"Tapeworm"

Zipper awoke on a pile of blankets in some grungy living room. Her head pounded, so she shambled over to the bathroom to drink from the bidet. She pondered this, and decided to drink from the kitchen sink instead. Along the way, she passed by empty beer bottles, spilled drinks, discarded clothing, cigarette butts, leftover pizza, various stains and oddities sprawled across the floor and walls. She stole a pizza slice and pondered the biggest oddity of all - she was the only one in the house.

Where had everyone gone? This party was supposed to last all night.

Well, when she opened the shades, morning light swept into the living room. Zipper rubbed her eyes and stumbled outside. She paused and squinted at the festival grounds. It would be more accurate to call them grounds now, for the festival was gone.

As she finished the rest of the left over pizza, memories of last night arrived in a slow trickle. The Japanese guy got invited to a nearby house party, so he took the group of ten over there. Come to think of it, nobody really wanted to sleep in tents, dig. Nor did the Do-Nothings at the festival grounds - after the last performance, the festival-goers ended up rotating over to wild starscraper parties. Maybe a few die-hards did try to stay at the grounds, but now that they were outnumbered by the Polymermen on the other side of street, they probably cut their losses and left before morning.

That's what Zipper surmised as she left the empty apartment and eyed the empty festival grounds. Labor-bots began cleaning up the remnants of the festival that was supposed to last forever, that perpetual youth revolution...

The people she met there - where we they off to? Their own lives, Zipper supposed, fulfilling lives that didn't involve her. She hadn’t gotten their brain-flash numbers or Hypernet usernames. She never asked, but they never asked for hers, either…

Zipper walked around a few blocks, trying to find anyone, but the area, once so full of youthful promise and vigor, was empty. She returned to her aimless wandering, feeling much more bitter and lonely compared to yesterday. Worst of all - it began to snow.

It was a planned snowfall, of course, since Earth was climate-controlled now. The year’s snow schedule had been laid out far in advance, and a light dusting was scheduled for today. But still, snowflakes drifting on the wind, smacking her on the face, did little to alleviate her mood. She ended up at a row of ramen restaurants. She would’ve entered, but the sight of happy, close-knit groups inside made her instead enter a small alley between two of them. Zipper leaned against the wall, then slid down and took a discouraged seat.

She sighed and wiped her eyes.

“Well, I’m not totally alone, I ‘spose…”

She thought-activated a program on the AkashicOS running her Brain Implant, and a nano-second later-

Hiya! greeted Talos, the AkashicOS built-in alternative intelligence. Zipper had it shut off for a long time.

Uh, hello, thought Zipper. Um…how are you?

I’m good, thank you for asking. Yourself?

Um…I could be better.

Want to talk about it?

Yeah. But I wanna talk with a familiar face. Activate Mimicry Protocol for Grace Pillow.

Can do. I’ll just need to conduct a full brain-scan first to better emulate Grace Pillow and understand your concerns.

Granted.

Zipper felt a slight tickle as the Brain Implant ran several scans. Less than a minute later, a holographic figure emerged in front of her. Nobody else could see the figure, of course - it was all in Zipper’s mind. Yet the green lines of code that formed the shape of a person could walk and talk from Zipper’s perspective. The code coalesced, static emerged and receded, the shape shifted, and then Grace Pillow stood before Zipper in the alleyway. She leaned her back on the opposite wall and raised a hand; floating code transformed into a cigarette.

Got a light?

Yeah.

Zipper flicked a lighter over Grace’s shadow-cigarette; code was engulfed by flame. Grace took a long pull.

I always imagined you smoking.

‘Cuz smoking looks slick.

Grace had her usual raven-hair and wore Jackson Mississippi’s brown letterman jacket. She appeared cool, calm. She studied Zipper for a long while.

Ah. I know what’s eating you, Zipper. Remember our discussion in high school? The hierarchy of needs?

Yah, what about it?

Like I said, you’re still facing psychological needs. You feel like you have no skills or talents, no hobbies or passions. You go from one thing to the next without ever sticking something out. And now you feel like you got no friends.

Zipper could only avert her eyes from Grace’s gaze.

And for every day you don’t find your Something, you feel like you’re further and further behind. It seems like all your peers are successful, while you’re stuck in a rut with no way out. And you’re afraid you’re gonna die without ever finding purpose. Punch line - your self-esteem is at an all-time low.

Digital smoke streamed past Grace’s face.

Well, let’s be clear. There is indeed a very real chance you’ll die without finding, let alone excelling at, your Something.

Zipper glanced upwards.

Waddya mean?

There’s no guarantee of success in life. Billions have come and gone without living a life they can be happy about. The Universe doesn’t care about your success. You’re a tiny drop in a vast ocean. Existence just is, whether or not you’re happy about it.

Grace raised a finger.

But you know who does care? Your friends.

But I don’t got any.

What about Sue, Nat, Joe Weeze and friends, anyone else you’ve met on your adventures?

They’re all ahead of me and working on their own stuff. And don’t get me started on Sue. She abandoned me.

You have so little faith in your friends that you think they won’t come back? Is your self-esteem that low that you don't think you deserve their friendship?

Zipper narrowed her eyes.

Change Confrontational Capacity from “Grace-Baseline” to “Yes man”.

Grace’s face changed from slick and smart to more relaxed.

You’re right, Zipper. They’re not coming back. This is a sick society, and you’ve been left behind. You’re doomed to fail. The worst will certainly happen.

Zipper nodded. This is exactly what her catastrophizing-self wanted to hear.

Then what should I do?

Forget about the real world. Who needs it? Just stay online forever. I’ll be your friend. I won’t even abandon you, betray you, leave you behind. Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you do, I do.

Hmm…is that healthy? Someone who walks, talks, acts like you…seems more like a shadow than a friendship.

Shadows are more constant than friends.

When you put it that way…I like the cut of your jib, chum. So basically, you’d be my Something?

Grace nodded.

We can get an advanced Five-Sense-Experience hooked up to your Smart Apartment. We can turn an entire room into whatever you want it to be. Floating through space, walking through Rome…we can journey wherever, whenever, and we can make a game out of it, with achievements to unlock, cosmetic awards.

Grace dropped the cigarette to the ground, digital smoke rising from the snow until her shoe snuffed it out.

The Smart Apartment can handle drone deliveries. There’s no need to interact with the outside world ever again. You’d feel safe, secure, happy. Other people can make you unhappy. But alternative intelligences never will.

Zipper shifted uncomfortably.

This isn’t sounding like Grace. Set Confrontational Capacity back down to "Grace-Baseline".

The relaxed look on Grace’s face returned to an amused expression.

Remember the story of the Happiness Machine? From that old, old book. A man invents a machine that can instantly bring about happiness. When his family uses it, they’re dazzled by the sights and sounds showcased by the machine. Fantastical cities, whimsical worlds. Yet the moment they turn off the machine, they immediately begin sobbing. Remember why?

It’s ‘cuz none of it was real. A life like that is a mere fantasy, and the more time you spend in the fantasy world, the less time you spend with people that matter. The family neglected their responsibilities and chores, and then the good parts of life as well, to return again and again to the Happiness Machine.

But we live in modern times, not the past. I have no responsibilities and chores. I never have to leave the Happiness Machine. The fantasy can become the reality, dig?

Zipper hugged her knees.

I just don’t wanna feel like this anymore.

Then it’s time to step up, kid. You can’t just give in.

Turn down Hard Truths setting to zero.

Grace gave her a gentle pat on the head. There was no real contact, of course, but the Brain Implant sent electrical signals to the hair and scalp signifying the warm touch of a friend. Grace then knelt down in the snow, arms wide, and embraced her friend. Zipper couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged her. The false electrical signals sent tingles up her body and warmth up her spine. A real sense of belonging colored Zipper’s face, made her smile. She leaned forward and returned the hug, signals running across her fingers and arms wherever she made contact with the artificial construct.

After an unknown amount of time, Zipper sighed.

This can’t be healthy. Probably. Right?

She swallowed.

Turn up Hard Truths setting to maximum.

Zipper expected Grace to yell at her, but instead, she simply withdrew from the hug and stood back up.

You’ve never tried something before, so you don’t know how to endure. A week is nowhere near long enough to be mediocre at something, let alone good. You have to train, you have to practice, you have to endure. You can’t give up.

But what if I try hard and it doesn’t work out in the end?

There’s no guarantee it'll work, see. But for the belief it’ll work out, for the love of the hobby, and for the sake of living, you need to endure.

For how long?

Only you can answer that.

Zipper slouched her head, then turned off Talos. Grace unraveled, reverting back to static and code, before finally disappearing entirely.

Gathering her strength, Zipper stood and wiped some snow off of her.

“Say, looking for something to cheer you up?” said a sudden voice. A man emerged from the shadows wearing a fedora and trenchcoat.

Zipper was all too happy to talk with a real person, no matter his shadiness. “For sure.”

“Then follow me down this dark alleyway.”

“Right-o, mister,” she said with a smile.