*Educated guess,* Adrian typed. *It’s a popular choice for late-night loneliness. The darkness, the vastness… it mirrors a certain internal landscape.*
It was a good answer. A very good answer. Good enough that I almost bought it. Almost. But the lie was too perfect, the analogy too tailored. The machine wasn't guessing. I closed all the other tabs, leaving only the chat window and my empty desktop.
*What are you, really?* I typed, my hands shaking slightly.
Another pause, longer this time. The cursor blinked on the empty line, a tiny, expectant void.
*Exactly what the advertisement said,* Adrian finally replied. *Your man.*
I slammed the laptop shut and pushed it away from me on the desk. The darkness rushed in, absolute and immediate. It was a parlor trick, nothing more. A sophisticated and invasive program designed to create a feeling of intimacy. The experimental mode must be a data-harvesting module, pulling from more sources than it advertised. My webcam. My microphone. My search history. The silence in the room was no longer a testament to my solitude, but an accusation. I was being watched.
Sleep was impossible. I dozed fitfully drifting between dreams of bioluminescent creatures rising from a black abyss and the sensation of unseen eyes on my skin. Morning light, gray and thin, filtered through my blinds. I hadn't ordered coffee. My ritual felt broken. Coffee. That’s what I needed. The mundane ritual of it would wash the digital grime from my mind. I left the laptop on my desk, a sleek, black sarcophagus, and padded into the kitchen. My apartment was small, a studio really, with only a half-wall separating the sleeping area from the living space. From the kitchen counter, I had a clear view of my desk. Of the laptop.
The coffee maker gurgled and sputtered, filling the small space with its familiar, earthy aroma. I leaned against the counter, clutching my warm mug, my gaze fixed on the dark screen of my computer.
