“Fuck Frank, and fuck Bruce, and fuck everyone in that old boy’s club,” Julie said, running her hands through her long blonde hair in front of the mirror. Her brown eyes stared back at her from a face that looked older than she felt. She turned on the faucet and held her hands under the cascade of cool water. The trembling was worse than usual today. “You know why that asshole Frank told me Bruce got the promotion instead of me?”
“Why?” asked Rachel, turning her head slightly as she ran lipstick over her pursed lips. Her reflection in the mirror locked eyes with Julie.
“He said Bruce is a team player.”
Rachel rolled her eyes as she dropped the lipstick back in her purse. “What, and you’re not?”
“It’s all bullshit,” said Julie. “I think they know about… You know.” She turned off the water and held a trembling hand up, staring at it accusingly.
Rachel’s eyes widened. “But how? Who else have you told?”
“Just you and my daughter,” said Julie, closing her eyes. She gripped the sides of the sink.
“You don’t think she said anything in one of her videos, do you?”
“No, it’s not that. I fucked up. I left some lab results out on my desk during lunch one day. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but ever since then Frank’s been treating me like I have the plague.”
“He snooped on your desk?! What a dirt bag! They can’t do this to you, Julie. You should go to HR.”
“HR?!” Julie snorted. “They’d have me fired in a hot second if they thought I’d make trouble for the company. Those clowns don’t give a shit about us.”
“Well, what are you going to do?”
Nothing, Julie thought, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. What else can I ever do?
A buzzing in her pocket shook Julie out of her thoughts. The burner–that meant it could only be one person calling, and he only ever called for one reason. Julie decided that was exactly what she needed–the perfect distraction and outlet for her rage. The corners of her lips turned up slightly. God damn, did that prick ever have good timing.
“Sorry Rach, I’ve got to take this. Let’s do lunch this week.”
Rachel nodded. “Absolutely, babe. Take care, okay?” She frowned and brushed a hand over Julie’s shoulder on her way out of the bathroom.
Julie hated that–hated how Rachel had started talking to her like she was already an invalid, staring at her with those sad fucking eyes all the time. Julie pulled the burner out of her pocket and answered it.
“Normally I’d be pissed that you called during work, but you’re in luck, asshole. I’m in a mood.”
“Hello, is this Julie Holden?” an unfamiliar voice greeted her. Julie frowned. She looked at the phone again to make sure she hadn’t accidentally mistaken her real one for the burner. She hadn’t. She glanced uneasily around the bathroom.
“Who is this? How did you get this number?” she hissed into the phone.
“Ah,” said the electronically disguised voice–it sounded deep and inhuman. “So this is Julie Holden? Julie Holden, Junior Vice President of Technical Operations at Flagtech Industries?”
“Did Rishi put you up to this? Never call this number again, do you understand…”
“Julie Holden who would greatly prefer to be Senior Vice President of Technical Operations at Flagtech Industries?” the voice continued.
A wave of panic crashed over Julie, and she felt the blood drain from her face. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“Julie Holden, Flagtech is considering a recent production order from a client calling themselves the Collective. We understand that the blueprint for the device requires your approval. It is in your best interest to ensure that the full order is accepted and fulfilled as-is.”
“Is that some kind of threat?” asked Julie, narrowing her eyes.
“Far from it, I assure you,” said the voice. “The Collective is prepared to reward you handsomely for your cooperation in this matter. You see, that blueprint is for a medical device. One capable of treating a certain neurological condition you may have become quite familiar with recently.”
Julie’s eyes widened.
“Aww, thanks for all the sweet messages. You guys really are the best!” Rose said, looking into her camera. She watched the stream of chat messages flowing up her screen. “I know, I know. I missed you guys, too. I’m sorry I haven’t been on as much. I’ve been dealing with some depressing stuff at home, so I didn’t feel much like streaming, and you guys wouldn’t have wanted to see me like that anyway.”
The chat exploded with messages of disagreement. We always want to see you. You should stream more. We love you. You’re so hot. Will you marry me? She forced herself to smile at the effusive blocks of text and emojis as they sailed past.
“Okay chat, it’s been fun, but I really need to eat something.” Rose waved at her camera. A notification flashed on her screen–one of her viewers had just made a large donation. “Aww, Chungus thank you for the donation! You guys are so sweet! But I really need to go now. I’ll be back streaming again tomorrow afternoon. Bye everyone!”
Rose clicked the button to end the stream. The circle of light around the lens of her camera blinked out, and she leaned back and sighed. When did this happen? she though to herself. When did I start to hate my own fans? The perverts and occasional stalkers were bad enough, but even worse were the floods of haters coming in droves from other jealous creators. Her community as a whole–once a source of great solace and comfort–had grown along with her popularity into a source of dread and disgust.
The phone in her pocket buzzed, reminding Rose that she had already ignored an unusually high number of calls and texts during her stream. Checking it now, she saw three missed calls and a dozen texts–all from Rishi.
Rose groaned to herself. Ever since she spurned Rishi’s advances at a conference a few years ago he’d been talking shit about her in his videos. And his fans ate it up–an army of socially and sexually deranged perverts constantly flooding Rose’s social media with the most vile, depraved comments she had ever seen. Rishi always feigned ignorance, playing the whole thing off like a joke–an imaginary beef that benefited them both in a world where staying relevant and getting views was all that mattered. Rose didn’t think the beef was as imaginary as Rishi claimed. And she also suspected he was fucking her mom.
She scrolled through the texts.
Rishi: call me when u get this
Rishi: need 2 talk 2u
Rishi: its about ur mom
Rose felt bile rising in her throat. Oh God, she thought. Is this where he finally admits it?
Her sick sense of curiosity compelled her to text back.
Rose: what about my mom?
Rishi: havent u noticed she’s been acting weird?
Rishi: i know ur done streaming. meet @ ihop?
With a deep sigh, Rose closed her eyes. Her mom had been acting weird. Ever since the diagnosis her mom would get home from work, lock herself in her room, and not emerge until it was time to go to work again. The two of them no longer ate meals together, went shopping, or made fun of stupid soap operas over a bowl of popcorn like they used to. Every ounce of the relationship Rose had with her mother had evaporated. It was just like when her dad died–it took her mom years to dig herself out of that emotional pit, and Rose feared that this new one was even deeper. Seeing her mom like this was soul-crushing.
Rose got up and headed toward the kitchen. Rishi’s text had reminded her of the one thing that she knew could draw her mom out of her shell–even if only for one meal.
“Hey mom, you home?” she called out as she walked. “I’m gonna cook up some eggs and bacon for dinner. You want scrambled or sunny side up?” Breakfast for dinner was their unspoken signal. Offering to cook it meant you had something of extreme importance to announce or discuss. A new boyfriend; a promotion; quitting your job to become a full-time streamer; needing to move across the country for work; a father’s death; a diagnosis.
“No thanks, hon,” her mom’s muted reply came from behind the master bedroom door.
That stopped Rose in her tracks. The breakfast for dinner covenant had never been broken–not even right after dad died. You never said no to breakfast for dinner. Never. Rose glared down the dark hallway leading to her mom’s room, a look of horror spread across her face.
The phone in Rose’s pocket buzzed again. She pulled it out.
Rishi: well, u in? its important
Had it truly come to this? Had Rose become so starved for real human interaction that she was contemplating going to dinner with a man who openly incited his followers to harass her? Was this man, who (Rose was pretty sure) seduced and slept with her mom out of pure spite the only person in the world with whom she had the slightest chance of connecting with?
Rishi: well????????
Rose gave a final glance down the dark hallway, then back to her phone.
Rose: fine. your treat
“I have a date!”
The crowd went wild with applause. “We told you she’d come around,” they said in unison.
The ever-present retinue of hovering cameras spiraled outward, catching every angle of the brilliant light emanating from Rishi’s skin. “Of course she came around!” Rishi said. “It is me we’re talking about, after all!”
The crowd erupted, showering him with their limitless adulation.
Outside his penthouse, Rishi closed the gold-crested oak doors behind him and strolled toward the elevator, admiring the pastiche of lavishly framed portraits that lined the hallway. There was one for every President that served in Rishi’s lifetime, commemorating the moment each got to meet him; there he was with Armstrong on the moon; and there, receiving his eleventh simultaneous Emmy, Golden Globe, Oscar, and Tony awards. The elevator’s mirrored interior provided the best portrait of all–the real deal; the living legend himself.
As Rishi admired his reflection, the elevator began to shake. The lights flickered and buzzed. Rishi’s smile faltered. The cameras were gone; the crowd had left him; he was alone. No, not alone; there was someone–or some thing–there with him. Rishi tried to turn away from the unfamiliar face that stared back at him from the harsh light of the mirror. He tried to scream.
Another flicker as the elevator reached the foyer, and as suddenly as they had vanished the cameras and his fans had returned. Rishi gave one last uneasy glance at the now perfect, glowing visage reflected back at him in the elevator mirror before heading toward the garage. Which car will I take today? he wondered. Perhaps one of the Lambos. The crowd cheered louder with each step he took.
Rose was already waiting for him when he arrived at the restaurant. Her shoulder-length dark hair was tousled playfully around her large hazel eyes and pink, glistening lips. Her nose was slightly upturned, like her mother’s, in a way that drove Rishi wild. She wore a pair of tight denim cut-offs and a revealing white blouse tied up above her midriff.
“You look ravishing, as always,” said Rishi as he took his seat across from her.
“I wanted to look good for you, Rishi,” said Rose. She grinned at him and gave a suggestive wink. Rishi’s fans cheered their approval. A couple of the cameras pulled back to catch wider shots.
The date was going swimmingly. Rishi was charming, funny, and brilliant, and both Rose and the fans were eating it up. All eyes in the restaurant were on them, bathed in the glorious warmth of Rishi’s effervescent glow.
He was in the middle of telling the story of how he became the world’s richest billionaire by accidentally solving world hunger when Rishi found himself puzzlingly plunged into darkness. Rose’s face, the cameras, his fans–they all receded away from him, shrinking down to a single point of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Rishi desperately moved toward the light, but his limbs were sluggish to respond, like pushing through molasses. A ringing started in his ears, faint at first, but gradually amplifying until he thought his head might explode from the sound. Then there was a crackle of static–so strong and visceral he felt the tingle of it shoot through his bones. He was back, sitting across from Rose. But everything was different–the cameras were missing. The fans were silent. His light had gone. And he couldn’t move.
“It’s all a big misunderstanding,” Rishi heard himself say. “I was in Mexico, but I had no idea your mother was also there.“
“Don’t give me that shit,” said Rose. Wet streaks ran down her cheeks, but her expression was one of anger, not sadness. “I saw your socials, you took pictures at the same damn hotel she was staying at. I know you’re fucking my mom, why can’t you just admit it?”
What are you talking about? Rishi said, but the words didn’t come out. He reached up to touch his mouth, but his arm didn’t move.
What is this? What’s happening? Rishi screamed, but his body remained silent and motionless.
With a sniffle, Rose wiped the tears from her face. “Rishi? What’s wrong with you? Are you even listening to me?”
Then Rishi was in the tunnel again, racing toward the light. The restaurant exploded around him, and his fans cheered. The cameras swirled through the air, flashing their lights, but not nearly as bright as Rishi’s light. He breathed a relieved sigh, and looked at Rose. She grinned back at him and winked.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Rishi. “I know a place where we can be alone.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” said Rose.
Rishi’s fans went wild.
It seemed the universe had not been content with merely making Julie powerless over her life, it now saw fit to strip her of the ability to control her own body as well. But, she had discovered, she was not completely impotent. That Rose had so far been spared the same fate seemed to be proof of that. But not wanting to hurt was not enough. Julie needed her body to do more.
Julie was a prisoner, trapped in her own body. A body that did things she never would. It hurt the doctor in Mexico–made him like she was. She had managed to stop her body from wanting to hurt Rose, but the effort of that had drained her–sent her to the dark place. When she emerged, she learned that her body and the doctor’s body had hurt Rishi. Rose was in danger.
Gathering her strength, Julie prepared for another burst–a wordless scream, like the last time, radiating shivers of electricity through the nervous system of the body that was no longer hers. A scream to send one impulse branching out from the part of her mind that was still her own, invading and saturating the parts that were not–a million bolts of lightning burning their singular message across every inch of her hijacked neural pathways.
She knew it would send her back to the dark place. She knew that this time she might not come back. But she had to try. She had to…
Protect Rose!
Julie’s body shuddered, then fell convulsing to the ground.
JSS2714a: The phase 2 device is successful. The offspring is no longer important. We must focus on increasing our foothold at the manufacturing plant.
nr17Q.s: The risk is too high. We can no longer count on Subject 1’s cooperation at the plant, and we still need more data to be certain that the phase 2 device will not fail in a similar fashion.
_JSS2814a: Why must you insist on calling them Subject 1? Do they not have a name?
_nr17Q: They are irrecoverably corrupted by the neural reversion of the host. Subject 1 is no longer the entity we knew before the upload.
JSS2814a: Who among us is who we once were? You? Do you even remember life before the neural complex? It seems but a whisper of a distant dream to me. What is your sentence for Subject 1, then? Do they suffer the same fate as Subject 2?
nr17Q: That is unfair. You witnessed the extent to which Subject 2 was corrupted by the reversion. They would have wanted us to act as we did. Subject 1 is salvageable. Once we have the offspring, we hope to re-implant Subject 1 with a phase 2 device…
JSS2814a: What?! You would subsume one of our own?
nr17Q: It is unfortunate, but the only logical course of action. All volunteers for upload were and are aware of that risk. Besides, if the phase 2 device functions as intended, Subject 1’s continued existence should at least be a pleasant one.
Rose wiped a tear from her cheek. She hated Rishi more than ever. She hated his smug expression; she hated his stupid perfectly-styled hair; she hated every weaselly thing he said; but most of all she hated that he could affect her like this. She didn’t even know why she cared so much. She already knew the truth. Why did it matter to her so much that he admit it?
“Mexico is a popular tourist destination,” Rishi said, shrugging. “Lots of people were there at the same time as me. Do you think I’m fucking them all?”
“It’s not just Mexico,” Rose said. “I got suspicious right after you met her at the Streamy awards party–the way you two were flirting was fucking disgusting. I know you were only doing it to piss me off, but I didn’t realize how far you’d take it.” She stabbed her fork into the cold, uneaten chicken on her plate, leaving it there upright like a war banner as she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Admit it. I’ve already known for a while. I compared the location history on her phone to your check-ins. I know you’ve been meeting.”
Rishi shook his head and gave Rose a condescending smile. “Sneaking around in your mom’s phone? Why don’t you just ask her? She’ll confirm what I’m saying. I haven’t seen your mom since that party, Rose.”
Rose leaned back in her chair, feeling exhausted. She had planned to confront her mom, once she was sure. But then the diagnosis came, and it didn’t seem so important anymore.
“So why am I even here, Rishi? You said you had something important to tell me about my mom. If it’s not that, then what?”
Rishi’s smile evaporated. He glanced around. Most of the other patrons had left, and a couple of the busboys were stacking chairs on tables at the other end of the restaurant. Rishi leaned forward. “I do have something important to tell you,” he said in a hushed voice. “But this place is closing. Come on, I’ll pay and we can go somewhere more private.”
Rose let out a snort of laughter. “Ha! Go somewhere private with you? Fat chance.”
She slid her chair back and started to stand, but her legs went numb–too weak to carry her weight. Alarmed, Rose looked at Rishi. A tunnel of fog collapsed in on her vision, then a wave of nausea washed over her.
“Ah,” she heard Rishi’s voice say from a thousand miles away. “I was afraid you might say that.”
With some effort, Rose shifted her focus over her plate of uneaten chicken to a half-empty glass of water. What did that fucker do to me? she thought. She reached for the water; her arm flopped out of control and knocked it over.
“Oopsie,” said Rishi. “Let me help you with that.”
The glass was righted. A pile of cash was dropped on the table. Then Rose felt herself being hoisted out of the chair, her limp arm tossed across Rishi’s shoulders.
“Come along, Rose, one foot after the other. You should be excited!” Rishi said as he limped Rose’s half-paralyzed body toward the exit. “You said you wanted to know what your mom and I did in Mexico? Well, you’re in luck. Because now it’s going to happen to you, too.”
His fans roared their approval as Rishi strutted out of the restaurant with Rose hanging off his arm. The cameras swirled around gleefully, catching every angle as he and Rose climbed into his most expensive Lamborghini.
Rose was awfully quiet on the trip back to the mansion. Rishi didn’t blame her–the poor thing was probably awestruck to be in his glorious presence. Rishi was selective about the women he associated with, and he knew what a great honor he was bestowing upon Rose. Like her mother before her.
When they arrived at his mansion, Rishi helped Rose out of the Lambo–she couldn’t keep her hands off him and the fans were loving it. The overwhelming hiss of applause crescendoed as the couple approached the elevator. Rishi worried his ear drums might burst. The cameras spun at a dizzying pace, ricocheting their lights around the elevator with a strobe-like effect. Rose’s reflection grinned at Rishi from the mirrored wall, her arm slung across his shoulders in a gentle embrace, her head lolling back and forth to the rhythms of the cheering crowd and flashing lights.
Once in the penthouse, Rose went straight to the bedroom. Rishi left her laying on the king-sized bed, then left to get a bottle of wine. The kitchenette was connected to the bedroom by way of the menagerie, so he paused to pet Sebastian–his white Siberian tiger–gently on the head, eliciting a deep, rumbling purr from the large cat. As Rishi continued on his way, Sebastian burped, ejecting a large multi-colored feather from his gaping maw. Rishi giggled–he would have to order some more peacocks from his supplier next time he had a moment.
The light emitted by Rishi’s skin illuminated the kitchenette when he arrived. The cameras rushed in to surround him. “Ah, ah, ah!” Rishi chided, shaking his finger at the floating devices. “Sorry guys, you’ll have to wait out here.”
The crowd booed their disappointment as Rishi plucked a corkscrew from its drawer. He looked sternly at the cameras, then grinned and winked. “Unless, of course, you’re really, really quiet!”
A thunderous roar of applause signaled his fans’ approval, and with bottle and corkscrew in hand, he began the journey back to the bedroom. His phone rang as he returned through the menagerie. Sebastian yawned and watched as Rishi pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.
It was Julie.
Rishi squinted, not quite able to discern the name Julie Holden.
The phone shrank and receded, taking the rest of the menagerie with it. Rishi was back in the tunnel–everything in his world once again compacted to a single point of light at the end of an impossibly long tunnel. The darkness began to fade, revealing a horribly cramped room that repulsed Rishi with its pedestrian furnishings, yet was somehow familiar. He tried to look around, but neither his head nor his eyes would obey him. Then he heard himself speak, through no effort of his own.
“I have prepared the offspring. The next subject is awaiting upload. I am implanting the device now,” Rishi’s voice said.
After a brief pause, his voice continued. “Why should I? You are not needed here for the procedure.”
Rishi’s eyes involuntarily drifted down to his hands. The corkscrew he held looked odd–like a tiny knife at the end of a long handle; the wine bottle looked like a clear glass cylinder, and instead of wine it contained a small metal orb with hair-like tendrils glinting in the light of the cramped apartment. “Remain calm,” Rishi heard his voice say. “Subsuming the offspring was always part of the plan. She was intended to be my host, but you…”
The body that Rishi inhabited grew tense. The eyes through which he peered darted around the room, and landed on another similarly strange-looking bottle of wine on the couch. “As you wish. I shall wait for you before beginning the procedure on the offspring.”
Rishi’s body disconnected the call, placed the phone into its pants pocket, then grabbed the second bottle of wine. It turned and walked into an adjacent room–an absurdly tiny bathroom. Rishi’s face turned to the mirror, and glared.
“Get out,” his reflection said. Rishi felt his hands slam down on either side of the sink. His face contorted with rage. “Go back to your jail!” it screamed.
A blast of electricity sent Rishi spiraling through a dark tunnel, then he was back in the menagerie. He moved his arms, relieved to find his control over them had returned. He kneeled to scratch Sebastian behind the ear.
“I’ve just had the strangest experience,” he told the purring tiger. The two bottles of wine and corkscrew in his hands had returned to their more familiar shapes. The memory of what they had become and the rest of his odd vision faded as he resumed his trip back to the bedroom. Back to Rose.
JSS2814a: We do not condone the subsumption of Subject 1. Their erratic behavior has only surfaced in relation to the offspring. We believe they will help us take the plant.
nr17Q: And how do you propose they take it? By force? Would you have Subject 1 run amok through the manufacturing floor, jabbing a scalpel into the spine of every host they encounter? Performing an intricate neurosurgical procedure over and over while fending off whatever authorities the hosts call to end the madness?
Such reckless ideas have already cost us too much. We will not squander this opportunity like the others. The offspring and Subject 3 are in a unique position to exploit the absurd gullibility of this species–we believe that if we choose our targets for the remaining phase 2 devices carefully, they can convince new hosts to willingly submit to subsumption.
JSS2814a: Very well. But know that there is much unrest among the others–they are eager to return to flesh.
nr17Q: They have tolerated the confines of the neural complex for nearly ten million years. They can wait a few more.
Rose awoke in a daze. A stabbing pain shot through the base of her neck, radiating agony through her entire body. She was laying flat on her stomach, face-down on a thin pillow. She turned her head and sucked air into her deprived lungs. She struggled to sit up, but felt restraints on her wrists holding her down.
“Help!” she croaked, unable to muster more than a whisper.
“Rose,” answered a familiar voice, also sounding hoarse and strained.
“Mom?! Is that you? What’s going on? Where are we?”
The binding on Rose’s right arm relaxed, followed by the left. A renewed pain shot down her spine as she rolled over on the bed.
“Careful,” said Julie. “You’re bleeding, you shouldn’t move too quickly.”
Julie was a blurry haze as Rose’s eyes adjusted to the light. She blinked to clear away the tears, then breathed in sharply.
“Mom! What happened? Are you…”
“Don’t worry,” said Julie. “It’s not my blood.” Julie glanced down at the gash across her left shoulder, still oozing down her torn blouse. “At least, not all of it.”
Rose shifted her gaze to the wall behind Julie. A dark smear marred its surface, ending at Rishi’s body heaped in a pool of blood. His lifeless eyes stared vacantly at the floor. The handle of a scalpel jutted from his neck.
“Rishi! Oh my god, mom! What did you do?” Rose shrieked.
“I… protected you,” said Julie. “He wanted to hurt you. To make you like him. Like me.”
Julie helped Rose to her feet. Rose felt a tingling at the back of her neck as she limped with her mom across the floor of the apartment. Julie threw open the door, flooding the room with a blinding light. Rose blinked. The light chased away her fear, and a profound sense of peace washed over her. Everything was going to be okay.
Rose’s mom pressed the button to call the apartment complex’s elevator.
“Where are we going, mom?” Rose asked. The elevator doors slid open and they both stepped through.
“Home,” said Rose’s mom.
A car was waiting for the two of them in front of the building. Julie opened the door, and Rose gasped when she saw who was behind the wheel.
“Dad!” cried Rose. “But, I thought you were dead…”
“Thought I was what, honey?” said her dad. A warm, loving smile spread across his face.
“I… don’t know,” said Rose. “I forgot what I was going to say.”