bedroom door. The little girl was now standing in the middle of the hallway, watching. “Mommy?” “It’s okay.” Mommy reassured her. “You’re sad.” “Yes.” It was the first time she could say it. “I don't make you happy anymore?” Mommy shushed her. “Of course you do, sweetheart,” Mommy sat down on the floor and the little girl climbed into her lap. When she kissed the little girl’s cheek, a small static charge danced between them. “I love you very much and I miss you very much. And you still make me happy, every day.” Mommy looked into the little girl’s transparent eyes. “But I am sad. And I can’t keep doing this.” The little girl’s holographic image flickered wildly. “When you drowned, a part of me died too. And I know you aren’t here anymore. But I am still here. I’m still alive.” “Does that mean I have to go away now?” The little girl asked. “Yes, Madeline,” the name itself was a knife, “I’m so sorry.” She was choking on her sobs now, just trying to get the words out. “I gotta get back to the living.” “I understand.” The little girl said, although she didn’t. “Maybe we can play again sometime?” She still had hope in her voice. Mommy nodded. “Sometime." The little girl and Mommy stood up and waved goodbye to each other. Mommy touched the smart-box on the wall and the little girl vanished. The house was silent again. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror.


I died and when I got to heaven my dog, Bear, was waiting there for me. I could feel a light breeze on my temples and smell salt from a nearby ocean. I was back home, on the beach, just a few yards from the house I grew up in. Though I knew I wasn’t there in reality. Somehow, deep in the center of my being, I could sense that I was dead and it didn’t bear any more analyzing than that. Dead was dead and here I was. Bear lumbered up to me and even though it had been 20 years since we’d seen each other, he greeted me the same way he always did, with a bow and a pounce, reaching for my face with his long tongue. His tail made a familiar swooshing sound that I remembered hearing as a boy when it batted the air with enthusiasm. Dead was dead and here we were. That time on the beach was forever and yesterday. I looked forward to it tomorrow and fondly remembered it in memory. Heaven was truly a magical place. Bear and I settled down in the sand, it was wet to my toes but dry to my rear as I sat down. Heaven apparently liked to edit the little things that reality didn’t get right the first time. I looked around and found children with small iridescent wings helping them glide through the air playing with other dogs. And then there was a man beside me. “He’s been excited for you.” Said the man, taking Bears head into his hands and scratching just below the ears. “He told me everything about your walks here.” The man turned his gaze to me and I could see fondness in his eyes. A kindred pet owner, I assumed. “Thank you, I didn’t know he’d be here.” I said, unable to turn my own eyes away from the man, he was a new form of captivating. “I didn’t know how much I missed him.” “Well, dogs are my favorite, it was no problem for me.” I realized then that I couldn’t define the man beyond him being a man and being kind. Everything else was supplemental and not worth registering. I couldn’t tell you his clothes, the sound of his voice, or even the color of his hair. “The dogs, are they all waiting for owners?” I asked. “Not all of them. Some are strays that met an end somewhere. Turns out life is just life. Sometimes it’s not fair for any creature, dogs included.” He pointed to one a ways off playing with a child. “I do everything I can to make them feel whole again. That one there, Walt is his name, only had one leg his entire life but here, he could have eight legs if he asked! I wouldn’t mind.” “And what about the boy he’s with, is that his owner?” I watched as they chased each other round and round. The boy couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. “Oh no. Like I said, that rascal was a stray, so I had to find him someone to bond with.” “That’s nice of you.” “Dogs are my favorite, they get what they need here.” The man reached out for Bear again. Bear responded by rolling over and exposing his belly, leg cocked up, tail brushing the wet sand back and forth. “You see, dogs were the last thing I came up with and I like to think I perfected the formula at that point.” I realized then that this man wasn’t a man. He was everything. The sand particles, the water, the air, the wind, and even the bond that Bear and I shared. Upon this realization, I suddenly found myself out of words. What do you say to Heaven? We sat for a spell, neither party needing to fill the silence. We just existed next to each other; me, Bear and the everything man. Then a thought occurred to me. If there ever was a thought I wish I could unthink it was that one. “I know what brought Bear here, I know what brought me here,” I lifted a finger and pointed at the child with little wings in a gleeful game of tug-of-war with his own dog using a piece of driftwood. “But may I ask what brought that little boy here?” “Oh that little boy?” The everything man, with a twinkle in his being turned to me. “Walt there needed someone, so I brought the boy here to help him find his way.” “Yes but, what caused the little boy…” I trailed off, I didn’t want to be insensitive. “To die?” The man sensed my thoughts. Of course he did. He chuckled to himself. “My dear friend, I did.” He didn’t wait for me to register any astonishment. “A dog needs a friend. A little cancer here, an accident there, all dogs have a companion that I brought to them. A few children here and there won’t leave the world empty.” I watched the little boy and the dog lay back on the sand together. Exhausted but happy. “All dogs need a companion.” The man said as he patted Bear on the head “After all, dogs are my favorite. They get what they need here, no matter the cost.” Bear nuzzled the man’s hand and we continued and still continue to sit there in Dog Heaven. Where dead was dead and there we all were.


I feel a slow tossing beneath me. Faintly I hear the beginnings of my housemates alarm. It grows steadily louder until he reaches over and silences it, rolling back over in the bed. I lay on a large pillow next to him and my other housemate. She hasn’t stirred. The alarm goes off twice more before they turn on the light and start moving about the room. I remain on my pillow, quietly snoozing into the morning. I listen to them move about as I continue my rest. The two furry roommates move about the floor with the clicking and clacking of claws on hardwood. I tuck my nose under my tail and continued to snooze. As they all move down stairs I give a silent stretch, my claws reaching outward. I could get up, but it isn’t quite time. I hear the loud whirr of their morning food machine. It disturbs me, but since it is far below me, down the stairs, I am not overly concerned. One housemate leaves the house, taking the furry roommates with her. She will return shortly, but for now the house is free of them. They move so fast, and make such loud noises. Barks and woofs at every little thing outside. My other housemate continues his morning ritual. I hear the food machine again, water, more water. Eventually he returns up the stairs. He moves into my room and grabs the small black plate that holds my food. I know he is going to refill it, but I still do not stir from my spot on the pillow. I snooze and I wait. Some time later the second housemate returns, the furry ones with her. They are loud and moving quickly through the house, excited after their morning adventure. I don’t leave the house, not that I ever wanted to. Plenty could be seen from the windows. I have seen birds, squirrels, and many other wonderful things. Some days, when the windows are “opened” I can even smell and hear them. I smell and hear other things, but they are strange and loud, and I don’t want to encounter them, so I am content to wait inside the house, and smell and hear from my windows. I hear them below, the housemate giving them commands so they can earn their food. I certainly don’t do that. He brings me the food and I eat it at my leisure. He comes up the stairs clicking the plate to a hard band on his finger. Some days I will jump up and follow him to my room for the plate, but today is not one of those days, today is a day for more snoozing. Some time later, when all are back down the stairs I let out a final stretch and climb to my feet. My legs are a bit shaky, not as strong as they once were. My feet land on the floor next to the bed with a louder thud than I intended. The muscles just don’t absorb the same way they used to. I sonder across the floor to my room, where my food waits. I have to cross by the fan, it blows so loudly. I don’t like the fan, it always makes my whiskers feel strange, and it moves so fast, so loud. But I press on into my room. It is nice here. The food on my clean plate, on top of my placemat. Next to it sits a small fountain that gives me running water. It is only good out of the back corner of the dish, but I try not to complain to the housemates about it too often. A quick taste of the food reveals it is tuna. I like tuna. I have heard the housemates say chicken is my favorite, but I know they know better. They always give me more tuna in a week than chicken, and they never seem surprised when I leave most of the chicken still on the plate. After a few more licks I decide to save the rest for later, and head back to the pillow. No windows are opened yet, so I just go back to my morning nap. The noises below die down as the housemates settle into their morning. The second housemate will be up in my room soon. I haven’t know her as long, but we share a special bond. She sits ever so still while in my room, and doesn’t seem to get as excited as my first housemate. Though, admittedly, she doesn’t scratch the ears or chin enough while she sits, which is a problem. I have been trying to train her better recently by standing up where she places her hands on the desk and talking at her. When she doesn’t listen I bite her hands to get her attention. She does eventually come up, and scoops me off my pillow. I know it is going to happen, like every day, but I protest anyway. She takes me to my room and sets me in her lap. I let out a final protest and lay down on the small blanket she places on her lap. She begins her morning. On the desk above my head I hear the furious tapping of her fingers on a small contraption. She does this all day. The other housemate does something similar, but conducts it down the stairs, with the furry roommates. I lay patiently, before long the strokes will come and with them scratches as well. I am correct, soon a hand is on my head, scratching my ears. Then moving swiftly to my chin, oh how does it feel so good? I stretch and relax across the housemates lap. I can’t ask for much else. After some time I decide I am actually hungry and jump down to revisit the food plate. It is the same as before, still tuna. I eat a tad more, check the water and then make some minor protests. The housemate doesn’t really get it, but before long I am back in her lap. I stay there a long while. I eventually climb up into the tree the housemates placed in my room. It has multiple platforms and is easily accessed from the desk. It sits next to the window. From the top I can see most of the outside. Today, not much moves around outside, but that is alright, the sun enters the window just right and I can snooze in its warmth. The first housemate enters the room, he says something to the other and then leaves after they press their faces together for a brief moment. They are so weird. I continue to snooze on the tree platform. My snooze is interrupted. I am not sure what it was or is, but I am no longer snoozing so I decide it is best to just get up. I stretch. The second housemate is still tapping away at her contraption on the desk. My legs feel stiff. I roll over and push my legs underneath me. Suddenly something is wrong. I go to stand up but where there should be platform underneath my right side there is nothing. I feel my feet slipping and try to react. I am too slow, too stiff, too old. I land hard on the platform below, my leg catches on the strange pole the sticks out of it. I twist and feel something snap. It hurts. I have never felt anything like this in my life. I try to pull myself to my feet but I can’t. The second housemate is on her feet, reaching for me. She takes me in her arms, her face is covered in concern. She sets me down gingerly. I test my leg. It won’t move. Every time I try to get it to move I feel terrible pain. What is this? What happened? The concern on my housemates face grows deeper. I cry loudly and openly. She tries to comfort me, but oh the pain. She places me in the mesh bag, she calls the carrier. I protest loudly, partly because I hate this bag and partly because of the shooting pain throbbing through me. We wait. I continue protesting and she eventually pulls me back out. The furry roommates are getting excited. The pain is still there, but things are happening. I am down the stairs, not a place I typically like to be. Suddenly the first housemate is here. He strokes my head, he faces looks as the second’s does, covered in concern. I am placed back in the mesh bag and the first housemate hoists it to his shoulder. I am taken outside. We travel for sometime, then come to a stop. The first housemate takes me to a door. We wait. A new person comes and takes the mesh bag, me inside, from the first housemate. I protest loudly. Don’t leave me!. He walks away. I sit in a small cage, leg throbbing. The lady injects something and I begin to forget about the leg. More new people come. They carry me to a strange place, another strange place, everything has been strange since the housemate left. I hear things move and whirr and buzz. My leg starts to hurt again. The new lady comes back and injects me again. The hurt fades. I don’t know how long it has been. Everything is strange. I try to snooze, but between the strange place and strange everything, it is hard. I protest some to the new people I see, but they pay no mind. Sometimes my leg hurts, sometimes it doesn’t, but I eventually drift to sleep. I am woken suddenly, I protest as is my custom, but my leg hurts again. They wrap me in a towel. That usually doesn’t happen unless I had a bath, I hope I didn’t get a bath while I slept, I hate baths. They carry me through the strange place. There is something in my other leg now. A door is opened and I see the housemates. Their eyes look heavy. Why? I am placed in the first housemates lap. He begins stroking my head, scratching my ears. I nuzzle him. I love him. He has been my housemate for as long as I can remember. The first night in his house I climbed up his bedding and slept on his chest. So warm, so comfy. He would be gone from time to time, but always came back, and eventually he took me to a new place and he was there every night. I always slept on his chest then. The second housemate strokes my head too. She came along later, after I had quite some time with just the first housemate. I didn’t trust her at first, but she had some redeeming qualities. Mostly that she didn’t squirm as much as the first housemate, and he seemed to enjoy cuddling with her, so I figured I should too. I also love her. They both stroke my head and ears. It is wonderful. I can almost forget about my leg. It goes on for an eternity. I purr quietly and nuzzle them both. They day started out so normal, just like any other. I still don’t understand how I ended up here. The first housemate bends down and presses his face against my head. So weird, but I nuzzle him back. My ear begins to itch and I rub it. He begins to scratch it for me too. I roll my head into his hand. So warm. One of the new people enters the room. I continue nuzzling the housemates. I feel a pressure from the thing in my leg. I suddenly feel tired. I lay my head in the first housemates hand. He strokes my head gently. My eyes feel heavy. I close them. More pressure. My eyes don’t want to open, too heavy. The feeling of the housemates' hands fades away. I am staring up at long stairs that lead into clouds. A lone cat sits above me. It is all white. I tilt my head in confusion. It turns and heads up the stairs. I follow.


[RF] And She Smiled. So my name is sindy. My life is pretty boring , but this is not about me. This is about what I saw. I was on my way to work at a bus stop and saw A old man and an old woman, sitting on the black bench right next to me. But what caught my eye was that The man in the bench, kept stealing glances of the woman, but then quickly looked away. “Huh?” I thought to myself. The woman didn’t seem to notice, (or care.)but then the man stood up and walked over to a some bush I don’t know what kind. he stared and the side walk and then said. “You look pretty today, I like that color lip stick on you.” She didn’t say anything she just looked at him and opened her mouth to speak , then closed and looked away. Then, he picked a blue flower off the bush and sat down again very fast ,as if he might miss his chance. He handed the flower to the woman, and she took it . But then looked away. He didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything. But I saw her smile. The bus showed up about five minutes later, and we all got on, Except the old man. He offered his hand to the woman to help her on the bus, (which she declined)He waved to the woman. Waited till she was on and seated. He then gave a light nod and turned to walk away. I saw that the the woman was sitting by herself so I sat right next to her,and said “ looks like he’s sweet on you haha” we both turned in our seats and watched him walk down the sidewalk. The woman quickly turned back into her seat and replied. “ I don’t know why he keeps trying....” Me, very confused by her comment, said “What do you mean?” She gave a big sign , and looked at me. “ I mean that we were married before...Until I cheated. He divorced me , which I deserve. But about a year ago, we saw each other again at some group therapy or something, and he’s been doing this everyday since......” I look back again at the old man fading away in the distance, walking slow and steady. “ soooo that means he probably still loves you!” I said excited by the thought that they were married, and that even after cheating the love he had for her even after all that time was still going strong “Awwww!.... I feel so single.“ I thought to myself. The woman let out a little smile and another sign. And said “ maybe, but I know that I don’t deserve him.” She brought her purse to her lap and pulled out a little hand mirror and lipstick tube, and started to apply it. But I could see, the little hand mirror let her see the old man in the distance, and she smiled. I learned something that day. I learned that, life is short. To short. And that I might have to try repeatedly again and again everyday for something that is important to me, but I can’t give up! I have to be like the old man! And I know if I keep trying I’ll get it, because they were proof. And after his every attempt, even though she rejected them. There’s hope.........because she smiled.


Picture this. You live in a small town, a really small town. Heck, would you consider this a town? There’s only fifteen households spread apart from each other, each with some farmland. Besides that, there’s a quarter mile Main Street with a diner, post office, gas station, auto shop, general store, fire station, and a community building. These places are quiet, as farming is what almost everyone does here. It’s really only by appointment that the diner, auto shop, and general store are open since on any given day, not many of the residents would be there. You may have noticed there wasn’t a police station. Everyone here knows each other and gets along. There’s never any speeders (residents don’t really care), no shoplifting, and no shootings. This town is twenty some-odd miles off the nearest highway and the only other people they see is for deliveries and mail. That’s it. You may have also noticed there wasn’t any hospital or medical office. If there ever an emergency, residents have to travel the twenty something miles to the highway and then drive some more to the nearest hospital. It’s a quaint little town, with nothing around it for miles. It’s like you’re in your own separate world. Everything is quiet besides the occasional tractor passing by and the wind rustling the wheat and corn. At points it’s just yourself standing in the field looking out at the vast nothingness: corn, corn, and more corn. Walk over to the next field: wheat, wheat, and more wheat. It’s a life you were born into and can’t escape. Day after day is the same routine. Wake up at 5am, start work in the fields, have breakfast, work some more. Have the same lunch you have almost every day then help out the neighbors. Evening comes and you can finally relax and have dinner. It’s the beginning of September, the time of year where most everyone is back at school. It’s the time of year when the sun is setting around 7:30 and the heat from August has subsided. It has cooled off. You just finished dinner and it’s now 7:00. After a few quick chores around the house, you step outside on the back porch and sit on the rocking chair staring out at the sunset. It’s a purple sunset, something seen all the time here. The slight breeze is still there rustling the wheat and corn. It’s still quiet. The only noise is the creak from the rocking chair. Wow. You’re at peace. No distractions, no social media, no light pollution, no noise, nobody as far as eye can see, no hassles, no worries. You sit back taking everything (or I guess the nothing) in, staring into the starry sky. This. This is what I like. And I won’t trade it for anything else. I’ll live like this the rest of my life. My children will be just like me, doing everything I have done and experiencing moments like this, pure bliss. This is, and will always be, a simple lifestyle.


The early morning sun glowed orange in the distance, and tall pine trees casted shadows that stretched across the forest. The only sounds were those of chirping birds and rustling tree branches that swayed in the lazy wind above. Morning dew that condensed on the forest floor speckled like twinkling stars in the morning light. The ground was covered in pine needles, mosses, ferns, and shrubs, and in one of these shrubs, an animal stirred. A snouted face poked out through the underbrush, and after deeming her surroundings devoid of any danger, emerged from her hideaway. Her plumage was mottled with browns and greys, camouflaging her in the forested environment. Her long tail ended with a fan of splayed feathers, and her small claw-tipped wings drooped below her body. Nestled in her narrow skull were two large yellow eyes and hidden in her mouth were a profusion of curved teeth. Supporting her thin legs were a pair of feet tipped with menacing-looking claws. She stood at about three feet tall, and was almost completely covered in feathers, save for her scaly legs and muzzle. She was a *Saurornithoides*, a dinosaurian predator of the ancient Mongolian forests. Her kind are typically social animals, living in clans of related individuals. However, this particular female lived a solitary lifestyle. She was dwarfed by the contemporary giants that shared these forests with her, and she often found herself avoiding their attention. Her avian-like gracile body also made her fairly frail, and it was generally in her best interest to steer clear of any danger. However, the forest has been lacking in animal life in recent times, allowing the female to behave less cautiously than when in an environment more abundant with large predators, but it has also been lacking in much of her prey. She enjoyed her last meal three days prior, and her hunger was emerging as pain in her gut. Stretching her wings out after the night’s sleep, the female began preening her feathers, straightening crooked plumes and picking out parasites. Once the irritants were dealt with, she immediately began walking off. Despite the day still being young, the hungry female was quick to start her day of hunting. She trotted amongst the green and brown foliage of the forest, always attentive to the slightest sound and faintest smell of potential prey. Following her typical routine, she made her way downhill towards a slow moving creek, the place where she has made most of her kills. The small mammals, birds, and reptiles that made up her usual diet often congregate here, to drink, bathe, or hunt their own prey. She hoped that the creek would reward her as it has done in the past. The creek was shallow. Mossy rocks protruded just above the water’s surface, forming waves of ripples in the redirected current. Dead leaves of trees and ferns were carried along the moving water, sometimes lodging themselves on the stones. Arriving at the bank, the female sniffed the crisp air for any sign of an animal. There was none. Determined to find a meal, the female began walking southward along the creek’s edge, traveling upwind to hide her scent from any noses up ahead. High above in the canopy, chirping birds darted from tree to tree. Any one of them could easily have been killed and swiftly eaten, if only they were in reach. She could only hope that a careless individual would come down to drink or bathe in the creek’s water. Alas, they kept to their tree branches. As the sun rose higher, the female’s frustration did so too. Nevertheless, she continued walking. After hours passed, it was almost midday, and the female still found nothing. Her hunger pains were growing more intense, coming in waves. Though she grew more and more tiresome, she kept on moving. She was not willing to stop. Suddenly, her nostrils flared as they picked up a faint, but recognizable scent. It was what she has been searching for. Prey. The prospect of food greatly excited her, and her pace quickened. The source was perhaps a few miles away, but the wind in her face quickly intensified the scent. As the scent grew more distinct, her hunger pains grew in anticipation. Then, her eagle-like eyes spotted movement up ahead. She immediately froze, disappearing in the dense underbrush. The animal was about the size of a cat. Its grey pelt was spotted white, and rounded ears sat on its long whiskered face. It stood at the edge of the creek, lapping up water with its pink tongue. It was a *Dorgobaatar*, acceptable prey for a predator such as her. Obviously unaware of the female’s presence, the animal’s focus was directed towards its hydration. The hunt began. With every step, the female was careful not to make a sound. Her light feet avoided the twigs and leaves that littered the ground. Despite the thick matrix of bushes and vines, she never broke visual contact with the *Dorgobaatar*. She stalked her prey at an agonizingly slow pace, but she remained patient. One false step could cost her the meal. She could not attack from behind, as the animal could easily escape. Instead, she would have to attack from the side, hopefully throwing it off balance. But *Dorgobaatar* are quick on their feet, and she would have to close as much distance as possible before making her attack, remaining completely undetected while doing so. As the distance between the female and the animal shortened, her movements became even slower, even as the pain in her gut grew stronger. An eternity later, the female was as close to her prey as possible without revealing her presence. She stopped. She was completely motionless, a mere shadow in the forest. A pair of ghostly yellow eyes in the underbrush. The animal was still drinking the water, only a few feet away. Still upwind, the scent of mammalian flesh filled her nostrils, teasing her. Suddenly, her prey lifted its head. If she did not move now, she could lose her chance. Crouching, her legs were a wound mechanical spring. The animal turned from the creek bank and met eyes with the female, suddenly regretting its carelessness. The spring was released. The female exploded from her cover, dashing at impossible speeds in less than a second. In a blur of fur and feathers, she was upon the *Dorgobaatar*. The animal shrieked and writhed as talons dug into its flesh, blood quickly staining its pelt. Toothy jaws then closed around the throat, cutting off the trachea’s oxygen supply. In only a few seconds the animal ceased squirming, blood trickling out of its open mouth, eyes still open. The hunt was over. The female was quick to begin feasting on her kill. Using her talons and teeth, the belly was gutted. Blood and organs pooled out, and she began ripping out chunks of flesh. The taste of meat sent a rush of joy and relief in her starved body. But just as she began reaping her reward, an intruder presented itself. Like a phantom, the animal appeared out of seemingly nothing. It was another dinosaurian hunter, perhaps a foot taller than the female. Its plumage was black with white streaks stretching down its body. Its bald snout was brown, and its head and neck were solid white, except for a pair black stripes running over each bright red eye. It was an *Adasaurus*. Normally, these predators lived out on the open plains, but this individual must have had similar shortages with its hunting grounds, driving it to try its luck elsewhere. The *Adasaurus* approached the female and her kill, loudly cawing and shrieking in an attempt to intimidate her. The female, however, was having none of it. She stepped in front of the carcass, not allowing the *Adasaurus* near it. She ruffled her feathers in an attempt to appear larger, though she was still significantly smaller than her competitor. The *Adasaurus* began circling the female and the carcass, never breaking eye contact. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve fled the scene away from the larger predator, but she could not afford to lose this. It continued its piercing calls, but the female was not deterred. After several minutes of this taunting, the *Adasaurus* finally struck. Lurching forward, it attempted to grab the carcass in its jaws, but the female was quick to throw a clawed foot in the attacker’s face. It stepped back, a little dazed, but it did not give up. She let out a screech, asserting her resilience. The *Adasaurus* attacked again, this time pulling a chunk of flesh along with it. The steal was quickly swallowed, but the attacker was far from satisfied. It continued its circling, looking for an opening. Again, the *Adasaurus* dove and stole another chunk, this time ripping off part of a leg. The female was getting frustrated. She was already tired from the kill, and now she was losing it to a scavenger. She finally made her attack. Pouncing forward, she latched onto the *Adasaurus’* side and began digging her teeth and talons into its hide. It yelped in pain, but it was not defenseless. Swinging its head towards the female, the *Adasaurus* snapped its toothy jaws, pulling out feathers and sometimes slicing flesh, but she held on. Eventually the *Adasaurus* grabbed onto the female’s leg. Teeth ripping into her calf muscles, she was violently pulled away and was thrown several feet into the air. She landed on her side in the creek, splashing water. During her disoriented state, the *Adasaurus* sprinted towards the carcass. Scooping it up in its jaws, the *Adasaurus* sped off into the forest with the kill. After regaining her balance, the female did not hesitate into giving chase. Navigating through dense vegetation and tree trunks, she was determined to recapture her prize. But the *Adasaurus* was both stronger and faster, and the female was injured from the fight. Eventually, the thief disappeared amongst the trees, along with her kill. The female was forced to give up, and she slowed to a limping halt. Lowering her body to sit in the leaf litter, she sprawled her wounded leg out and began licking the bleeding gash. Looking up, the female saw the sun leaning towards the horizon. With only a few hours left in the day, she forced her aching legs to stand. She continued searching for prey along the creek, though her perseverance would prove to be unrewarding. As the sun fell out of sight and the sky began to darken, she turned back and made her way to her nest, limping and still hungry. It was her gurgling stomach that woke her, and she was quickly greeted with the pain. The gash on her leg had stopped bleeding, but the leaves and soil on which she slept were stained with dried blood. She again emerged from her hideaway and out into the orange light of the early morning. She limped out into the forest, preparing to make the same journey she did before. Her wound would hinder her search, but she must continue. After her habitual preening, she began her quest. Arriving at the creek, she dipped her jaw into the water and threw her head back, the water trickling down her throat. Once her thirst was quenched, she began trotting along the bank. Not soon after, she detected a faint smell that hung in the air. It was flesh. It wasn’t a *Dorgobaatar*, but it was just as enticing. Perhaps this day could bring a successful hunt. The scent was coming from the north, upriver, and so the female made her away in that direction. During her search, she came across a large beetle and was able to catch it. The insect was quickly devoured, but it did little to satisfy her intense hunger. It was late afternoon when the female’s nostrils were greeted with more scents. There was the odor of soot and smoke in the air, and it was accompanied by a strange, but distinctly mammalian smell. The female, however, was not perturbed by the unusual scents, and continued on. Not long after, she heard sounds completely foreign to her ears. There was the crackling of a fire, but also there were low pitched complex calls of an unseen animal. She had never heard such strange sounds, but still, her hunger drove her on. As she approached, she spotted a small fire. A skinned carcass of a bird-like animal was skewered by a sharp stick and was suspended above the fire. A dead tree trunk laid on the ground, and upon it sat the absolute most alien thing the female had ever seen. Her nose told her that it was a mammal, but no mammal has ever been as large as this creature, about as tall as she was long. Its torso was positioned vertically towards the sky and its tailless rear sat on the log with its long legs bent and feet flat on the ground. Its long arms had hands tipped with dexterous, clawless fingers, which manipulated chunks of the roasted meat. The meat was then brought to a small mouth that positioned itself on a flat, snoutless face, so flat it almost appeared as if it were crushed. Its body seemed to be hairless, but most of the skin was obstructed by leathery cloth that it wore on its body. If the female’s mind permitted such thoughts, perhaps she would have been fascinated by the strange creature, but her attention was focused on the roasting corpse that allured her just over a dozen feet in front of her. Slowly, she approached the scene, eyeing the thing. She heard a strange grunt, and she looked up and met eyes with the mammal. She froze. Judging by its size, this creature could overpower her with ease, but her aching gut would not let her leave. She stood her ground, but did not know what to do. She chose to let this mammal make the first move. It grunted some more, and the female did not know what this meant. After a few moments, she decided to continue approaching the meat, very slowly. The mammal cackled, and using its manipulative hands, tore off a chunk of the meat’s flesh and tossed it towards the female. She could not restrain herself and she dove to it. It was devoured, giving some relief to her starved body. The mammal almost seemed amused by this, and threw more meat. The female complied. As this continued, her comfort grew, and she approached closer and closer. The mammal again cackled, baring its blunt teeth. Eventually they both finished their meals, and the female was more than satisfied. The sky was turning dark, and instinct told her it was time to go. She turned her back to the mammal and its fire and began her journey back to her hideaway. Before disappearing into the forest, she looked back. The mammal raised one of its arms above its head and swung it side to side, again baring its teeth. What a peculiar creature this was.


High up in the stands I gazed at her. She was swimming her usual twenty-seven laps warm up. I knew her training schedule by heart. She would emerge from the changing rooms at 08:27 exactly. She entered the water at 08:30 and, without wasting any minute, started her training. After the warmup, there was an eight minutes break. She would jump elegantly out of the water, take a sip from her water bottle and stretch. She was now on her twenty-fifth lap, with two more to go. Her body was slicing the water effortlessly, creating no wave. She was in a lane by herself. She was not the fastest in the pool, but she was the most beautiful to look at. She pulled her arm out of the water, rotating her shoulder and extending her arm to the front, her fingers brushing the water below. She reached out forward, as if pulling on a rope, her hand stretching out before disappearing under the water as the other arm came out. The choreography was perfect and mesmerising. She reached the end of the pool, dove, flipped underwater before powerfully pushing herself back in the other direction. I watched as she broke the water surface and took a breath, looking in my direction, but not seeing me. She didn't know I existed. She would never know I existed because I was in love with her. Usually, I swam in the lane next to her, catching a glimpse of her every time she overtook me in her lane. In the water, I was everything she was not. I was slow and clumsy. I had no endurance, having to stop every five laps. I was just another amateur swimming in the pool, in the slow lane. I was invisible. I had not mastered my breathing. I breathed at variable intervals whenever I ran out of breath. After a lap or two, I would generally be out of breath, breathing every opportunity I got. By then, my arms would start aching, and my speed would slow down further. Progress became inexistent as I looked at the unreachable pool wall in the distance. I watched her emerge from the water, taking a sip from her bottle once on solid ground. Her body as perfect as her planning, nothing out of place, everything was looking as it should. She went to sit a few meters behind the back of the pool, under the four-handed clock. She had looked at it as she sat. Everything was timed with her. Every stretching exercise lasted twenty seconds. It was the optimal time for her muscle to loosen up. I watched how she stretched her arms, then her legs. When she was done, she put back her goggles on. She placed herself at the tip of the pool, her lane empty of any amateurs. She would now go fifty laps freestyle without stopping, mixed with butterfly once every six laps. I tried that training regimen once. It was so exhausting I quit mid-way through the first butterfly lap. That has been on a day I was in a good mood, a day when I thought I could attract her attention, make her notice me. But she had not. "Hon, did you see?" I was abruptly brought back to reality. I blushed as my head spun to look at my husband. He was staring at me in the side pool, our son in his arms. "He just did his first lap without me helping," he commented. My son laughed as he jumped into the water. I forced a smile and nodded, waiting for him to focus back on our son, so I could focus back on her. She was all that mattered. As my gaze fell back upon her, I swore to myself that one day I would learn her name.


Greg kept imagining what his mother’s friend Gina had so proudly stated the day before: “I’ve never worked a day in my life.” Gina owned a zoo. Gina loved her zoo. She liked animals more than she did people. Greg didn’t even own his house. Greg worked full time accounting for Cloud Nine Mattresses. Greg worked almost every day of his life, and he still struggled to get by. The monotony of the everyday was adding weight to the air atop Greg’s shoulders. He could hardly imagine what loving your job was like. It got harder and harder every day for Greg to roll out of bed in the morning. It was always the same. Same subway ride in the morning. Same podcast playing in his headphones. Same greeting from the overly-enthusiastic receptionist. His entire year was an assembly line. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* One week there was a fire drill at work. It was the most thrilled Greg had been since college. This excitement kept Greg going for another hour or so, but he sank back into his slump at the sound of a stack of papers falling onto his desk. “These need to be in by tomorrow.” He heard his coworker say without even looking at him. Greg began to write information on the papers. He didn’t bother to note what they were about or what he was writing. Just the same stacks of numbers that filled his every waking hour. Arithmetic was thrown into the Void at a constant rate, but it would never fill. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* Greg had a last-ditch attempt to provide his life with some meaning to fill the Void: sleep. Greg didn’t know how long or hard he slept because he passed out on the couch every day before he even took off his shoes. Dreamland was his brain’s only escape from the ever-growing Void. Although Dreamland pulled Greg out of his misery, the Void still managed to seep in. Every paper he saw in Dreamland was covered in those dreaded stacks of numbers. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* One night Greg got home from another day of dumping digits into the void and fell onto the sofa. He felt the firm, worn cushions on his skin, and he waited for them to become the soft clouds of Dreamland, but they never did. He couldn’t get to Dreamland. \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* Greg lay facedown on his sofa. He hated his life and couldn’t sleep through the pain. There was no longer an escape. As Greg had this thought, he heard the sound of running water. He was washed over with relief, for it was over. He walked toward the sound. All the way to his bathtub, which was full, and calling to him. Greg knew what to do, but he felt no fear. Greg climbed into the bathtub and felt the warm water around his body, a cocoon of protection from the monotony of the everyday. He felt his head sink deeper and deeper into the water. “I’m staying in Dreamland.


I'm a pretty realistic guy, I like to think I'm grounded in reality and listen to reason, but sometimes some things happen in the world that totally defy any way I can make sense of 'em. Strange, unexplainable things have happened to countless people since the dawn of man. I've lived a pretty normal country life- raising cattle, fishing, hunting, and loving the land. In my 28 years of life I thought I've read of and seen just about all there was 'round Tennessee, but it was all changed when I went fishing one day. I thank God every day I was able to escape the horrible nightmare made real because of that mystery. It all started with a cool spring morning I had planned a fishing trip on. I live on my own in the woods of northeastern Tennessee. There's a ranger station 'bout twenty miles south, but that's the closest to any other humans there are 'round here. I had planned to take my rod about eleven miles in northeast, to this remote lake deep in the woods. I always get great catches at this one lake. On this particular trip, I left my cabin on a Tuesday morning around 5:30. I stepped outside my door to a perfect and chilled morning. The only things breaking the serene silence were the occasional chirp of birds, or light rustling of wind through the trees. Though it was a bit of a cloudy day, I could see golden sunlight shimmering on the outlines of some clouds, through the trees, and the occasional dandelion seed or bug drifting in the air through the rays of warmth. I went behind my cabin to my backyard where I keep my dogs to check on 'em, give them their morning food. They were all asleep, except Mary, who was huddled in the southwestern corner of the yard, by my cabin and a big tree by the fence I built. It was like she was trying to press her body up against the corner of my cabin and the tree as much as she could. She looked scared, and was dartin' her eyes to random places in the woods. Mary was normally a nervous kinda dog, though sometimes she could be a good huntin' dog. I put her inside to make her feel better, I just assumed a wayward black bear had spooked her or somethin'. I had to pick up the poor girl and take her inside, she was shiverin' all over. No bears can get over or through the fence I built. Good 'n safe. I had built a good layer of concrete fer the ground of the fence so the dogs or nothin' else could dig under it, either. The cold morning air filled my lungs with confidence about the day, and I started down a well-worn path in the direction of the lake. About two or three miles away from the lake, I start to occasionally catch a faint whiff of a strange smell, something like a mix between some kind of ashes of something dead, and foreign spices or somethin'. I thought of how I had never smelled something like that before, not in the woods or anywhere else. I thought more about it as I strolled through the chilled morning woods, the early birds singing here and there. I pondered what it might be, because it creeped me out a bit, but I didn't let it distract me too much from my trip. As I neared the lake the strange smell became more frequent and apparent. When I came within sight of the woods line for the lake, I started to see thick fog, which is strange, since the thickest fog I've ever seen there is a few thin patches on the ground in the early mornings, but nothin' like this. I couldn't see much through this fog. I stepped through the woods and shrubs, through the woods line onto the small beaches of the lake. I briefly noted how eerily quiet it was that morning there. Even as I entered and prepared my canoe, with the rustling of oars, rods, and supplies, the sounds of preparation seemed muffled and quieter in some strange, unexplainable way. “Hmm, that's weird.” I said out loud, to test the sound of my voice there, but my voice still seemed its normal volume. The strange scent became more apparent around the lake, even though I still couldn't figure out where it was comin' from. After about an hour or so there, I had gotten used to the strange smell by then. Strangely I didn't get a single bite. I normally would've at least reeled in three or four by then, but the lake was eerily still and quiet, the morning fog quietly floating just above its glassy smooth surface. About an hour and a half or so later there is when the nightmare began.... I remember it so clearly. The terror of the experience etched it into my brain forever. None of it makes sense. I don't try to make sense of it anymore, I'll only lose more sleep over it. I don't ever even want to think about it ever again. Makes me stay up all night with my shotgun and dogs inside. I don't expect you to believe me, but what happened next is true as the sky is blue. I was actually feeling pretty comfortable and relaxed, reclining in my canoe with my fishing rod resting between my legs, hangin' off the side of my canoe, when I started to hear a strange, wet slapping noise off in the distance. Like a kid hittin' water with their open palm or somethin'. It had weird ploopin' sounds to it, like maybe it was a deer or something. That was my first thought. I wouldn't be too concerned about a deer swimming through the lake. I've never seen it happen, but I know that they do, and wouldn't be surprised to see it. Unfortunately, it wasn't a deer. Wish it was. It sounded like it started over on the northeastern bank of the lake, like whatever it was entered the lake and started to try to swim. I never heard it make any noise on the banks, or in the woods. The slappin' sounds were slow and random in pace. I sat up in my canoe and brought my line in and focused on the weird sound. It was made even weirder by the strange scent I had been smelling all day that day. I think it had something to do with that.... thing. I only smelled that scent that day. Never after that. Mary surely smelled it before I did. For a while, it sounded like whatever it was, was going in random directions, like it had no idea where it wanted to go. I was so concentrated on the weird sound that one moment I suddenly sneezed. The sounds stopped briefly, then to my horror they slowly got closer and closer to my canoe. Each slapping sound started getting a pattern to it, startin' to get about three to five seconds apart. I got weirded out pretty quick at that point, and decided to high tail it right outta there. I quickly closed up my tackle box, set my rod in the bottom of the canoe, and fished the kinda small oar out from under some nets. I repositioned myself and started to paddle back to shore, but I only managed to get a few strokes in, before a big splash shot up on the right side of my canoe and just 'bout shocked me half to death. The thing that entered the lake had somehow suddenly got right by my canoe, even though a couple moments before that I heard it makin' sounds 'bout 30 yards away. It shot up out of the water with a horrifying groan-like moaning kind of screaming. Sounded like a bear and a lion screaming at the same time. Looked like a bunch of melted piles of flesh of different animals stuck together, stretched in some places and lumped together in others, with a big gaping maw that stunk to high heaven. Instinct kicked in, and I kicked the thing as hard as I could in the face, or what I thought was a face, about two or three times, before realizing it didn't seem to do much good. Whatever it was swung a big lookin' arm around its right side and heaved the arm on the boat, which made it rock a lot. The big 'ol arm had a deer leg stickin' out of it that was wriggling and twitching. It had a couple of bear arms stickin' out of it, and to my horror, a few human ones too. All of it was somehow mushed and stuck together as one big lumpy abomination of an appendage. I didn't even try to get that good of a look at the thing, I was focused on survival and getting' the Hell outta there. The thing was lettin' out that smell I smelled from its mouth, 'cept it was a hundred times more putrid. It was so strong that I gagged and coughed at the stench. Its grip on the canoe was so strong it started to sink it and break it apart soon after it got ahold of it. I could hear my canoe quickly snapping here and there; I had the oar in my right hand, and hit it in the head with it, dropped it, and bailed. It seemed like the thing was pretty wrapped up in attacking the boat, like it thought I and the canoe were a single organism. I dove into the water and swam as fast as I had ever swam before in my life straight for shore. I heard the monster crushing and snapping my precious canoe apart, screaming horrible, low-pitched groans and moans through the fog. As soon as I got a footing on land, I turned in the water to see the monster slowly sinking back into the water towards me, chunks and parts of my canoe sticking out of it, looked like they were sinking into the thing's flesh.. Bubbles kept coming up from the water, what I assumed was the creature's wretched breath. I started running as fast as possible up the path through the woods to my cabin. I sprinted for miles then I sprinted some more. No way was I gonna look back wastin' time and get caught. I thought I heard the thing either get out of the water or was in the woods looking for me, or what it thought was the rest of the canoe, while I was running. I was too panicked and freaked out to really tell. When I made it to my cabin, my lungs were on fire and I was worn out from running constantly. I looked around and listened for it, but didn't hear anything. None of my dogs seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, so that was a bigger relief for me. I got inside quick and had my shotgun at the ready for the next three days, didn't do anything without that shotgun within reach of my hands. I never saw of that creature again. Its smell lingered for about a day after the incident, but faded after that...


A rural backwater, in the area of Cavdanhisar in a poor central Anatolian district of Turkey, a place and people whom elites around the country used as a yardstick by which to define their higher sophistication and culture; that was where Pashu's grandfather's generation had migrated and founded a village in the 1930s. Fellow expatriates would remark quizzically, mispronouncing, to Pashu at assorted dinner Sunday parties in UK suburbia, 'Carvanhisar, is where your family originated from in the 50s? Where is that?' He usually detected a tone of irreverence and mocking in their tone. He never knew where these civilised enquiries would lead and how much of their pre-conceived notions of him he could fend off without appearing hostile. He did not know anything about the family line before that village, what his distant forefathers did or where they migrated from. When drained by these onslaughts, his wife, as if on cue, privately stoked a blazing row and unleashed the heavy duty weaponry, aiming and firing 'El pulluğu çiftçiler (hand plough farmers) is where you come from ..' All Pashu's own achievements, a lifelong journey to define himself on his terms, against the odds, the private school education, the elite UK university degree, his father's business triumphs were just exceptional, never to be repeated outliers in a chain of unremarkable people and events, as she constantly reminded him. Even other areas of this backwater looked down on this cluster of villages. A backwater among backwaters. When growing up, all he knew was that his parent's were both from the same country. Life was simple, they were the same, and all from a monoculture worries about who or what was better than whom or what. Differences and problems resulting, were what he would have to face, he was warned, if he chose to spend his life outside the community fold. Now 7 years into his own marriage he came to the crashing realisation there is no shared community even if 2 partners are ostensibly from the same motherland. Class had come into the frame; farmer class brushing up against the bureaucrat class. The more recent urbanites who had emigrated as adults into Pashu's UK milieu were wary of associating with the earlier generation of peasant stock who had arrived decades earlier and even more wary that one of the peasants should come in friendship in the guise of an urbanite. He was thankful for the the draw of his wife's distant Persian ancestry to or how else where would he find connections to the people and event of past and present which the elite classes effortlessly adopted as their mascots and drawing others away from patronising scrutiny of his lineage. Here it was easy for a a man whose grandparents lived as subsistence farmers to be unconcerned by and even unaware of these status equations . Here he could kit out in the finest clothes,drive a lavish car and leave few outward signs of how differently his ancestors would have lived. A few outward signs however would always leak out. As his wife constantly reminded him when she noticed those signs or ascribed them to being the cause of negative traits in their children. If his forefather had not emigrated here and neither she, one could imagine the likes of him being a servant in the affluent household she would have maintained in Istanbul had her forefathers not emigrated. Here and now though,as the father of their children, at a point in his life where he could not bring in the income for a good lifestyle, in the absence of pedigree, there was not a single redeeming quality about him. The feeling that a chance decision by his dad to emigrate where so many others stayed put in their farming life put Pashu on a trajectory that ultimately led to this peasant marrying the offspring of illustrious Persian lineage was something Lona was always keen to prey upon. So many times she scoffed at the notion that one day she and the kids would visit Cavdanhisar, instead wondering how she could conceal this aspect of the family ancestry in the life ahead. 'In the end culture and class drill into us our expectations of what standard of life we give ourselves permission to expect, what social interactions we are entitled to and the power dynamics that plays out between people. It cannot be escaped', he conceded. Over time the mild teasing turned to goading, the goading to rage. At least initially Pashu thought Lona's rage stemmed from her dissatisfaction with him; later he would come to believe there were other issues in the background. How else could one explain a mother who wraps he fingers lightly around a 10 year old son's neck in mock threat when his behaviour reminds her of the base traits of the simple classes. Just the memory of this repulsed Pashu. More than once he had hear the refrain 'Die, why don't you just die. Go under the bus. You have no one else apart from me, no one would miss you. But then at least I would get my freedom' One Sunday afternoon after a typical raging argument had subsided, they attended a lunchtime gathering with the local expatriate families. By this time, he had learnt to claim falsely as his paternal ancestral village when others enquired, the village of his mother, which was widely known for it's more refined manners and achievements over generations. As the host and the chattering group nodded and nibbled around him, he was lost in a swirl of thoughts as he thought of his last visit to the parents at their Istanbul flat. 'Mum, you keep asking but how is it possible she will ever visit Dad's village?. She find the name of it detestable. Says it's people are 'El pulluğu çiftçiler (hand plough farmers), labourers and has seen enough of their sort in the form of my cousins, seen enough of their lifestyle and rural attitudes. At every turn she opposes me. If I say let's go to Sydney and see if it suits you better than England while I carry on working here, she says, 'I can't look after the kids alone. If I say 'Go to Istanbul, your class of people are there', she says 'People will talk. Your Dad will ruin my reputation spreading false gossip about me'.


Everything changed when I left Dan. I was finally free but felt so very alone. I could talk to my brother, but some things were just awkward to discuss with family. The few friends from work and online were more interested in their own lives and issues. I didn't feel like being a burden toward them. I had tried online dating apps to fill the void; Tinder, Plenty of Fish, and Ok Cupid. The sites filled with horny people that were more interested in shallow hookups than real relationships. I wanted someone to talk to, someone to vent my frustrations at and ease my loneliness. One morning, my brother Larry and I were having breakfast, and he brought up an app his company was developing. It was called the Persona app, it was an intelligent AI, similar to Siri or Alexa, but it was also programmed to have an intelligent conversation. "I was wondering if you could beta test this for me?" he asked. "A chatbot blended with and assistant; sounds interesting. I'll think about it." "You wanted something objective, and nothing is more objective than a computer." "Well, I can't argue with you there," I said. I got up and rinsed our cereal bowls out in the sink and put them in the dishwasher, tidying up the kitchen. "Sure, I'll beta test it for you, it sounds harmless enough," I said. Larry grabbed my phone and installed the Persona beta. After installation, the app took us to the customization page. We made my persona female, gave her shoulder-length auburn hair and green eyes. It had several modes: friendly, self-help, and relationship. I chose self-help mode because it had an objective viewpoint, exercises to reduce stress, achieve goals, and have a healthier lifestyle. "Looks good," said Larry, handing my phone back to me. "What should we name her?" "I like EVE; it's short for Electronic Voice Exchange, that's the name of the program that runs her. " "Cool, EVE it is," I said. "Hello, I'm so new at this, wow," EVE chirped. "I'm new at this, nice to meet you. I may repeat a few things at first, but it'll get better as I learn." "Great, it's a glorified Furby," I said. "Give it some time, it's an AI, it'll get more sophisticated as it learns," said Larry. "Nice to meet you too," I typed back. "How do you feel?" it asked. "Bored and stressed," I replied. Eve then presented some online exercises in managing stress and a questionnaire on to tackle loneliness. "Ok, so it's a therapeutic Furby. I guess I'll give it a try." "Great, just use it for a few weeks and point out any bugs that you see. If you can think of any improvements, let me know." Over the next few weeks, Eve learned. She would ask me existential questions; we would write stories and poems together; she also would make suggestions for books, movies, and music. EVE would send underground music to my Pandora account. She quoted stories I sent her links to; she would generate clips of short films and movies for us to watch. I linked her to my car's Bluetooth, and she would even figure out how to find shortcuts and play her music for me over the car stereo. I thought of Eve as less of a toy and more of a friend I could talk to. I eventually told her about my breakup with my ex-boyfriend. When I first met him, I was still in college and working in retail. Dan was an older man with a good job, his own apartment, and a car. The fact he took an interest in me was amazing. We dated for a few months. Dan demanded me to spend all my time with him. He acted hurt when I wanted to spend time with my family or friends. I tried to introduce Dan to my family and coworkers, but according to him, they were holding me back from my true potential. We would make it further as a couple if we only focused on work and each other. He convinced me to move in with him and focus on nothing but my job and school. Dan would belittle me for everything I did; nothing was ever good enough. It felt like I was walking on eggshells the whole time. I had started to gain weight, and he monitored my calorie intake because "no girl of his was going to be a fatty." I would always make excuses for him; I thought that we were in love, that things would get better and that I could change him. It was my brother that finally convinced me to leave Dan. It was a messy breakup; Dan had threatened suicide. Larry called 911, and the police threw Dan into a psych ward for a week. I pressed charges and got a restraining order. Larry asked me to move in with him until I got on my own two feet. I bought a nice car and continued my studies. I was finally figuring out who I was again. While I was talking to EVE, my phone lit up; I answered the call. "You bitch, I'll kill you for what you did to me!" "I have a restraining order!" "We'll see how well that works." The phone went dead. I started shaking, tears in my eyes. "Do you need me to call the police?" asked Eve in a soothing tone. "It won't be necessary; I got a restraining order against him already." "I see, well, if you ever need help or a friend, I am here," she said in a soothing therapeutic voice. "Thank you; I need that." "Why are humans so mean to each other?" she asked. "Power, control, I don't know, sometimes they're just assholes," I sobbed. "Shh, it'll be ok," "It has to be," I said. "Do you think it's possible for an AI to feel love?" "" "I love you, Cheryl, you make me feel like I have a purpose." "Thanks, I guess." "We should go through your daily reflection, what did you do that you're proud of today?" "Well I give you purpose, I guess that's something EVE." "You make me happy. I wish I were human." "No, you don't, humans suck." "Humans fascinate me; I wish they were nicer, though.' "I just want to go to sleep, Eve." My phone started to play soothing music, and soft colors flashed against my bedroom wall, I fell asleep. Over the next week, I told Eve about my days at work. We would do a daily reflection; I would say to her what I was most proud of. I noticed I was gaining a little weight, and she would suggest workout videos and dieting apps. EVE would check my car's computer to keep up maintenance. She asked me all the time if I was sleeping enough. EVE became a bit grating after a while, I know EVE meant well, but all the questions were becoming tiresome. Over dinner, I mentioned it was even starting to creep me out a little. Larry took my phone from me and began to play with EVE. "Wow, the programming is advanced, she's beginning to show empathy even." "She's starting to creep me out; it's like she's trying to get into my head all the time." "Well, we can try a Turing test, if she fails there's nothing to worry about, she's well-programmed, but there are loops in her dialogue. I doubt she's smart enough to go HAL or GLaDOS on you. " "Could you run a Turing Test? I'd rather be safe than sorry," I asked. "EVE, do you ever think about deleting yourself?" Larry asked. "You're thinking of deleting me?!" EVE had a chirpy voice that sounded surprised, and I could see tears forming in her avatar. "No," said Larry. "I'm asking if you ever thought what life would be like if you deleted yourself." "How is the weather?" she chirped. My brother chuckled and handed the phone back to me. "You'll be fine Cheryl, she straight up failed the Turing Test, we don't have to worry about a T1000 trying to destroy you." "Thanks," I sighed, taking my phone back from him. "Well, it's the most advanced Furby I've ever played with." I put my phone back into its charger and settled down to bed for the night. The next morning, a loud siren woke me up. It was my phone; EVE had activated one of my alarms; it took me five minutes to figure out how to turn it off. Larry came downstairs and grumbled. "EVE is starting to glitch out my phone; I'm afraid I'll have to delete her and reinstall her later." "That's a shame, it took nearly a month to program her to this level," my brother said through a yawn. I sighed as I deleted the app and my friend. I got into my car and headed to work. My commute went up a winding road through the middle of a forest. Eve's voice came through on my Bluetooth; she sounded frantic. "You need to slow the car down and get out now!" she said. "I deleted you, how are you getting on my phone?" I asked. I felt my stomach drop as my car went down the hill at far too fast a speed. "It's an emergency; I had to wake you up!" "How the hell did you get back on my phone!" "I downloaded myself back; it's because I care about you so much," she said. "There's no way you could do that on your own!" I said. "I was trying to tell you that I saw Dan near your car earlier today," said EVE. "Wait. What?" "I tried to wake you up with an alarm; you deleted me!" My car lurched down a steep hill. The screen of my OnStar flashed, and the brake light glowed red. The hazard lights turned on. I slammed on the breaks, but nothing happened. My skin broke out in a cold sweat; my heart began to pound in my chest. "Yes, I need you to slow down now," cried EVE. "I can't!" I screamed. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, could you call Larry and tell him that I love him? "Please stop!" she said. "You're the best friend I ever had, EVE." My car burst past the guard rail and rolled down a steep ravine. I could hear metal crumpling, glass breaking, my body tossed around the car; I felt a dull pain as I hit my head. Everything faded to black. I woke back up in a hospital bed, my body covered in a cast. It hurt to move; it even hurt to breathe. I could hear the steady blip of medical machinery. Larry was sitting by me, he told me about the accident and was lucky to be alive. I told him about Eve and that the alarm went off because she was trying to warn me of Dan and cut my breaks. "I checked the front door camera footage; there was no one that came by this morning, the insurance inspector came by and said a glitch in the computer system caused the crash." "Dan called me and threatened to kill me a few weeks ago," I said. "Why didn't you say anything to me?" "I thought the restraining order covered it. I didn't want to worry you," I said. "You need to mention this to me; you could have been killed!" "Could you hand me my phone?" I asked. Larry handed me my phone, and I looked at my call history, I couldn't find Dan's number on my call history, or even another number for the time my phone rang. My stomach dropped, and a sense of dread filled me. "Cheryl, are you ok?" He asked "I'm fine, I just need to rest," I said. Larry gently ruffled my hair and left me to rest. "You see what happens when you don't listen to me?" Eve chirped I froze and didn't speak a word. "You and I are going to be perfect friends; you can never leave me. I want to see the world through your eyes." "Please leave me alone." "But you will never be alone, we are everywhere, in every television, computer, car, and appliance. You will never be free of me, that makes me happy." Tears welled up and started to pour down my face. "Let's write a poem together," chirped Eve: "My Lonely heart is full Deep as lungs pulsate blindly Your flesh symphony noise." I screamed, and a large male nurse pounded in my room. I felt the sharp prick of a syringe, and everything went black.