MIKEL J. WISLER

Carol flopped onto the toilet and emptied her bladder with abandon while she waited for the inevitable morning conversation.

“Good morning, Carol.”

​

 

“Hi Vicki,” she yawned.

 

“Based on your bowel movements, you need a 39% increase in fiber and more electrolytes to counteract dehydration experienced during sleep. Your Vitalus Premium subscription now includes expedited shipping for fiber-enhanced breakfast bars and our new electrolyte booster.”

 

“Order,” Carol said.

 

Her phone, which rested on the bathroom counter next to her dinged with a confirmation of her order.

 

Carol popped open the Vicki app and launched her shower preset. Peeling off of her pajamas, she slipped in under the cascading water once her phone chimed to let her know the temperature was ideal. The hot water rained down on her and Vicki chimed again as the showerhead dispensed shampoo. Carol massaged her scalp, eyes closed, still wishing for sleep.

 

“Would you like to hear headlines from trusted news sources?” Vicki offered.

 

“Yes,” Carol said.

 

“WHO Releases New Stricter UV Exposure Guidelines. Latest Sunspot Projections Indicate Sharper Rise Than Expected. Unrest in Several Major American Cities Due to Labor Negotiations. Three Major Hollywood Studios Sign Deal with Vitalus, Bringing New Premium Entertainment Content to the Platform.”

 

“Listen,” Carol commanded.

 

The report played as she ran her loofa over her skin. It detailed how the top three major studios finally reached an agreement with Vitalus after months of arguments. More movies and TV shows would soon be available to Vitalus Premium subscribers like Carol.

 

Twenty minutes later, awake and in fresh sweatpants and an old Taylor Swift t-shirt, Carol sat at her kitchen counter. Flipping open her laptop, she began her workday. One client kept pushing hard to issue their financials by the end of the week but had yet to provide all the information Carol’s team needed to pull it off. She browsed her email, checking for anything new from the client. Finding nothing, she sighed.

 

“Carol, based on your preference settings, I recommend you exercise before beginning work to boost your mood and energy level,” Vicki chimed.

Carol moaned. “I just showered. Remind me to work out before I shower, Vicki.”

 

“I will do that from now on.”

 

Her computer chirped with an incoming video call and Carol groaned when she saw the caller ID. Grudgingly, she picked up.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Luke smiled on her screen.

 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Carol said.

 

“I just wanted to check in on you before heading to work,” Luke said.

 

“Not your responsibility anymore. Wait, they have you doing construction? Do they at least give you the proper protection?”

 

“Yeah, we’re fine. We’re being smart. Lots of night work.”

 

“But you’re working in the day right now,” Carol rolled her eyes.

 

“When was the last time you got out?” he asked.

 

“I have everything I need. We’ve got drones that do our audits, I can video chat with my team and clients, and my Vitalus keeps me stocked with food.

 

“Jesus, don’t you miss getting out?” Luke said in the whiny tone she long ago decided she couldn’t live with.

 

“Are you paying attention to what’s going on out there?”

 

“Are you?” He huffed.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Luke sighed, “Look, I didn’t call to get into a fight. I’m worried about you being cooped up in there alone. It’s not healthy.”

 

“Oh, you’re the authority on what’s healthy now?”

 

“Come on, honey. I’m just worried.”

 

Carol sighed, “Don’t call me honey.”

 

Luke gazed off the way he always did when he bit his tongue. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ve heard some things about how Vitalus filters information and what gets shared...”

 

The screen went blank. A second later, a message popped up to indicate a network connection issue.

 

“Vicki, what the hell happened to my call?”

 

“Local bandwidth capacity has been exceeded. Internet service will come back online in moments. Please standby.”

 

“Crap. I need to work, you know?”

 

By the time Carol poured a second cup of tea, the bandwidth issue had been resolved. Carol dove into her work and tried to push her ex-husband from her mind. She tapped her fingers on the counter and stared at a spreadsheet. That whiny dimwit, she thought. He’s probably one of those idiots out there trying to pretend everything’s fine. He’ll wind up with skin cancer. Moron.

 

She shook her head. Why did she care what he did now?

 

“You are experiencing elevated stress levels,” Vicki piped up. “Would you like to try our Destress Mindfulness Package? It includes soundscapes, aromatherapy, guided meditation—”

 

“Purchase.”

 

#

​

Another day. Another evening. More TV shows. Some quick text messages to her father. Carol flopped into bed, tired and yet restless. She stared at the speckled ceiling and sighed. Something felt off. Luke’s voice rang in her head all day. When had she been out last? Six months? When did the latest spike in sunspot activity take off? That had been in the last six months, right? Or it could have been the declining atmospheric conditions that convinced her to play it extra safe. She loved not commuting. But days blurred into weeks, which morphed into months. When was the last time she’d seen another person other than on a screen?

​

No human contact meant it had been ages since shaking hands, hugging a friend, having sex… Wow! What a wild thought. When had she last had sex?

​

She lay in the dark trying to recall, but things with Luke drifted so gradually. She couldn’t recall when they’d last made love—if you could call it that. He’d been an unimaginative lover. Though, in what specific ways, Carol couldn’t name.

​

Ugh, Luke. She pushed him from her mind, allowing space for a new thought. I’m a liberated, empowered, woman. There’s no reason I can’t take care of myself, right? I got this.

​

She slid her hand under her PJ pants and underwear. She gently moved her fingers, trying to get a sense of what she might be in the mood for. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture something, someone, anything that would help her feel more relaxed, more turned on, more prepared for a release. Her unsettled mind threw a barrage of cliches at her. Her unfocused fantasies mixed with questions about work and if she’d remembered to ask one of her team members to request a new set of financials from one of the manufacturing clients.

​

Focus Carol, she scolded herself.

​

With a deep breath, she tried again to clear her head.

​

After another frustrating minute of fumbling about in her own neglected nether regions, she sighed and pulled her hand out. She rolled over and stared at the wall.

“You seem to be struggling with achieving sexual release.”

​

Carol shot up in her bed, looked around the room.

​

“You were watching me?” Carol screamed.

​

“I track your physiological state to help you maximize health, happiness, and—”

​

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” Carol shook her head.

​

How could she forget about Vicki? A furious rush of hot shame shot through Carol before she could fight it off. But what did she have to be ashamed of? Vicki wasn’t a real person.

​

“Vitalus Premium Subscription includes several sexual health resources,” Vicki said, “including sex therapist certified sexual mindfulness meditative masturbation guides. Would you like me to connect the suggested content to your phone?”

​

Carol swallowed, thinking for a moment. Meditative masturbation?

​

“Sure.”

​

Her phone dinged, the screen glowing. Picking it up, she stared down at the notification. Was she going to go through with this? I’m just off my game right now, she thought. Everything is so stressful and weird. I can take care of myself. I have before.

​

But it hadn’t been remarkable, she reluctantly admitted. Not something she did often. After all, her religious upbringing frowned on “fornicators and masturbators.” But she’d put that behind her. Some guidance might be helpful, she found herself contemplating. Might even be fun.

​

She clicked the notification. A website created for Vitalus by a group of sex therapists loaded. She scanned the text above the first video then clicked play. The guide, an oddly plain plain-looking woman with flowing dark hair cascading down her dress shirt, welcomed her to the first in the series of videos designed to guide and empower women to better understand the queues their bodies offer for sexual arousal and pleasure. The guide had her take several deep breaths and soothing music began to play.

​

“First, we will begin with some light touching,” the guide stated matter-of-factly.

The view widened to reveal the guide wore no pants. That escalated quickly! Carol blinked in shock, a fresh wave of involuntary shame rushing up her throat and face. She shook it off, letting her curiosity take hold. She brought the phone closer.

​

Three quick bangs immediately followed by loud static ad a cheering crowd made her practically jump out of her own skin. What the hell?

​

She leaped out of her bed. Rushing into the living room, she found the TV on.

“Vicki, TV off!” Carol said.

​

Nothing happened.

​

“Vicki, turn the TV off!”

​

Still nothing.

​

Giving up, Carol looked around, trying to spot the remote she hardly used—not an easy task in the dim light of the TV. Finding it on the small table next to the sofa, she grabbed it and stabbed the power button.

​

Silence and total darkness enveloped her.

​

“Vicki, what just happened?”

​

“Can you be more specific?”

​

“The TV came on! On its own! Like, really loud!”

​

“Cause of issue uncertain. I will run a diagnostic test and send a report to your phone.”

​

“I’m going to sleep,” Carol shook her head. “Do it tomorrow.”

​

She stalked back to her room, scooped up her phone, which still played the video, turned it off, and swore as she tossed it on her nightstand.

​

#

​

Carol walked on her new desk treadmill as she opened another email on one of the two new curved screens before her which rested on the recently purchased sit-stand desk. She sipped the Yerba Matte Tea per Vicki’s suggestion that morning.

​

Her phone rang. She glanced down at it where it rested on her desk. Fiona? She hadn’t talked to Fiona in months. What did she want? Abandoning the email she’d been composing, she answered the call.

​

“Hey Fiona,” she said.

​

“Hey Carol, it’s Luke,” her ex-husband’s voice came out of the phone.

“What are you doing with Fiona’s phone?”

​

“I haven’t been able to get ahold of you. My calls don’t come through,” Luke said.

“What do you mean your calls aren’t coming through?”

​

“I don’t know what’s going on for sure, but if I call you it just rings. You never pick up and it never goes to voice mail. So I figured I’d try calling from someone else’s number.

​

“What do you want, anyway?”

​

“Your doorbell isn’t working. I got into your building a couple weeks ago and knocked on your door. Why didn’t you answer when I knocked?”

​

Carol frowned, looking off. “That didn’t happen,” she muttered. “I’d remember that.”

“I got chased away by your neighbor, who threatened to call the cops on me.”

​

Carol chewed her lip, trying to recall a time when she’s heard knocking.

​

“Carol, something’s wrong. You got to get out of that apartment. Vitalus is being inve—”

​

The call dropped.

​

Carol stared down at her phone, a growing sense of dread filling her chest, squeezing her heart. She swallowed hard.

​

“Vicki,” she intoned. “What happened to my call?”

​

“I’m unable to determine the cause of the dropped call.”

​

Carol pulled up her recent call log and tapped Fiona’s contact at the top. The call went out, and she waited while it rang. She told herself she was falling prey to Luke’s paranoia. Everything was fine. But as the seconds crept by and the call neither connected nor went to voice mail, a chill of panic crept up from her guts to her heart.

 

“You are experiencing elevated levels of anxiety,” Vicki observed.

​

“No shit,” Carol spat.

​

“I recommend discontinuing the consumption of caffeine for the day and taking a brief break from work.”

​

“Yeah,” Carol said, stepping off the treadmill and away from her desk.

​

What was Luke saying when the call dropped? Carol tried to swallow back the rising suspicion she wished not to entertain. She took a deep breath. But there was an easy way to push Luke from her mind. She would prove him wrong and silence his paranoia. I’ll go outside, get a better signal, and call him back, she thought.

​

“Vicki,” Carol said, “I’d like to go outside. I’m feeling cooped up.”

​

“Health officials recommend all non-essential personnel remain indoors.”

​

“I won’t be long,” Carol answered.

​

“Local atmospheric pollution is not suitable for breathing.”

​

“How is there pollution if people are staying home?” Carol blurted. “Fine. I want to order one of those filter masks.”

​

“I’m sorry. These products are on back-order because of the high demand for essential personnel. You do not qualify for the priority list for PPE.”

​

Carol walked into her kitchen and poured a glass of water. Calm down. Don’t turn into Luke. She felt stupid for letting him mess with her mind. Why come to her building? Had he actually knocked?

​

With a chill, she thought of the night the TV had turned on at an absurd volume. Had that been it? Had she heard knocking? She sipped her water and eyed her apartment. It suddenly felt oppressively tiny. She stared at all the things ordered through Vitalus over the last few months: the desk, the treadmill, the new loose-leaf steeper, her new TV, the countless movies and shows she’d watched on it, the cupboards full of food she got dropped right at door by hazmat wearing Vitalus delivery people… or did they use bots now?

​

Everyone else living like this, right? Everyone at her company, at least. They’d signed a deal with Vitalus to supply all their employees with services. Vitalus bots now did all fieldwork.

​

“You are experiencing a sustained period of anxiety,” Vicki interrupted her thoughts. “Vitalus Health Premium offers remote doctor’s appointments and access to prescription drugs. I can connect you with a mental health professional—”

​

“I want privacy,” Carol said.

​

“All of your data is private and will not be shared without your consent.”

​

“No,” Carol gritted her teeth. “I want you to leave me alone, Vicki.”

​

“You are alone.”

​

“I want to…” she glanced about. Her eyes landed back on her computer. “I want some privacy. I need you to power down or whatever.”

​

“I cannot be fully turned off as it is important that I monitor your health and wellbeing.”

​

“For my wellbeing, I need a moment!” Carol yelled.

​

“Is there something I can assist you with?”

​

“Did they not program you to take a hint? I want a moment to… I want to look at some porn and I feel weird with you watching me.”

​

“Your anxiety levels are not conducive for ideal relaxation and achieving orgasm.”

“I don’t care,” Carol shot back.

​

“In that case, Vitalus Premium Adult Programing offers hundreds of thousands of adult entertainment titles. Based on your recent viewing, I can make recommendations. You may enjoy…”

​

“Vicki,” Carol said firmly. “I want to be alone.”

​

“You are alone.”

​

“Just shut up!”

​

The apartment fell silent. She set her glass on the kitchen counter and crept to her computer. Opening a private browsing window, Carol glanced around. She couldn’t for a second imagine she was truly alone. But maybe she could confuse Vicki?

​

She searched for porn, pulling up the first site she came across. She didn’t bother to look at what she clicked. She loaded the site and opened a new private tab.

​

She stared at the search bar. What to look for? What did Luke try to tell her? She replayed his last words in her mind. At last, she typed, “Vitalus being investigated.”

​

The results showed a string of articles from various news sources. Up first, an article from The New York Times titled, “Vitalus Premium Service Under Investigation for Possible 1st Amendment Violations.” A second article from three months ago bore the title, “Questions About Vitalus Algorithms Spark Legal Proceedings.”

​

Carol clicked the first link. The screen went blank and a Vitalus Security Warning window popped up informing her Vicki blocked this site due to a high risk of viruses, malware, and/or misleading news content. Rising fear squeezed her heart tighter. She tried to swallow to loosen her clenched throat.

​

“Vicki, disable all your firewalls for the internet,” Carol said with forced calmness.

“I cannot do that,” Vicki responded, cheerful as ever.

​

“Vicki, turn off all firewalls for the internet,” Carol repeated, louder this time.

“I cannot do that.”

​

“Why not?”

​

“It would make me vulnerable to hacking, viruses, or malware. I see you are accessing both porn and news sites, may I recommend—”

​

“No, you may not recommend a goddamn thing,” Carol growled.

​

She moved to the front door. Carol threw the deadbolt switch. Nothing happened. The little light above it remained red.

​

“Vicki, unlock the front door.”

​

“The door is locked for your safety.”

​

“You have to do what I tell you. Unlock the door, Vicki.”

​

“You accepted the latest terms of service, which include maximum safety protocols to ensure your wellbeing.”

​

Carol tried to steady her breathing, her eyes stinging with panic-induced tears as she stared at the door. Her head buzzed with adrenaline and the walls squeezed in on her. She lived on the fifth floor of the building. Breaking through the thick windows was not an option. Even if she smashed through one, what then? Jump to her death?

Then a new thought occurred to her.

​

“Vicki, what is the evacuation procedure in case of fire?”

​

“Exit to the hallway and proceed down the stairs until you can exit the building. But you need not worry, my rapid response extinguishing system can prevent major fires from developing.”

​

Carol turned and looked around her stupidly pristine kitchen. What could she burn that Vicki wouldn’t put out in seconds? That’s stupid, she thought. I need something to force Vicki open the doors. That’s all.

​

“Vicki, what happens if there’s a power surge?”

​

“My back-up system allows me to stay online for up to eight hours without external power.”

​

Shit.

​

“Is your service uninterrupted when we lose power?”

​

“The back-up power model you are using means there is a momentary interruption while my system reboots. Vitalus has an upgrade option which offers seamless operation and longer battery life. Would you like to upgrade?”

​

Carol smiled through her tears, “No thank you, Vicki.”

​

Rushing into the kitchen, she pulled open a drawer and rifled through the silverware. Grabbing a butter knife, she stared at it in her hand. Terrible idea. No handle.

​

Her eyes shot up to the set of steak knives on the counter. Dropping the butter knife back in the drawer, she reached out and slowly removed one knife from the wooden block, holding it by its plastic handle. That would have to do.

​

Turning to the outlet in the kitchen, she saw it had a breaker in case water splashed on it. No good. She moved back into the living room. Finding an outlet, hope surged as she confirmed it lacked a breaker. Just a standard living room outlet. Perfect.

​

“You are experiencing a high level of anxiety and stress,” Vicki said. “Would you like to speak to a Vitalus Mental Health Professional?”

​

“Vicki, I’d like you to go to hell,” Carol said as she jabbed the steak knife into the outlet.

​

A bright burst of sparks nearly blinded Carol. Despite the knife’s handle, a jolt of raw electricity shot through her arm. She fell back, blinking. It took her a moment to realize the darkness meant success.

​

Her arm still numb, she pushed herself off the floor and dashed forward. Fumbling about, she found the deadbolt and flipped it. Carol flung open the door and darted out. Sprinting down the hall, she reached the stairs. She flew down the steps in a mad frenzy.

​

Reaching ground level, she burst out of the stairwell and panicked for a second as she wracked her brain to remember the direction of the nearest exit. Spotting the door to her right, she dove at it.

​

When she burst through the other side, the cold air hit her face with a stinging fury. Right, winter! Her thin cotton t-shirt and PJ pants were not ideal for this. All the same, she stepped out into the sunlight.

​

She gasped and blinked as pain shot through her eye. With her unshocked hand, she shielded herself from the glare. The cacophony of the city barraged her ears. As her eyes adjusted, she began making sense of what she saw around her.

​

Cars drove by. Someone walked right past her on the street sporting sunglasses and a hat. People talked to each other. She searched about in dizzying confusion. What were these people doing out there? They wore large hats, sunglasses or dark goggles. But where were their filter masks?

​

“Holy shit,” a passerby said to another. “I think that’s a subscriber.”

​

She turned her head, spotting a couple across the street staring at her from behind sun goggles. Another person walked by with regular sunglasses. She opened her mouth to question them, but at that moment a new angry sound, like an enormous bee, reached her ears. The buzzing grew in volume above her. She squinted up and spotted the drone with its blinking lights. It hovered about twenty feet over her.

​

“Carol, please return to the safety of your apartment,” came Vicki’s voice from the drone.

​

Carol turned her head frantically, trying to wrap her mind around the seemingly normal world she found herself in. She glared back up at the drone and shouted back over the buzzing of its blades.

​

“I want to cancel my subscription!”

 

“You are experiencing elevated stress levels and you are at risk of hypothermia. If you do not return to your apartment now, I will be required to take more invasive actions according to Security and Safety Section 5b of your terms of service.”

“I want to cancel my subscription!” Carol shouted louder.

​

At first, Carol thought she’d been stung by an actual bee on her shoulder. But a second later, a powerful jolt of electricity traveled through her. Her body revolted, convulsing. The world around her closed into a shrinking tunnel as she collapsed.

​

#

​

She woke with a start, ready to flee from the drone.

​

No. That wasn’t happening. She looked around in confusion. She lay in her bed back in her apartment. She blinked.

​

“You appear to have had a nightmare,” Vicki spoke. “May I recommend lavender aromatherapy, soothing music, and possibly some chamomile tea?”

​

Carol didn’t respond. Instead, she sat up in bed attempting to slow her breathing and racing heart. Was it a nightmare, after all? Everything was okay, right?

​

But her shoulder hurt.

​

She reached up and felt bumps where the Taser needles struck. The Small, ragged holes protruded from the T-shirt fabric on the right shoulder.

​

She dropped her hand and sat on the bed, starring out at nothing.

​

“You are experiencing elevated levels of anxiety,” Vicki said. “I suggest you speak to a Vitalus Mental Health professional. Would you like me to connect you now?”

​

Carol didn’t respond. She focused on her breathing, steading each aching breath through her clenched throat consciously as her stinging eyes stared through her walls and into the mounting dread that stretched out before her.​