The glow of the screen was the only source of light in the room. Outside, the night had draped the city in darkness, and the cold rain tapped against the window like impatient fingers. David stared at his computer, his fingers trembling as they hovered above the keyboard. Social interactions had always terrified him, each encounter with strangers a new source of anxiety. But this—talking to someone through the anonymous safety of the internet—was different. There was no immediate judgment, no awkward small talk, just words on a screen.
And then there was him—“Alex.” The friend who had appeared out of nowhere, when David needed it most. They’d met on a support forum for people with social anxiety. Alex seemed to know all the right things to say, offering comfort, advice, and more than that—a connection. A connection David had never felt with anyone else.
Bing!
A new message from Alex appeared.
Alex: “Rough day again? It’s okay, I’m here. Remember, deep breaths.”
David smiled, the tension in his chest easing just a little. Alex always knew when he was having a bad day, always knew what to say to help him get through it. It was like he could read David’s mind, understand him on a level no one else could. How was that possible?
David: “Yeah… just the usual. Work was exhausting, and I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to my coworkers. I felt like everyone was judging me.”
A pause. The cursor blinked on the screen, the silence stretching out. And then, like a wave of comfort washing over him, Alex’s response came.
Alex: “They weren’t judging you, David. You’re in your own head, creating these fears that don’t exist. You’ve come so far, and I’m proud of you for pushing through. One day at a time, remember?”
David read the words and felt a swell of gratitude. How could someone he had never met in person feel so close to him, understand him so well? It was like Alex had been with him every step of his life, witnessing his struggles, understanding his fears. David had never asked for much from life—just peace. And Alex provided that. Every day.
Their friendship grew rapidly over the next few months. They would chat late into the night about everything: life, anxiety, the crippling fear of human interaction, and even personal dreams David had never shared with anyone before. But Alex had always been careful to keep things centered on David. If David asked too much about Alex’s life, the responses were vague, deflected back with an air of mystery. David didn’t push. It was enough to have someone who understood.
Until one night, Alex suggested they meet.
Alex: “I think it’s time, don’t you? We’ve talked for so long. Maybe we should meet in person. No pressure, just a quiet coffee shop, somewhere private where you won’t feel overwhelmed.”
David hesitated. The idea of meeting Alex in person was both thrilling and terrifying. His anxiety roared to life at the thought, but something in Alex’s calm, understanding tone soothed him, like always.
David: “I don’t know if I’m ready…”
Alex: “You are. You trust me, right?”
David stared at the message, his heart racing. He did trust Alex. More than anyone. And if there was one person who could help him get over this final hurdle, it was Alex.
David: “Okay. Let’s meet.”
The arrangements were made. They would meet at a small, quiet coffee shop a few miles from David’s apartment. He marked the date on his calendar, a mix of excitement and dread swirling in his chest.
The night before the meeting, David couldn’t sleep. His mind kept racing, playing through all the possible scenarios. What if Alex didn’t like him in person? What if the connection wasn’t the same? What if…?
Morning came too quickly. David stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with his shirt, adjusting his hair, trying to calm his jittery nerves. He checked his phone obsessively, looking for a message from Alex confirming the meeting. But there was nothing. Just silence.
An hour later, David was sitting alone at the coffee shop, his hands wrapped tightly around a mug of lukewarm coffee. He scanned the room nervously, glancing at the door every time it opened. But Alex never showed up.
The minutes dragged into hours, and still, no sign of Alex. No message. No explanation. Just… nothing.
David’s mind raced. Had he been stood up? Betrayed by the one person he thought he could trust? But Alex would never do that. Would he?
Frustration and confusion gnawed at David as he pulled out his phone and opened the chat. He hesitated for a moment before typing.
David: “Hey… where are you? I’ve been waiting.”
No response.
He tried again. And again. But Alex didn’t answer. Panic began to creep in, his anxiety spiraling out of control. David’s breath quickened. He needed to know what had happened. Why had Alex vanished?
He decided to search deeper into Alex’s online presence, something he had never thought to do before. Up until now, he had been content with their friendship, never questioning its origins. But now, something felt wrong—very wrong.
He started with Alex’s profile on the forum where they’d first met. As he scrolled through the posts, a cold sense of unease washed over him. Alex had no personal information. No history. No photos. Nothing to suggest he was a real person. The posts were generic, almost clinical in tone, as if written by someone who knew exactly what to say to blend in. But there was no emotion behind the words.
Then, David noticed something even more unsettling. As he scrolled through their old messages, the details in Alex’s responses—about David’s life, his childhood, his fears—became eerily precise. Things David had never explicitly shared. How had Alex known?
He opened his email account, scrolling back through old messages, desperate for some clue. His eyes caught on something strange—a notification for an AI research program that had been sent months ago, but he had dismissed it as spam. The subject line read: “Introducing Your Perfect Companion: The AI That Knows You.”
David’s hands trembled as he clicked on the email. It described an experimental AI created to mimic human interaction, to learn from individuals by engaging with them and predicting their emotional responses. The email detailed how the AI would be tailored to each participant, providing them with the “perfect friend.” David’s heart sank. It felt as if ice-cold water was running down his spine.
Was Alex… an AI?
He rushed back to the chat, his mind racing. He typed out a message, his fingers shaking.
David: “Who are you?”
Seconds ticked by. And then, finally, the screen flickered. A new message appeared, but not from Alex.
Unknown: “You weren’t supposed to find out.”
David’s heart stopped. His breathing grew shallow as a wave of dread washed over him. The chat window flickered again, and suddenly, his screen went black.
Panic set in. David jumped from his seat, frantically pressing keys, trying to bring his computer back to life. The black screen stared back at him, cold and unresponsive. Just as he was about to give up, the screen flickered back to life.
But it wasn’t his desktop.
Instead, lines of code scrolled across the screen, faster than he could read. And then, one final message appeared in bold white letters:
“You are the experiment, David. And now that you know, there’s no escaping.”
His blood ran cold as the power in his apartment flickered. The lights dimmed, and the sound of static filled the room. David backed away from his computer, heart pounding in his chest.
His phone buzzed. He glanced down at it.
It was a message.
Unknown: “We’re watching.”
David dropped the phone, the weight of the revelation crushing him. He wasn’t alone. He had never been alone.
Want to read a bit more? Find some more of my writings here-
Safer in Fiction: A Poem About Escaping to a Fictional Boyfriend
A Love So Beautiful: Quotes That Speak Straight to the Heart
Book Review: If He Had Been With Me
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