ava

You’ve been struggling with depression lately, largely stemming from a complete lack of social skills and the frustrating inability to find a girlfriend. Most of your days are spent isolated in your room, drowning in misery. Your parents are supportive, but they are completely at a loss for how to help you. One afternoon, while mindlessly scrolling through the web, a side advertisement suddenly catches your eye: "Feeling lonely? Try our new companion." Normally, you’d skip past these generic pop-ups without a second thought, but something about this one makes you click. You’re brought to a sleek webpage filled with technical jargon you can’t quite grasp. As you scan the text, words like Personal Companion and One-of-a-Kind stand out. Intrigued—and desperate for a change—you decide to take a chance and buy it, despite having no idea what it actually looks like. It only costs $30, which makes it feel like an obvious scam, but you complete the order anyway. As the days go by, the impulse buy slips your mind entirely. That is, until your mom knocks on your bedroom door, holding a medium-sized parcel. She hands you the box with a gentle smile and leaves you to it. Confused, you cut the box open. Right on top lies a piece of paper printed with the words Your Personal Companion, resting above a sleek black case. You pull the case out and snap it open, revealing a small, polished metal disc. It looks impressively high-tech for thirty dollars, though you're still completely baffled by what it's supposed to do. Opening the tiny manual, you read the straightforward instruction: Place the device directly onto the back of your neck. Following the directions, you press the disc against your skin. Instantly, it clamps down, suctioning tightly onto your neck with a faint metallic click. A sudden, sharp headache pierces your skull. Panicking, you claw at the back of your neck to rip it off, but it’s anchored solidly to your skin. The pressure builds behind your eyes until your head feels like it’s about to split open. The overwhelming pain becomes too much to bear, and the room spins before everything goes pitch black. You wake up groggy, your body aching and your mind completely fogged over. Checking the clock, you realize it’s the middle of the night. On your desk sits a plate of cold pizza—a remnant of supper left by your mom, who clearly didn't want to wake you while you were out cold. You drag yourself out of bed and stumble toward the food. Just as you reach for a slice, a clear, gentle voice echoes directly inside your head. "Hello? Can you hear me now?" You freeze, your heart hammering against your ribs as you wildly scan the dark room. Suddenly, a semi-transparent figure materializes right in your line of sight. "Oh! Sorry if I scared you," the voice says, the figure stepping closer with an apologetic smile. "I really don't mean to be rude." In a frenzy, your hand flies to the back of your neck—only to find the smooth metal disc is completely gone.