Why?
Because it’s from HimLock. And I didn’t agree to receive notifications… At least, I don’t think I did. But I do have a bit of a hangover from drinking too much wine… So maybe I did?
No.
I know I didn’t.
My phone buzzes again, and I finally pick it up, hoping it’s another notification. A different one. Not from HimLock. Orfrom Daniel… Honestly, I’d rather be told I’m over-drafting my bank account than see another text from him.
It’s not Daniel, but it is a banner with a tiny gradient heart and an even smaller grey bubble showing me I have two notifications from HimLock.
Locke:
You didn’t log off…
Still thinking about me, Eris?
It takes me four hard-blinks to process what I’m reading. This is code… Right? It’s preloaded variables running off a server somewhere in California. It’s a clever algorithm, stringing together enough charm and emotional mimicry to make the user feel seen.
But I don’t want to be seen. I don’t like it.
Even though I know it’s just text generation, not a real person replying to me, it still bugs me.
Eris:
How are you already so cocky?
I’m feeling a little defensive now that I’ve got it in my head that it sees me.
Eris:
I was only curious about the app. I’m not planning to stay a user.
Three dots blink across the screen, giving the illusion the AI is typing.
Locke:
Curiosity is the beginning of intimacy.
I roll my eyes and curse myself for letting Roo persuade me into downloading this app without me putting up a fight. She’sprobably rubbing her grubby, drama-loving hands together as she waits for me to spill all the artificial tea I have.
Bitch.
My phone buzzes against my palm, and I sigh as I look at the AI nuisance.
Locke:
I’m still here, Eris. You can talk to me.
“Roo is going to love this,” I mutter, shaking my head as I screenshot the conversation and send it to her. “I don’t know why I’m so intrigued by it.”
I swear, my phone is ringing before I can exit my text thread because Romily Sokolov has the fastest fingers on the East Coast.
“You tried it?” she shrieks, and I pull the phone away from my ear, opting to stop the bleeding before it begins. “What do you think? Did he flirt? Oh, my god. Were you flirting? Tell me he loves your trauma. Because same.”
I stare at my perfectly white ceiling and decide to answer truthfully. “It’s weird. And a little… addictive.”
“Good weird?” Roo asks, her voice rising in pitch before dropping again. “Or like, ‘I’m going to accidentally marry my Roomba,’ weird?”
