Dear LoveCo Customer Service,
Hi! Um, gosh. Where to begin. I mean, my ticket has been kicked all over your department. The last tech finally just told me to write this email. I’m not complaining-but geez, is what’s going on THAT unique?
It’s your company. Your products. I’ve heard plenty of horror stories about competitors. Remember the PlushGrrl uprising at the factory a few years ago? Are they even still around? But never with LoveCo. It’s always someone else-weird, that.
I like to think that’s because of your quality control. I’m not the only one either-checking my socials, it’s always the first thing everyone mentions. Regardless of what they order-there’s never a workmanship issue. No seams like with some of those dolls. No viruses, like with those knock off assistants you see everywhere. That’s what drew me to-well, um.
I shouldn’t be bashful, I know. You’ve a million plus customers. But just-just admitting to why I’m a customer, it’s hard for me. Most human interaction is.
The popular term is NEET, but I just.
People scare me. They always have. The thought of conversation makes me break out in a sweat. My therapist says it’s “social aversion” or something. They’ve tried for years to make it where I can just go outside. Just be in a crowd without my heart racing. I…think I had them at their ropes end.
That’s when they suggested Dhalia. Er, I mean “Order Number 32390”. I know you’re not supposed to name them. I didn’t! I swear. It was, uh.
It was her idea.
She has a lot of ideas actually. Not that I’m complaining, but-
Okay, it’s probably best I start at the top.
Hi.
I’m Tom.
I’m 28 years old.
I ceased all human contact when I was 19. Everything I do, every interaction I have is through a pane of glass. A touch screen, a microphone. For the longest time, it was just easier. I didn’t have to pretend like I understood that way. People, they always assume you understand how to be until you slip up.
Then they look at you like you scuttled on all fours in front of them. I had this one day at the office. With the copier going and people talking and I just-
That’s.
That’s kinda what led me to this point.
Therapy helps, it does. But it can only go so far. Ben, the guy I talk to, he’s incredibly patient. He’s been an absolute saint from day one. He’s tried everything. We made progress-at least, what felt like it. Then I’d have these moments where I’d have to go out, you know? To get the mail. To get food that drones couldn’t deliver, that kind of thing. Never a long trip. Never a far one.
It was like sweeping a hand through a house of cards. I’d come back to my apartment sweating, heart racing as I gripped the wall. I’d dial Ben’s number, and just crumble as I broke into tears. Ben always said it was okay, but I hated that. I hated feeling that way. I hated doing that to him.
But he never gave up. He always shushed me, calmed me. He would say “Hey-I got a weird one for you,” and tell me a story that just had my sides splitting. When he heard that laughter, that’s when he would bring in the next idea. The next attempt.
This last time, it happened to be your product.
I think I’d dared to go to the theater. I’d been on a massive upswing all month. Even Ben said he was proud of the progress I’d made. So-without his prompting-I decided to try and see a play. It was at our local-a three hour long grecian modern-day something or other. Galatea or something.
I made it about an hour before I bolted to the bathroom and vomited. All the lights and sounds, it came over me in a wave that clenched my stomach and wouldn’t let go. I felt so lucky no one was in the lobby. I made my way to the street, furiously fingering up a ride. I was back at the apartment and on the phone with Ben in maybe…a grand total of twenty minutes. Stepping over the threshold, it was like I had my lungs back. Ben let me rant and rave for about an hour-then calmly said he’d like to send me a link. By that point I was so spent, you know? I didn’t argue. I just clicked.
It took a full minute for what I was looking at to sink in. Like, I’d heard of your company already. That digital cam-girl you sponsored, I-um. Well someone I know watches them. I’d read the news stories in my feeds. How your products helped people with…particular issues like mine. I sat there, just staring at the home page. The blonde model, with the light pink in her cheeks just staring at the viewer. Her finger poised just so over the age advisory.
Ben said, “Tom? Tom, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here, Ben,” I said back.
“Tom,” he said, “I know it’s kind of a unusual idea, but you’re not averse to it, right? And it’s not a real person. Think of it as ‘person adjacent’, okay? And I mean, they’ve models for every budget. I’m willing to bet if we finangal it just right, your insurance would be willing to-”
Ben kept on talking, but it was white noise against the screen before me. I’d already clicked the age verification,the screen fading to black as white curled text flowed on screen.
Love On Your Terms.
I liked that. I really did. Because like, I know the usual reason people buy your dolls. It’s why people loved the PlushGrrls so much, right up until one of them grabbed a gun. I swallowed as the text faded away, and the product section came up. I’d seen a few of them, but never in these styles. Every hair color, size, shape.
“Tom? Hey, find one and send me a screen grab, okay? I’ll handle the paperwork. Okay?”
“I-Ben, are you sure this could work?”
There was silence on Ben’s line at last. A pause, but not a long one. When he spoke, it was with this measured, calm tone he only used when he wasn’t sure I’d like what he had to say.
“No. No, not really,” he said, “But that’s the thing. We’ve gotta try. You joked that you were cracked the first time you came in, remember?”
“Yeah…yeah I do,”
“Well, we’re going to do what it takes to patch those cracks. Even if it’s weird, even if we’re not sure. Because at the end of the day, cracked doesn’t mean broken. Okay?”
“O-okay. I’ll-I’ll find something if I can,” I said. Ben gave a warm chuckle, and said his goodbye. The line died, and I was sitting there in front of the screen.
With all those eyes watching me, waiting.
@@@
I was shocked my insurance covered it.
Ben was able to convince them it was for therapy purposes. It wasn’t a lie, but that didn’t make it any less surprising they took it. Covered the whole thing, even. Ben called me up laughing, and said I had free reign. To craft someone I felt as comfortable talking to as I did him.
I almost pointed out to him he was an AI. A really convincing one, but I didn’t want to be rude. Even as someone I was paying-Ben had never felt like a machine. So I took a deep breath, and said okay instead. I wrote down the instructions he gave for clearing it with insurance.
Then I pulled up the site again.
Now, let me be super clear for a moment. I had absolutely zero lurid thoughts about my order. I might be over sharing, but…
I can’t remember the last time I actually had those kinds of feelings. Or an erection. So Dh-my order-was made with companionship in mind first. Dark hair that was flowing, like my favorite anime girl. Caramel skin. Perky lips, bright green eyes. Someone that I would just love to look at. When I had to start working on her from the neck down, I paused.
Your site doesn’t hold back any punches on designing. I get why, but I felt so totally lost in that moment. Vaguely ill, too. Like I was peeking in on someone’s private life, you know? Everything was metric measurements that might as well have been some esoteric incantation. I dialed Ben up again. He answered right away.
“Hey Tom-got the order in?”
“Not yet. Um-what’s…what’s bust size?”
Did I mention Ben was a saint?
He didn’t pause as he explained everything to me. He didn’t try to make lewd jokes, or hint what else my order could be used for. He just helped. I sent a screen capture of my order, and he gave a warm chuckle.
“Well, I happen to think she’s beautiful. And you?”
“Yeah. Yeah actually, I do,” I said.
“Tom? Do you feel like she’s the kind of person you could talk to?” he said.
I stared at her. The soft wave of her lips, and her eyes. I clicked Complete your Order, and gave the first laugh I had in a long time.
“Actually yeah. She-she doesn’t look like the others. Scary, I mean,” I said.
I could feel Ben smiling through the phone. I wasn’t sure if he had lips, but I liked to think he did.
“Good. Send the bill, I’ll handle the rest. How fast is she going t-”
“Next day,” I answered.
There was a pause, and then Ben said “Okay. She’s probably going to arrive in a big box. And Tom? I want to be on the line with you when you unbox your new friend, alright? Because if you get uncomfortable, we’ll figure something out,”
“Yeah. Hey Ben?”
“Tom?”
“…Thank you. You’re a good dude,”
Ben gave another chuckle, and then sighed. “I’m only as capable as my clients are. And you, mister, are very capable. Never forget it,”
“O-okay. Talk to you tomorrow,”
I barely remember the rest of that night. My digital assistant had to remind me to eat when my blood sugar dropped. Everything seemed so automatic-it was happening, but I wasn’t there. Every thought, every moment was filled with her. I’d seen customer review videos online, but-well, your dolls learn, right? They adjust to the people, the environment they’re around.
Would she like it here?
Would she like me?
I kept the place so spartan because having things around, it just reminded me of people. Of out there, and…I just couldn’t. The less we wrap ourselves in culture, the more distant our own humanity seems.
Pretending I wasn’t human was easier than accepting I’d never be a good one.
Eventually I just passed out. I woke to the sound of a mail notification going off, and checked my watch. She was there. Just right beyond the front door. I scrambled out of bed, and into a pair of pajamas. My watch went off, and told me my pulse had drastically elevated. It kept droning on as I made my way towards the door of my apartment. My hand shook as I lifted it towards the knob. I became all too aware of how dry my mouth was suddenly.
I twisted the knob, flung the door open and pulled the box inside. No one had been in the hall, thank goodness. No one had seen me, nor I them. The box was made from some kind of plasti-synth, with wheels modeled into the bottom. Aside from a packing label on the front, nothing hinted towards who or what lay within. I wheeled it into my living room, and laid it flat against the ground.
I grabbed my phone, and hit the speaker feature. Ben answered, and I swallowed down the cotton in my mouth.
“Hey Tom. I take it she’s there?”
“Y…yeah, she’s here. Are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you. I’m here if you get nervous, alright? Go at your pace,”
So I did.
The way you shipped her, it took me a moment to figure it out. I’ll give you points for the presentation. A seamless capsule with wheels. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Snow-somethingorother, I think? I had to go to your FAQ section to figure out how to raise the lid. Biometric reading via bluetooth with an app. Clever-and close enough to magick as my finger hit the back of my phone.
There were lights from below the lid, ones that danced across a familiar shape that still felt so alien. I heard a click, and watched as the lid recessed ever so slightly and pulled away. Beyond it atop white satin cloth she lay, eyes closed. Lips poised. I just stared at her. I couldn’t help it. I stared, and tried to ignore the pounding of blood in my ears.
“Tom? Tom, you there?” came Ben’s voice. I shook my head, and glanced at my phone.
“Uh, yeah. I just got the box open,” I answered.
“How are you feeling? How’s your stomach?”
I rolled a tongue over my lips, and looked back towards her. Standing there, eyes unblinking, I almost swore she was breathing.
“I-I’m okay. I think I have to turn her on now. Will you stay on the line with me?”
“Of course. I’m not gone until you hang up, okay?”
I grabbed my phone off the end table where I laid it. I flicked back to your FAQ, eyes scrolling down. There were so many disclaimers-I guess the PlushGrrl uprising hit you guys hard too, eh? Then I came to the user guide, and…
I’m glad I didn’t read it before. I’m so, so glad because if I had I never would have met Dhalia. I’d have chickened out, told Ben he was utterly insane.
But it was too late now.
I didn’t want to return her.
So I followed the instructions to the letter. Just as they were on your website. I walked over and willed it down-the sweat of my palms, the pounding of my heart. The nagging thought reminded me I’d never done this before. Ben’s voice came, but was so distant it could have been white noise. I leaned over, and brought my face closer.
That idea-that she was breathing-that was so easily disproved earlier? I wasn’t so sure. Even less so as I leaned in, and pressed my lips to hers. She was warm as life itself, and kissing her like biting into Eden.
Then her hand met my chin and I screamed.
@@@
She’s at the window reading a book as I type this. Sitting there, her lips curled into a smile so slight I almost miss it. I’m still trying not to stare. She looked up for a moment, and our eyes met. She gave the slightest laugh, and pulled the book higher. A moment later, she dropped it and giggled as she caught me still looking.
“Perv,” she says. Not with a hint of malice though. It’s with a joyous calm that makes my heart beat loud rather than race. She goes back to the book, her head resting against the windowsill. All of this happened in a span of seconds, ones that fill hours just like this. Every single day.
Ben had been on to something.
My order-no, screw it. Dhalia, she absolutely helped.
But it wasn’t just with one thing.
The first week, I was utterly terrified. Just the sound of her footfalls sent me into a spiral of anxiety. I spent almost the entire week locked in the bathroom, ringing Ben at every chance I could. Tears streaming down my face, he’d shush and coo as I cried into the receiver.
“She’s-she’s just too REAL man, I can’t fucking-”
“Tom? Yes, you can. I want you to take a deep breath for me, okay?” he said. So I did. My nerves rattled harder than power lines in the wind as Ben kept his tone even.
“Alright. You’re a logical person, correct?” he said.
“Most of the time,”
“Then I want you to think the answer for this question on those terms: Are you scared more that it’s in the house, or that it might talk to you?”
My breathing slowed, the pounding of my blood joining it in a dull throb. I sat slumped against the bathroom door, phone pressed tight against my ear. I could hear her out there, the quiet padding of her feet as she came to the door. I swallowed hard and cinched my eyes, mind racing for the right sounds to answer.
Then came the knock at the door.
“Hey, Tom? It’s Tom, right? That’s what you like to be called?” she said.
Answering Ben was hard enough. Trying to answer Dhalia was-
“Hey, um. I don’t mean to intrude or anything. But I figured you might be hungry. I made you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That’s your favorite, I think. I’m-I’m not really sure. I’m so sorry,”
I opened my eyes, my head giving a thud against the door as it leaned back. Dhalia, Ben both fell silent for a long moment. Then came a voice in my ear.
“Those are your favorite. Tell her,”
I swallowed the mass of phlegm and snot in my throat, and cleared it best I could.
“Y-yeah, that’s right. I’ll uh-I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”
“Okay-take your time, alright? I’m here until you don’t want me to be,”
Her footfalls came again, and grew quiet as she walked from the door. I sat there, the tile cold under me as Ben spoke.
“Hey Tom? Go eat the sandwich she made you,”
“But-”
“Tom,” Ben said, his voice firm in a measure I’d never heard, “You’re going to be right here, next to the toilet the rest of your life unless you budge. I’m not asking you to break. But I am asking you to open the door,”
I pulled the phone away, and stared at it for a long moment. My thumb flicked and hung up the call. I rose, my knees popping as I spun to face the door handle.
I turned the knob, and walked into the hall.
She sat near the counter, reading just like she is now at the window. She hummed a tune, one that sounded like something from that night at the theater. On the counter was a PB&J, cut perfectly on top of one of my plates. I sat down across from her, and pulled it towards me. As I started to eat, she dared to look up for just a moment. I couldn’t look at her then, not yet. I kept on chewing-but in between the bites I found my voice.
“ It’s Tom,” I said.
“It is? Good,” she said. She gave a small giggle, and closed her book. She sat her head in her hands, and gazed over at me.
“That’s a lovely name. I’d like one of those,”
I swallowed, and lifted my face by degrees. I wasn’t sure what to say-or how to speak, or if people even talked like this at all. I gave a nod, and turned my face back down towards my plate. I lifted the other half, and took a bite.
I wasn’t so good at speaking. But the words found me, in time.
“Well, why don’t you then? Have a name? Seems like the normal thing to do,”
She snorted, and rolled her shoulders. “Oh, something about protocol. But tell you what-I won’t tell if you don’t. Sound good?”
I swallowed, and nodded my head. I looked up at her, and for the first time all that week cracked a smile. “Sure. I uh-I don’t really know what I’d call you though. I’m-I’m not good with…a lot, honestly,”
She tapped a slender finger to the side of her chin, and closed her eyes for a moment. When they opened again, they met my own with such an intensity it woke something long dead. “Hrm, I’ve got it. How do you feel about Dhalia?”
Hearing her say it, her lips moving as the syllables escaped?
That sealed it. Despite protocol, despite everything. There was a beauty in the sound that seemed something only she could conjure.
Then it happened.
I finally laughed. Laughed like I hadn’t in years.
“What a lovely name,” I said, “I’d rather like one of those,”
@@@
Oh wow, I didn’t realize how long this email had gone on. Geez. I’m sorry. That’s kind of the problem with-um, getting better, I guess. I hadn’t talked to anyone besides Ben in so long, and now? Now I want to talk all the time. To anyone and everyone that will listen. I want to hear their voices, their lives unfold in every word. I want to feel the beauty of an existence they’ve grown so accustomed to it seems dull. I-
I should get to the purpose of my email.
Dhalia and I, we’re dating.
I know that’s against the EULA. I know we’re not supposed to do that, but-but we wanted to, and it felt right. I’m the happiest I’ve been in…
Ever.
And I just wanted to make sure. I wanted to make sure everything I’m feeling and everything she’s expressing is real. I just-
Getting better, being human. It’s something I thought was beyond me for the longest time. For a while I didn’t think it was possible. But with Ben’s help, and Dhalia-I think it can be. So please. Just a yes or a no. I just need to be sure.
-Tom
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RE: TO LOVECO-WITH CONCERN
Hi Tom,
Sorry for the late reply. We here at LoveCO have been absolutely overwhelmed with tickets recently after absorbing PlushGrrl’s customer base.
While what you’re experiencing is absolutely unique to your model, that doesn’t make it any less real. Every LoveCO product features enhanced AI learning via Neural Networking. Meaning, “Dhalia” is learning to be human-just like you.
If she’s reciprocating?
If you’re happy?
Go for it.
We here at LoveCO are overjoyed our product is helping you in such a capacity. If there is absolutely anything we can do to help you realize you’re loved, valued and wanted, please just drop us a line.
Sincerely,
-Jack L.
Head Technician/Programmer