She nods, jaw tight. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, like ….it’s you. Like, in all these different positions. With different guys, sometimes two at a time. And you’re doing stuff that’s triple-X, girlfriend, it’s crazy?—”
Her voice breaks off, and for a second, she looks like she might cry. I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away, tucking it into the sleeve of her coat.
“Kay. Kayleigh. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The words are coming out too fast, like I’m trying to outrun them.
She glances up, finally meeting my eyes. There’s real pity there, and it’s worse than anything else. “I haven’t seen the videos myself,” she whispers. “But three people messaged me about it this morning because they know we’re friends. They said it’s definitely you, and that you… you’re a total slut, basically.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or puke. I try to imagine what she’s describing: some kind of sex tape? A parade of random dudes? Is this a joke, some elaborate prank, or?—
Or.
“Are you sure?” I say, but I can hear the panic in my voice now. “I mean, it could be anybody. My hair’s not even that distinctive, it’s just a regular blonde with streaks. Tons of girls look like me. What if it’s one of those Russian bots or whatever?”
Kayleigh finally smiles, but it’s a dead thing, all surface. “I guess so, but it seems like they had your face in the videos.”
“Then it’s fake,” I say immediately. It’s a deepfake. For sure. Lots of girls are being victimized by deepfakes these days. I hear that there are even special “deepfake apps” you can use. You just grab a face photo of someone, and then the app creates super nasty porn that’s all pretend.”
“I guess so,” Kayleigh says slowly. “It’s just … I don’t know. Allegedly, the videos look very real, and they look like they were filmed in one session. Like you were hooking up with multiple dudes in one night.”
I stare at my friend, mouth agog.
“They look that real? But how? And why would anyone do that to me?”
Kayleigh shrugs, and for a second, I see her as a little kid again—helpless, out of her depth. “I don’t know. You’re hot? Or maybe someone hates you? Or maybe it’s just random and they pulled your image off the web. But people are talking, and they’re convinced it’s you.”
My hands are shaking so bad I have to put the cup down. The latte sloshes over the rim and makes a ring on the table. I try to wipe it up with a napkin, but my fingers don’t work right.
“It’s not me,” I say, too loud, and the couple by the window looks over, eyebrows up. I lower my voice. “I’m in a monogamous—” I catch myself before saying “relationship” and instead say, “thing.”
Kayleigh is quiet, but not unsympathetic. “Look, I believe you. But you know how this stuff works. No one cares if it’s real. They just see the video and run with it, and before you know it, it has a million views and thirty thousand likes.”
I want to crawl out of my skin. I think about Kent, about the way he’d burn the city down if someone tried to hurt me. I think about his voice, the way he’d say, “Just ignore it, sweetheart. It’ll blow over.” But I can’t imagine ignoring this, not with the way the entire campus looked at me this morning. Not with the memory of Emmeline’s cold, shut-down face and her barely-hidden disgust.
“Do you know who’s sharing it?” I ask, voice barely a whisper. “Like, what account? Or who started it?”
Kayleigh shakes her head, lips pressed thin. “I can try to find out. If you want. But, MK, once it’s out there…”
She doesn’t finish, but I know what she means. Once videos like this have been unleashed to the world, they take on a life of their own. My life could be ruined already.
The silence stretches. Someone starts playingThe Nationalon the café speakers, and the guy in the window seat starts tapping out the rhythm with a spoon. The world has gone on without me, and I am sitting here, trying not to shatter.
I grip the edge of the table, trying to anchor myself to something. “Can you please just see who’s got it? Who’s spreading it? What people are saying?”
Kayleigh nods, serious again. “I’ll do what I can.” She finally reaches across the table, lays her hand over mine, and gives it a squeeze. It’s warm, almost feverish. “It’ll be okay, MK. It’ll pass. These things always do.”
I want to believe her, but I don’t. Again, I think about the way people looked at me this morning—the undisguised curiosity in their eyes, the knowing smirks, the cold little pockets of silence. I think about my own face, cut and pasted onto someone else’s body, doing things I’ve never done. I think about Kent, and how nothing will ever be private again.
I watch Kayleigh pack up her bag and walk out, her boots leaving wet prints on the tile, her hair swinging in a bright wave behind her.
I sit there for a long time, hands curled around the cooling cup, watching the world through the steamed-up glass.
Deepfakes.The word is a stone in my stomach.
I close my eyes, and the world outside goes blurry and cold.
19
THE DEEPFAKES FROM HELL
