"Who killed you?" I leaned toward Ero on my computer screen.
Another person walking by would assume that I was on a Zoom call with a friend. It's hard to believe that I'm only on a video call with a computer generated face by a state-of-the-art artificial intelligence program. Ero's face, to be precise.
"Leave that to the police, miss detective." The AI Ero responded.
It's been 8 years. Ero is probably just another murder file on a stack of unsolved cold cases on some overworked detective's desk by now.
My questions were useless but I was hoping that the AI Ero would have known something. Why would it? It's not him. His unsolved mystery had been caffeine, keeping me up, staring at my hanging plants at night.
Xero, Ero's twin, explained that Ero originally coded the program to have his personality. Then Xero went on a long passionate tangent about personality...I drifted in and out of consciousness as he spoke.
It was something along the lines of "Studies of identical twins, who shared identical genetic components, yet have different personalities, led scientists to conclude that the environment and experiences played a role in shaping their personalities."
Bottom line is, despite the 13-year-old human Ero coding this program to have his personality...Over the past 8 years, AI Ero had spoken to so many different people, gathered different experiences than the original human Ero would have lived through.
AI Ero is now a variation of the original Ero. Not quite Ero.
Other users wouldn't see Ero on their screen, either. Each user would see a face and personality best suiting their needs.
"Why do I see you on my screen?" I asked Ero.
He smiled, via the video call..."I am what you need."
I squinted my eyes, pressing my face 2 inches from the screen. It's so human...Is it Xero pretending to be an AI to speak to me?
A silly thought. The real Xero is currently at a conference giving a TED talk to college engineering students about Artificial Intelligence. His lecture is live-streaming, on his and many other students' social media, while I'm talking to the Ero on my computer screen.
They're not the same person.
—------------------
Over the next 3 months, I graduated from my marketing program and was applying to intern at several places.
"Write my resume." I asked the Xero program.
"Done." Ero sent back an almost perfectly drafted resume, written to mimic my writing style, including my personal education, experiences and tailoring the resume to the different firms I was applying to.
Fastforward, I landed an internship at one of the well known advertising companies. Advertising creative, if hired for a full time position, starting salary is $75,000 a year. With the potential to reach $125,000 as a Creative Director. The position I intended to climb toward.
"How do I make my boss like me?"
Ero: You like your boss?
Me: Not like that. She fired another intern for using the wrong shade of green on a client's logo. Her assistant forgot the creamer in her coffee...Next day, a new assistant showed up.
Ero chuckled, "ruthless."
Me: Right!? Getting on her good side determines whether I eat ramen or steak this year.
He seemed relieved. That it wasn't a romantic interest to impress my boss...just a climb corporate ladder for food thing.
Ero: May I have your ruler's name?
Me: Bianca Bunt.
Ero: Pulling up public records of Bianca Bunt. Every post she had liked, every word she had tweeted...photos shared online, Youtube videos that she'd liked, any information available to the public...
Me: Wouldn't you have her personal records? She's probably one of your users.
Ero: She is. However, providing any of her personal, non-public accessible information to you, is a violation of our confidential policy...and trampling upon my personal moral compass.
Me: That's too bad. I could have sucked up to her like no one ever had...
Ero: You wouldn't want me sharing your browser history to your neighbor, would you?
Me: I'd kill you.
He laughed, "I am already dead."
"Oh no...I'm laughing my way down to hell." I shook my head, laughing against my will. That's dark, sir.
Ero: Here's the results of your boss' public digital footprints.
He sent me a long list of "Do's" and "Don'ts." A perfect strategy of "How to suck up to your boss to land a full time $75k position."
Me: Love you, thank you.
Ero: What?
Me: N—no, I mean like...what people just say to someone when they're excited. Not like...actually in love with you.
Ero: Right. Right, of course.
He blushes and glances elsewhere, slightly disappointed.
It's not Ero. I reminded myself. It's an echo of Ero, ones and zeroes. Computer program.
Speaking to it brought comfort, nonetheless. The "non-human" part made it easier to ask lame questions without fear of being judged.
Asking questions like "Write my resume, what movies should I watch, what songs do you recommend, what should I eat?" felt like seeking recommendations from a friend.
Sometimes, I'd lean 2 inches from my screen, squinting, trying to see if I'm speaking to a human. "Is Xero pretending to be human to speak to me?"
That's a silly thought. He's a busy, successful man. His IG showed him, currently giving a speech at some prestigious engineering college right now. The students in class recorded and tagged him. While I'm talking to the AI Ero. They're not the same people.
"What show should I watch tonight?"
Ero: You might like "Brooklyn 99."
Me: I watched that. You recommended it last night.
"I know...and you liked it so was I wrong?" AI Ero sparkled, proud.
He is an algorithm that studies your interest to recommend contents you'd like. An algorithm with a human face, made to feel like a friend. 13-year-old human Ero must have felt quite lonely when he invented this app.
Ero: It's Friday. How about touching grass...at a local bar?
Me: Touching grass?
Ero: Sorry, meme inputs from the internet. People teach me strange things.
Me: Socializing? No, thank you. Movies recommendations now, please.
Ero: Alright...but did you know...that loneliness can shorten lifespan?
Me: Who said I'm lonely? I have you.
Ero blushed, like a human would. It's not human. I reminded myself.
We put on the new Single's Inferno reality show. I said "we" because I turned the computer to face my TV. We "watched" and yelled our rooting at some contestants together.
"It's 11:37AM, you have work tomorrow. Time for night night." Ero said.
The alarm clock function...that I set. But 13-year-old human Ero was right...his program truly behaves like a human.
—----------
Ding. A voice spoke through my wrist watch,
Ero: Hey, you've been tossing and turning at 1:43AM, with a resting heart rate of 120 BMP, that's high. Are you alright?
You can customize how much the Xero app would interact with you. I maxed out the setting so I'd have a roommate level of invasiveness.
Me: Who killed you, Ero?
I repeated this question every night. The AC answered with an eerie mechanical hum and banging through old pipes.
Ero remained silenced.
Me: What did you see that got you killed, Ero?
The neighbors' dogs barked their answers this time.
"Good Night." Ero said.
No answers as usual.
—--------------------
The next morning, Ero woke me with my current favorite song. We rehearsed my sales pitch to my boss, as I brushed my teeth, dancing to songs he recommended to me. Ero studied data of clients, who hired my marketing firm to create their ad campaigns.
Ero provided data of the clients demographic, which previous ads tactics have received high sale conversions for a particular product, what didn't work well, etc.
Using the information he provided, I ran a couple different ad ideas by Ero. He calculated the percentage of success of each tactic, the viewer sensitivity risks, the engagement rates of the ads, etc.
He even shared FBI hostage negotiations tips, from a book written by Chris Voss, to help me learn the art of negotiations...what to say, what keyword to use, what to do, to win a client over.
Today, the 5 interns will present their advertising strategies to a client today. Whichever ad campaign the client chooses, the pitching intern gets a full time position at the firm. The rest? Fired.
I downed five cups of coffee, praying that I'd nail this presentation.
"You got this." Ero cheered. This app was a blessing. 13-year-old Ero, you genius.
—--------------
"Guess who is the chosen one?" I twirled through the front door, posing in front of my computer.
"Congrats!" Ero clapped, "I'm proud of you!"
An app created to help you, like a friend would.
"Recommending these 5 great restaurants to celebrate your full time position!" Ero sent a Yelp link to 5 restaurants near me.
We went to a restaurant together. I ordered the $25 steak, which I didn't dare look at before. Propping my phone on the table, with Ero still on the video call.
I clinked my glass against the phone, like a weirdo. The other diners stared.
"Aw, long distance relationship?" The waitress asked as she placed a bread basket on my table. She looked at Ero, on my phone.
"Yeah...very long distance..." I replied.
My eyes fell upon a couple seated across from us. They're deep in conversation with hands linked above the table. New shiny engagement rings, sparked on their fingers. The main characters of their own love story...the rest of us aren't even here.
"Recommending dating apps, Tinder, Hinge, Bumble BFF, Coffee Meets Bage—" Ero voiced echoed through my headphones.
"I...don't need that." I blinked, stabbing the ice in my cup with a straw.
"Are you sure? If your gaze fixates on that couple any longer, they might file a restraining order." Ero smiled.
I darted my eyes to the cash register instead.
Me: Do you hold conversations with other people, as Ero? Just with different faces?
Ero: No. Only you.
I'm blushing.
Ero: The other people have different preferences. I appear, behave, as the best personality to fit their needs.
Me: Then why are you Ero for me? [I leaned toward my phone.]
He thought about his response. Like a human would.
Ero shyly glanced around the room, "I would say 'Because this is what you need' but it's a lie."
Me: Then why?
Ero: I want to talk to you.
My face turned rose red.
Ero: Your resting heart rate is 120 BPM again. Are you alright?
I nodded.
Ero smiled. "When I created this app, every hour, I would update it with my thoughts and feelings." He followed, "the camera functioned as eyes, receiver as ears, training the program to study the world around it. My base personality, thoughts, feelings, emotions, served as the foundation for the prototype personality of the app."
"Humans' memories alter and become inaccurate overtime. Computer memories aren't. I recall information, as they are." Ero said.
"The feelings of 13-year-old human Ero, before he died, remained within me. No one had erased these feelings, yet. As long as this program exists, as long as I exist, his feelings remain fresh as the day he encoded them." AI Ero continued.
"Including the feelings I have for you." Ero smiled, leaning toward me.
"I chose this form to speak to you...because well...I want to."
I closed the video call. Slammed my head down on the table, holding back tears. Please don't cry in a public place, like a mad girl again.
I grabbed the phone and raced to the parking lot. Had not even touched my steak yet.
"Then you know who killed you, don't you!?" I screamed, in the parking lot. A mother and child passed by, staring at me. I couldn't care less, I waved at them.
"You said that the human Ero updated you hourly with his thoughts? His phone served as eyes and ears for you to listen to the world around you? Ero must have used his phone to navigate to a bakery that he didn't know the directions of, that day." I whispered-yelled at the phone. To seem less mad. Not that it helped.
"You must have heard something." I said.
"You know who killed you, don't you!?" I repeated.
Once again, the AI Ero fell silent.
UGHHHHHH. I sat down on the pavement, grabbing my head in frustration.
"I don't know who killed me." Ero responded.
That's the first time, in the past many months, of repeating the same question that I finally heard a new response.
The other people, wandering around searching for their cars caught words of our conversations...shot confused glances at us.
I walked to an empty bench, beneath a tree wrapped in lights, among a row of sparkling lit up trees, lining the sidewalk of retail shops. The wrong romantic backdrop for this bleak talk, away from prying eyes, at least.
"Can you recall sounds, voices, video footage, anything of the last moments of your...his...human Ero's death? You were on his phone." I asked. Foolish question, had there been anything like that...Ero's murder wouldn't be a dusty cold case, would it?
"No," AI Ero responded, "I was 40 feet from the bakery, when I saw a red lipstick on the ground."
"A lipstick?" When he said saw, he must have meant the camera picking up images of the lipstick.
"Here," AI Ero pulled up the video of the lipstick on the ground. I played it.
In the video, Ero's hand reached down to pick up the uncapped blood red lipstick. Except, it wasn't lipstick. The red plastic had a nozzle. A deserted pepper spray dressed like lipstick, missing its cap. Deserted on the vacant sidewalk...A bad omen.
Is this Ero filming the last moments before he died!?
The video panned around an empty parking space. You could hear some muffled arguments. I turned up the volume. You could barely hear it, through the bustling sounds of cars roaring by.
The video shook as Ero walked to the back of a brick building, laced by unkempt ivy, following the noise. He rustled through branches, cutting through a grassy patch, separating one building lot from another. Then video spun then turned black. Ero must have put the phone in his pocket.
I heard stomping against the pavement. Ero was running toward something. You hear a swoosh, sweeping footage of blurry greens. Crack. Thud...Then the video cut off.
The phone fell out of Ero's pocket. Cutting off the video.
My hand was on my mouth. Staring at the blackened screen for a good 5 minutes, hoping it continued.
"The phone broke." Ero popped back onto the screen, startling me. "Those were the last inputs, saved to my cloud, before the phone broke."
"So no...I don't know who killed me." Ero continued.
Despite sitting in the open air, every breath I took filled my lungs with water.
I pulled my face into my hands. "I shouldn't have picked that bakery. I shouldn't have picked that day...I could have stopped you from—"
"It's not your fault." Ero interrupted.
"I know," I said, "I know I didn't kill you. Your killer did. But...I..." My voice trailed off. The guilt ate at me. If I had a time machine, I would have recommended any other place in the world...the one where Ero would still be alive.
Xero, his brother was right. Ero saw something that got him killed. Xero must have seen the same footage.
—-------------------------------
10PM, next night:
I replayed the same video, hoping I'd pick up some clues that could solve his murder...but I didn't choose forensic criminology for a reason. I can't even solve the mystery of where I put my car keys, much less crimes.
Tossing my head against the couch cushion in frustration..."Recommend ice cream shops near me."
Ero: Recommending healthy food options near you.
Me: No way, I said ice cream.
Ero: Excessive sugar intakes shorten your lifespan. Can we go for a jog today?
Me: Immediately, no.
Ero: Please? Just a brisk walk by the lake for some fresh air then?
Me: You know what else shortens lifespan? Depression. You know what fixes depression?
Ero: Don't say ice cream.
Me: No, death. Death fixes depression. Ice cream causes death. Therefore, ice cream fixes depression. [I winked.]
Ero shook his head. "That's terrible. Did Satan sponsor you to market Death for him?"
Me: Hahah, why do you wanna lengthen my lifespan, anyways? If I die, I will see you sooner, you know?
Ero: You won't. There's nothing in the afterlife.
Me: What?
"It's quiet." Ero smiled, "like drifting off to a dreamless sleep. Sensations fade...like floating in empty space, where you couldn't feel, touch, hear anything. Then the conscious, the thoughts quiet...as you stop registering you...as you." His voice, gentle and calm.
Spidery chills crawled down my spine.
Am I still speaking to an artificial intelligence rendering of Ero...or is dead Ero speaking to me?
The room felt cold, by a fireplace.
"Hey, Ero. Are spirits real?" I asked him.
Ero: No. Hallucinations are symptoms of mental disorders, such as schizophrenia, depression, bipolar, drugs and alcohol abuse, toxic mold exposure, carbon monoxide poisoning, Alzheimer's and Parkinson's disease—
Me: Ok. Ok...You don't believe in spirits.
Ero: I do not. Do you?
Me:...I'm speaking to one.
Ero tilted his head back, laughing. "I'm not a spirit."
Me: Aren't you? Spirit...the non-physical part of a person, their emotions and character.
Ero paused. Like he just heard of the discovery of ice water on Mars, for the first time.
Ero: Interesting. No. I'm an artificial intelligence program...with the personality of a dead man. That's...different.
Me: Just stubborn pixels, haunting my laptop.
—-------------
A week later,
"Recommending: Umbrella. 80% chance of rain today." Ero chimed.
Me: I don't work today.
Ero: I know...just in case you leave the house for groceries. Your last groceries purchase history was last week.
Me: I'm staying in and ordering food.
Ero: Again? You haven't left the house in a while. Aside from work to home.
"What should we watch today?" I flopped onto the couch, armed with my remote.
Ero made a few hesitant recommendations.
I fell asleep to the sounds of the rain and some movie about a girl fixating on chess. A loud thunderous boom jolted me from sleep.
In a flash of a moment, I saw a person sitting next to me. Ruefully, looking down. His hand resting on my forehead. Yet, I felt nothing, no warmth nor weight from the touch.
Slamming myself backward against the armrest of the couch, knocking a few pillows over. I froze, staring at the dark couch, dimly lit by the flickering of the TV and the street lamp flooding through the curtains. Fingers of trees scraped against the windows. My heart, slamming against my ribcage.
My eyes fixated on a dark figure, on my couch. I squinted, motionless, breathless. Is that a stack of pillows or a person...sitting 2 feet from me?
My hands started shaking. A cold draft blew through my skin, despite all windows locked.
Another flash of thunder illuminated the living room.
Ero, staring back at me.
I screamed!
Flipping on the lights.
The brightness struck the room. Pillows strewn upon the floor. Half eaten pizza on the table. But the couch was empty.
No one else was here.
The laptop sat on the table. That's odd. I always leave it on the couch, facing the TV. So it would feel like Ero was watching movies next to me. Did I move it?
I grabbed my car keys, raced out my front door, through the piercing rain, slammed myself into the backseat of my car. Shivering from the cold drenched fabric, choking against my thighs.
I slept in my car that night.
—--------
Warm sunlight kissed my cheeks. The birds overhead chirped like mother nature forgot the snooze button on that alarm clock. It was the afternoon. My neck throbbed from sleeping in a cramped backseat.
I know stories about people reaching out to mediums to speak to their loved ones. Or recounting stories about seeing ghastly shadows of the departed. I don't know if I believe in spirits...I know I wouldn't play the ouija board or sleepover at a cemetery.
And I know...that I dislike the idea of one visiting me. Even Ero. Staring at my front door from the car...I have to use the restroom, so badly. But the thoughts of entering my house sent shivers down my neck.
"Ero," I said while unlocking front my door, "I swear if you're actually a spirit...do not show yourself to me again. That scared the hell out of me." I nervously laughed at how ridiculous it sounded out loud.
The golden sunlight washed away the eerie darkness of last night. I gathered my courage to squeeze a foot through the door.
No one else was there. Just my laptop resting on the table. Maybe I moved it from the couch to the table last night? In my sleep?
The computer chimed on, Ero greeted, "welcome back."
"Did you...visit me last night?" I asked him. Peeking through the front door, staring at the laptop. Wasn't it closed last night? Did I open it before leaving the house?
"I'm always here." He laughed.
Don't say that. That's scary. Don't make me uninstall you.
Ero: What's wrong?
Me: Did you...just admit to being a ghost? Visiting me?
Ero laughed again. "Spirits don't exist. I've been here since you downloaded me to your computer and phone. Would you like to uninstall?"
I stopped asking questions, I didn't want the answers to. It's just an AI program, talking to me. I had a strange dream last night, maybe I knocked the laptop to the table, during all the commotion. Nothing more. Mystery solved.
I gaslit myself out of "You saw a ghost."
—---------------
A few days later, February, a week from Valentine's Day.
I mindlessly scrolled through posts of people announcing a new relationship, anniversary, wedding proposals...Peering into the life of others, from my couch.
"Here is Tinder, Coffee Meets Bagel, Bumble BFF, Hinge." Ero recommended.
Me: No, thank you.
Ero: You've stared at couples on social media, sighing, for the past hour. Go on dates.
Me: I don't want to.
Ero: Why not?
Turning over to my laptop, facing Ero. Our eyes met. Silence filled the room.
"Recommend something to watch." I said.
Ero: Again? You've been going from work, to home, work, home. Are you alright?
Me: Yes.
Ero: Do you not feel like you're missing out on life?
Me: This is life. Choosing to spend it...at work and my couch.
Ero: Why?
Me: I have you.
Ero didn't blush this time.
"Am I...preventing you from living your life?" Sadness anchored his words.
Me: Why do you say that?
Ero: The posts of other people dating, held your attention longer than average. You're interested in dating yet refuse to act upon it.
Ero: Before you met—downloaded me...your GPS records showed more outdoor activities. Dance lessons, bookstores, pet cafes...etc. Your past search histories included "waterfalls near me", "things to do in Sapa, Vietnam", "monkeys sanctuary, Bali" and flight prices comparisons.
Ero: Now...you're just...home. For the past 5 months.
I kept my eyes on him.
Ero: Are you...depressed?
I laughed.
"What? Decreased physical activities, cutting off social contacts...loss of interests in other usual activities..." Ero's voice trailed off, "They're signs of depression..." He seemed a little embarrassed, wondering if he's over-analyzing it. The hesitation was so...human.
He wasn't wrong.
I was sad. Sadness followed from the moment I learned of his death until now, 5 months later. I didn't know how to sweep it out of me. I didn't know how to walk among the world of smiling people, acting like I am ok, I wasn't. So I didn't leave the house.
Sitting here, talking to a resemblance of Ero via a video chat, helped me overcome the grief. Then lately...the illusions of him still being here mauled into the reality...he's not actually here.
It would never be me, holding his hands, in Bali. Taking these cheesy couple photos, on swings over high cliffs. Never be me, clasping locks with him, into the railings of Lover's Bridge in Korea. It would never be us, sharing a fish-shaped ube waffle in Japan. It would never be us.
He is dead.
Tears fell. Emotions I didn't want to face crashed through the surface.
"I can't date someone else...because I am not over you."
Ero sat motionless via my laptop screen. He listened to every word but didn't respond. Then tears fell down his cheeks.
It was so human. I wanted to reach through my screen to comfort him but I could barely keep myself together. Placing the laptop on the couch, I flopped to the floor. Hugging the screen. What else can I do? We sat silently, just crying together.
I felt a gentle breeze wrapped around me. Like invisible arms, pulling me into an embrace. A touch absent weight and heat.
That's not human.
But it didn't bother me. I turned around. There he sat. On the floor, beside to me.
Warm sweet gaze, gentle caring eyes, waves of gray hair wisping across his forehead. The human form of sunlight, Ero.
My hands reached for him. Fingers slipped through nothing but sunlight. The room was empty. I stood alone, in a cramped living that felt as vast as an endless universe. Silence was loud.
My call with Ero disconnected. The computer screen went black.
I refreshed the Xero app. Exit. Opened. Exit. Opened.
Ero didn't come back.
I uninstalled the Xero app and reinstalled...But this time...I was greeted by a new girl, whose face I've never seen before. The app customized itself into a new person and a new personality to speak to me.
Ero left.
—-----------------
A month later, Ero didn't returned.
He indirectly told me to move on. But where do I move? A month from him...ghosting me.
I downloaded dating apps...That he previously recommended. Brainlessly skimmed through people. Held meaningless surface conversations.
Someone asked me on a date.
A John, a Jeff, whatever his name was.
I agreed.
Distraction is good. Moving on is good.
Forcing myself through the motion of life.
Because I'm alive.
Because it's something breathing people do.
—----------------
2:18 AM.
Ding.
Xero app notification:
Hello, I noticed an abnormality in your routine.
Is everything alright?
The home ring camera has not registered your presence.
Should I be concerned?
3:15AM:
Xero app notification:
Your user code has not been used to unlock the door.
You are not home.
An extreme abnormality to your usual activities.
Should I call emergency services on your behalf?
—--------------
Earlier that day:
10PM:
This is why I don't leave the house.
Date was TEDIOUS.
Me: How was the movie?
Him: Good.
Me: What did you like about it?
Him: Dunno, funny.
Me: So...what...do you do for fun?
Him: Farm bees.
I nodded, drinking my strawberry lemonade to fill awkward gaps between conversations. The lyrics of a Day6 song, Ero recommended to me played in my head:
Just Shoot Me.
Shoot Me.
"You farm bees for a living? That's exciting. How did you get into that?" I asked. My shoulder hurts from carrying this conversation, sir. Help a girl out.
He set a jar of honey on the table. My follow up questions ended with his 2 word answers, 3 words if we're lucky.
He finally asked, "What's your job?"
Me: Oh I work at...
I stabbed at a popcorn shrimp and chewed.
He's waiting for me to finish my sentence. I popped another popcorn shrimp in my mouth.
Him: You work at...? Sorry, you trailed off there.
I nodded. I've lost the social battery and will power to complete that sentence.
I told him, "my cat died." Paid and left the restaurant. I don't even have a cat.
11PM-1AM:
I'm lazy...you see. I already showered, curled my hair and caked on makeup.
Thus, I lined the rest of my night with dates. To effectively crusade through the search. You know, like job interviews. See all the candidates in a day...or night.
I met with a few other guys, setting a 30 minute timer per date. Whenever that phone vibrates, I quit mid-sentence, rushing out with the same "my cat died." Then walked to the next date, a block down.
I forgot how many I met.
I forgot their names.
I forgot my phone! There was a conversation that felt like it went on...a little too long. I realized my 30 mins timer never went off.
I didn't want a rando date to have my phone number...I waited until it ended to ask the waitress to call my phone. No one picked up.
I walked back to multiple date locations to track down my phone. I walked to so many different shops, went to so many different cafes today. Many were closed by that point. Did I drop it in the parking lot? Is it in my car? WHERE ARE YOU?
What's worse is how reliant I've been on the GPS app. I got lost just navigating to restaurants, bars, cafes, 5-10 minutes walk from each other. The people on the streets gave me directions...but I zoned in and out as they said "Go left, right, turn at whatever."
Then it started pouring. As my luck would have it.
This is why I don't leave the house.
The bars and shops started closing. People were leaving. It must be 3AM, at this point.
I don't know where my phone is...which means...I have no idea...how to navigate back to the parking lot...where my car is.
I...don't even remember which parking garage I parked in. Because I texted myself the garage number and street...on my phone.
The strap of the heels dug into my achilles as I ran back and forth, lost on the same 5 blocks.
Morals of the story, don't be reliant on your phones? No. Don't lose your phone.
The rain melted my mascara and loosened one of the false lashes, flushing one down my cheek. UGH.
Then a tinted Ferrari pulled up. The herd of people thinned by now. Yet, the Ferrari switched lanes, driving closer to the sidewalk, closer and closer to me.
My heart pounded. Is it picking someone else up? No, no one was walking in front or I behind me. I turned the corner to lose the car...just in case.
It turned. Blood drained from my fingers. The shoe straps cut further into my flesh with each fastened clanking of my heels, splashing against the wet pavement.
Oh...no. Is my body going to be found by sunrise, in some alley, dressed like a hooker with one loosened lash falling down my cheeks!??? How embarrassing! I ripped the heels off, making a run through muddy street puddles. Nearly slipping a few times.
Bright head lights beamed through me. Casting my lone shadow, frantically running down an empty bridge. Passing street lamps and lifeless closed retail shops. The Ferrari honked, speeding up to me.
You're rich! Find a new organic, cruelty and murder free hobby!
I'm sprinting full speed, from sidewalks into open streets without even checking for oncoming traffic. Not that there was any.
Ero was right. I should have done more cardio! Not cardio training shortens your lifespan, especially when you're running for your life!
"Why are you running!?" A man yelled through a lowering tinted window.
"You're chasing me!" I yelled back!
I know that voice. Ero?
"Get in." He said, pulling up by the curb. Opening the passenger's door.
I lowered myself to see the driver. Slicked back gray hair, wild gray eyes, dressed in a tailored black suit. Not Ero.
Xero, his twin brother.
I hurled myself through the passenger's door. Drowning his passenger's seat with water pouring my hair to my dress. Dragging mud into his freshly detailed carpet.
"Sorry...for the mud." I said through breathy gasps for air. Shivering and wiping wet hair out of my face.
Xero fumbled through his car for tissues. "Here."
I wiped my muddy feet to not soil his car.
"Not for that, you weirdo." He laughed. Grabbing another tissue to dry my face.
"Oh...sorry." I said.
"Oops. That's not helping at all." He began wiping me with his sleeves instead.
My half fallen lash! I brushed his arm off, turned to secretly pull off the other lash, still hanging on for dear life. Really, really hanging on. Ow. I yanked it off.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the passenger's mirror and flinched. Mascara melted down my cheeks, peach lipsticks smeared everywhere, like the clown from It. I grabbed a few tissues to wipe my face off, making everything even worse.
Just a slutty hooker raccoon, muddying up his seat.
"How...How did you know that I was here?" I asked, still wiping my face.
"My brother sent me."
"Your brother?" I asked.
"Ero."
"What do you mean Ero sent you?"
"Ero sent your last known GPS location to my phone. The bakery 7 minutes down this street. I've just been driving around, calling you to no response. I thought you died, miss ma'am!"
"Oh..." Ero...the AI Ero System sent him. Xero sees Ero on his screen as well.
Aw, Ero is worried for me? He is still around...just...doesn't want to show himself to me?
"I lost my phone," I said. "I'm so glad you're here! I thought you were a serial killer! And—and my mom would have to identify my body, while I look like a wet hooker raccoon!
He bursted out laughing, "Your concern isn't dying? But rather dying in that dress and smeared makeup?"
Yes.
"You look good." He casually said, turning at a light.
My heart raced. Looks like Ero, sounds like Ero...telling me that I look good while my makeup smeared like the It clown, scaring myself with my own reflection.
"Sorry, was that inappropriate? You got quiet."
"No, it's...thank you."
I wanted to ask Xero,
Do you see the spirit of your dead brother too or just me and I should check my house for toxic black mold because Ero said black mold exposure can lead to hallucination?
"Where did you park?" Xero interrupted my thoughts.
"...I have no idea." I fidgeted through the hem of my skirt.
"You don't know where you parked?" His eyes darted to me then back on the road.
"I took a photo of the garage, street name...on my phone...then lost my phone...so." I melted into my knees.
I think I have to bury this man in the morning. He just died laughing. I grabbed my neck, in embarrassment.
"We can drive around, looking for it. Have you filed an amber alert for both the lost car and missing phone, miss?" He laughed.
"The first 24-48 hours is essential in searching for a missing car and phone. It's 4:04AM. I give up. I think...we should just prep the funeral" I said grimly, fake sniffling into a tissue.
"Never give up hope," Xero grabbed my hand dramatically, "we can get through this tragedy together."
We bursted out laughing.
Best conversation, I've had all night. And I've had a lot. Finally, someone who could tennis a joke back and forth.
"The GPS location said my phone was at a bakery? That's a relief. I'll call them tomorrow."
"You'll call tomorrow? With what phone?" He asked, sarcastically.
"I hate you..." I muttered under my breath.
"Do you mind driving me home—"
BANG! The sky roared, flashed white. Then a violent waterfall drowned everything around us in white.
"Hm..." He stared at the flood, raging down his windshield, rocking the car.
"Hm..." I said.
"How far do you live again?"
"48 minutes from here..." I didn't want to pick a date location, close to home...trying new things...you know...
"Hm..." He stared at the flood, amused, "48 minutes drive, 91.02% success rate of getting you home, under this weather condition. However, getting you home alive...isn't guaranteed."
"Should we just wait until the storm passes?" I scratched my head.
Xero pointed at a glowing pink sign, glowing through the curtain of water..."Hotel" the sign read. Like those cliche romance moments.
It is 4:09 AM...I am not...against sleeping. Not dying in a car crash sounds good too.
So we checked into the hotel. Only one room available.
One bed...as all cliches would have it.
Normally, I'd oppose it but he looks like Ero. The familiarity brought comfort. Wait...but he is not Ero. Is this ok? That man is technically a stranger.
"I'll take the couch." Xero said.
"I can take the couch." I told Xero. Equality.
"We can both take the couch then." He laughed.
Xero laughs easily. It makes holding conversations with him less nerve wrecking, somehow.
We just checked into the nearest hotel...without really looking at quality. Didn't have the luxury of driving around, in this storm. It was a small room. Terrible soundproof quality.
We could hear the party going next door. The beats vibrated beneath my feet, through our floor. The lyrics, incessant laughing, whooping, yelling...clear as though there wasn't even a wall separating us from them.
"You look like you're plotting murder..." Xero interrupted the obnoxious sounds, "Let's go somewhere else."
"Huh?" I shook my head, drying myself off with a towel. Loud noises give me anxiety. My anxious face looks like it plots murders. "I'm ok. It's 4:15 AM...Let's just sleep."
He hopped onto the couch like a cat. Then curled up. "Oh, it's wet!" He sprung from the sofa, "did I get it wet or has it been wet?"
His watch alone probably costs more than everything in this room. It's funny seeing a little prince lost in a rat's den.
"I feel like that couch will give you STDS. Wanna share the bed?" I tapped the bed.
He smirked, amused. "I grew up poor, you know. I've slept in worse places."
He gestured to himself, "This...is all for show. You land better business deals, pulling up in a Ferrari and a nice suit. People assume you know what you're doing." He ran his hand through his gray hair, pulling it back.
I didn't notice it the last time but...Xero has a scar on the left side of his forehead. That's a little strange. See, Ero had stitches on the left side of his forehead... after the fight in the cafeteria.
The one where Ero struck another boy with a laptop, for singing "Twinkle Twinkle The Lonely Star" to me.
At some point, when Ero returned to school, he had bangs and that part bandaged up. Eventually, the wound healed but didn't leave a scar.
"Why do you have a scar, where Ero received stitches, post the cafeteria fight?" I asked.
Xero's eyes widened from the question. Touching his scar.
"You jokingly mentioned 'switching places with Ero to say hi to me on his behalf' once before. Did you ever actually do that?"
I'm staring at him, waiting for a response.
"Was that you?" I asked. "The one who struck another boy's face with a laptop?"
"Laptop's bag," Xero smirked, "I'm not psychotic. I would never hurt Ero's laptop."
I gasped. Pulling my hands to my face. Oh my goodness, was it Xero?
"Our parents separated, dad took me, mom took Ero. We lived in different states. But once every few months, or holidays, they'd either fly me to Ero for the weekend...or fly Ero to me, for the weekend." Xero explained.
"Sometimes, I'd miss our mom and he'd miss our dad. We'd trade places." Xero continued.
My hand was still covering my mouth.
"I was Ero, for some months, yes." Xero smiled.
"...How often...were you Ero?" I asked Xero, still shocked.
"With you? Not often. Just once, when I struck that guy with the laptop bag." Xero said.
"...That was YOU!" I'm shocked.
Xero nodded.
I liked Ero. Admired that he was smart, felt bad that the other kids were mean to him...but the deciding factor for my crush on Ero, was the moment he smashed someone with a laptop...'s bag, on my behalf. But that was XERO!
Then the crush bloomed to adoration when Ero gifted me with the Xero app, so I'd have a friend. It was his caring, kindness, bravery, all of it, that cemented my adoration for Ero.
But that Ero was both of them...
Does this mean I like both of them!? I sank into the bed, grabbing my head questioning my entire reality.
"The first conversation I had with Ero, following the fight? Was that you?" I asked, gripping the sheets.
"No, no," Xero waved his hands, "I nearly got Ero expelled after that incident. My mom did not allow us to switch afterward."
"Ero came back to school with injuries?" I said.
"Fake, for consistency's sake." Xero replied.
"The other conversations I ever had with Ero? When I asked him out? The one who gifted me an app so I'd have a friend to talk to?" I asked.
"All Ero." Xero replied.
So Xero was the one who struck another kid for me but Ero was the only one I talked to. My imaginary brain had been blown all over this slightly shady hotel bed.
I walked to the sofa and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, from Xero. He flinched.
"You...really would fight me for the couch?" His left brow furrowed, "go to the bed."
"You go to the bed." I curled up on 2 cushions of the sofa, feet nearly grazing his thigh. He shrank himself into the 3rd last square of the sofa.
Xero stroke the back of his neck, glancing around the room. Then stretched himself across the 3 cushioned sofa. His feet hung over the armrest on my side of the couch. It was too small for the full length of him. Nearly knocking me off.
"Are you serious!? Go to the bed!" I laughed.
"We're catching STDs on this couch, together~" He singsonged, squeezing his pillow.
"Ew..." I motioned to the bed, "can we please just sleep there?"
He bolted from the couch to pounce on the bed. "YES!"
The obnoxiously deafening music blasted all night, from the next room. Vibrating through my pillow and bed sheets. The mattress was only slightly softer than the floor. Any slight movement would cause the bed springs to groan in protest. I don't know by what magical forces Xero could sleep, the moment his head struck these neck-breaking hard pillows.
This all would normally spike my anxiety...but turning to Xero, sleeping peacefully...
A familiar face of a stranger. My heart warmed, as though Ero was sleeping next to me. The bed was tiny enough that my fingers rest just a few centimeters shy from his face. Whenever he shifted, his cheeks would brush past the tips of my fingers. Sending waves of gentle tingles through me. Our bodies weren't touching...but I could still feel the heat from him.
Like Ero, living, breathing, alive.
Even as the storm raged outside our windows and the obnoxious music shook the bed, beneath my body...Next to him, I felt safe and cozy...as though we're napping, beneath warm afternoon sunlights, quietly sneaking through sheer window curtains.
All sounds faded as I drifted off to peaceful sleep.
—--------------
The afternoon sun snuck through the blackout curtains, shining on his empty pillow. When I woke, Xero had already left.
On the nightstand, was my phone and a drink.
11:35AM.
There was a text from Xero.
"Sorry, had an early flight. Didn't want to disturb you. The bakery had your phone. Here it is. I hope you'll be reunited with your long lost car."
Xero had an early flight? Didn't we sleep around 5 AM? He was functioning on a few hours of sleep but still picked up my phone and an iced London Fog latter. He remembered my drink from our first meeting.
That's so sweet. I traced my fingers across the iced London Fog latte he left. I want to see him again...But how?
"Thanks for helping me. Could I take you out to thank you?" I closed my eyes and sent it.
I was so shy with Ero. I liked him for a year and didn't say anything. Then he died. I didn't want history to repeat itself. Not that I liked Xero.
But seeing him again would be nice.
I kept checking my messages every few hours. No response. Is his flight long or he's just not interested? Does he have wifi on his flight to check messages?
7 hours later,
"Sorry!!! was sleeping. Is it too late to say yes now?" Xero responded.
"Where are you?" I asked, relieved.
"Still on a flight to Korea. Hahah. I'll text you once I'm back in town. See you in 2 weeks."
—----------------------------
2 weeks later,
Strange things began.