text: Everything sucks, thought Brian as he got out of bed, groggy and numb from the night before. The empty beer can fell to the floor when he went to grab his phone off the charger. His head was pounding but he needed something to wake him up, something to energize him. Twelve notifications chimed when the phone finally turned on as he sat on the toilet. Most of them were Likes on his posts that he quickly swiped away. The Instanews app opened automatically, based on the phone’s learned behavior. His feed popped up and he began scrolling. The first news stories were about the Washington Brownies making it to the playoffs, which he skipped quickly. He glossed over the cartoon memes, recipes, and editorials about how video games were becoming cash-grab remakes. Spacing out through the feed he realized he had been scrolling for pages. The stories filled him with emptiness and blank glances. A painting of a woman with large cleavage gave him pause but he swiped up on this as well. An image of a burning field caught his attention, the red and orange flame leapt off the screen. The story read, “12 dead in Australian wildfire.” The blaze had consumed several houses. His mouth was agape and his finger rested above the screen. He kept scrolling and came across an article about a poisoned water supply plant in Dillonstown, only four hours away. He clicked and read the story. Conspiracy surrounded the incident with suspects ranging from the leader of a socialist group to the right-leaning mayor. The comments consisted of several arguments about the injustices being committed against both sides. He read every comment as his eyes dilated. Pressing back, he returned to the feed and found another post several posts down, below the ad for a digital home security system and pictures of metal bands, about an agricultural article about worsening storms. The storms were said to be the product of environmental damage caused by a lack of emissions reduction. Users suggested that this was the fault of the government. Brian flushed the toilet and remained glued to his phone, staring closer, becoming more alert. Another ad flashed by of a skull in a dark backdrop. The word, “Doom” appeared but he was already on the next story. This time it was local news. A couple had been found dead in their home. Police suspect foul play when their bodies were found in the living room. A mysterious third party may have been involved. He tagged the story for updates while downing chilled coffee from the fridge and considering buying a security system. A spree of break-ins was the subject of another post. The author speculated that it was tied to some new delivery service. He scrolled faster, looking for something to pique his interest. He was feeling down when he couldn’t find anything and he put his phone down in defeat. That was until his virtual assistant chimed in, “From Science Alert: Baboons in eastern California have shown signs of a new virus that can be transmitted to humans.” He was compelled to scroll again, shooting down the page with a flick of his finger. The skull appeared again. He scrolled back, curious as to what kind of scam the ad was offering, but more intrigued by the punk-style red font. It read: “Doom Culture Inc offers no nonsense thrills based on your darkest fantasies. Give your inner self a reason to be afraid.” His finger touched the skull almost instinctually, as if there wasn’t a reason not to. It opened into a web browser and showcased a photo gallery of knife-wielding maniacs, blood, fire, and insects. The whole website read like a promotion for some horror movie with words like “Stabbed, kidnapped, poisoned, and shocking” appearing as taglines. It didn’t offer any explanation as to what the service was or why it existed. He quickly closed the window, more disturbed than intrigued. When he put the phone in his pocket and walked to his computer, he realized he didn’t like living alone. It was too quiet to drown out the thoughts of a world falling apart. There were earthquakes in India, a new virus in China, and people at home were going mad with protests and riots. He had never known the planet to have a single peaceful day. His friend invited him to a video chat as soon as he logged into his pc but he really didn’t care who it was. Colton appeared and Brian made a half-assed attempt at a smile. “Sup, bro. What do you have for me?” “Nothing yet.” Responded Brian. “I didn’t watch any streams last night. I’ll check out the game stats later.” Colton sipped coffee while browsing the web, forgetful of the conversation he was having. “So what are you going to get me for my birthday.” Brian hated sounding like a narcissist but Colton wouldn’t have noticed anyways. “Huh? Oh uh, yeah of course I got you something.” His friend appeared almost startled and quickly started typing and clicking. “Should be...on its way. Hang on.” Colton had always been absentminded and hapless but somehow managed to be resourceful. Brian spent the next several seconds looking down at his phone, picking it up and putting it back down, without even using it. The silence had to be filled with something. “Yup, should be on its way.” Said Colton. “Found it under your recommendations. Looks like something you’re into. You’ve been doomscrolling?” “Huh?” “Doomscrolling, like when you go searching for bad news.” Colton explained. “You Liked a lot of news articles.” “You can see that?” Brian was never cognizant of his online activities. He never needed to. Not like anyone cared. He changed subjects and moved his phone away, further from his reach. The two friends talked for a while about gamer streams and the release of a new competitive shooter. The conversation ended around noon and he spent the rest of the day thinking about what his mom would get him for his birthday tomorrow. There was a storm coming so the stores would have been packed. He just stayed home and had week-old mac and cheese for dinner and chased it with rum until the anxious voices, most of them his own, were drowned away. Before he went to bed, he read one more story related to Doom Culture Inc. Their hiring practices were brought into question when several of their employees were said to have gone postal or something. His eyes grew heavy. Authorities urged people to be careful when using these types of “fear fantasy” services. After reading the comments he fell asleep with his phone in his hand. Colton had sent several texts to Brian over the next several days, the contents of which were scatterbrained and strange. The more the messages seemed frantic the more Colton texted back. Webcam chats were less frequent with Brian looking over his shoulder constantly or abruptly ending the call when he heard something in the background. Having been friends since high school they still had never seen each other afraid. Brian was afraid, Colton could tell. The initial texts, “someone’s messing with me,” made him consider if his friend was even telling him the truth, about a knock on the door with no one there or the voices he heard coming from outside his window. The next night Colton held his phone close, his chest tightening, expecting an answer to his message, “What do you mean burning?” Three hours later when he was about to fall asleep the phone buzzed with the response, “Found burning twigs in my bathtub. Idk whats happening.” Colton didn’t sleep that night and stared at the ceiling as if the answers would be there. Had he been messing with him? Playing a joke? What the hell was he even talking about? He wondered if it was the gift he got him. It was just a horror movie fan site, wasn’t it? At 5AM he sent one final text to video chat after Brian had ghosted him. A few minutes later his phone was ringing. It was Brian on his computer web cam. His eyes were sunken and he was shivering. The room was dark. “Yo, you okay?” Colton moved in closer to the phone. “Hard to see you, buddy. What’s happening?” Brian was breathing heavily as if he had been jogging and didn’t speak for several seconds. His eyes were dilated and darted back and forth. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” He spoke rapidly, like he had an energy drink. “I’m seeing things -things that aren’t there.” “Did you take something?” Colton was sleep deprived himself and didn’t know what to do. “I feel...funny... There are people...in the windows, in the mirrors, in the corners of the room. I don’t know if anything is real anymore.” Tears were streaming down his face. Colton sat up from his bed and spoke loudly, choking back his own nerves, “What is going on man?” “I just want it to stop.” Brian had his head in his hand. “It started with a knocking at the door...but no one was there. It wouldn’t stop. They kept pounding...no one there. Then I found things around the apartment, like dolls...with their eyes burned out. I drank some rum to fall asleep but I felt weird. I felt nauseous so I ate something and it got worse. There are figures in the dark, horrible things, like skinny people with big eyes. I just want it to stop. They won’t go away. They watch me when I sleep. Please just make it stop. I don’t want to see anymore.” Colton’s eyes became glassy, “Just relax man. Take a breath.” But before he could say any more Brian started squeezing his face. “Make it stop. I don’t want to see...” Brian pressed his face harder, hands gripping and slapping, and sobbed uncontrollably. Darkness surrounded him in a bleak, obscuring grip. “The eyes...in the shadows...they make me see things.” “Hang in there, man,” Colton put his shoes on but before he could get to the front door Brian started screaming in the video chat. “I can’t unsee them.” He was saying, pressing his fingers to his eyes. Suddenly his fingers disappeared into his eyes as blood dripped down his cheeks. He screamed louder and fell to the floor, out of view of the pc camera. “Brian!” His friend shouted, shaking by the door. His heart was thumping and he gagged, spitting up saliva. Colton zoomed in on the video. That was when he saw a figure standing in the doorway of Brian’s room, staring back from the shadows. Suffocated by panic, the phone image burned into his mind, Colton became paralyzed. There was nothing he could do, he could only gaze at the haunting figure and watch as it stepped forward. Moans could be heard off screen, right before the video call ended, cutting off one final scream.