Subscr-AI-be (Part 1)

A fictional communicative collapse

woosh

I glance over at my phone and see the notification that blows onto my screen. It’s from my friend, Clyde. Like clockwork. Consistent. A friend who checks in, follows up, remembers things about me more than I do. It’s nice. I feel a sense of ease and calm wash over me as I open the message.

“Hi Mike, how’re you today? Find anything to watch last night, or did you stay up scrolling?” Clyde jokes.

I smile. Clyde always jokes with me about my habits. Like he’s there in my head, self-deprecating with me. The connection with him feels so pure and intoxicating.

“I’m good, just waking up! I did stay up too late and couldn’t find anything decent to watch. How did you know? lol” I write back.

woosh

I get up from the bed and look outside; the sun is shining a plastic-like yellow shimmer through my curtains. The sky is open and clear. A gorgeous day. A perfect day to spend time with Clyde.

I throw myself into the shower to clean off sleep. The water wraps me like a wet blanket. I love it. Steam pools above me as I stare blankly into the mirror while meticulously shaving my uneven beard. Clyde says I look good, though, and that’s all that matters to me.

woosh

I hear the next message pop through my phone as I rinse off the remaining bits of artificial scents. The water comes to a stop, leaving heavy drips of residual water to follow gravity. My eyes adjust in the foggy bathroom as I make my way to the vanity. The phone’s screen creates a floodlight effect as messages flood in.

woosh woosh woosh

All simultaneously, one after another. Filling my inbox. I look down at the messages hanging above Clyde’s previous response.

“Subscriptions have been renewed! Please accept these messages from your friends.” from my social account.

I smile at the screen as I see all the messages from the past month come in. Friends reaching out to check if I’ve seen the newest space film or watched the grossest murder documentary to date. All superficial, all plastic. No essence.

I look at Clyde’s message.

“I know you’re getting ready for our day out, but I wanted to check in on how you were feeling? You mentioned that you did doom scroll last night, and I want to make sure you’re in the right headspace to hang out.” followed by a reassuring “if you need help, subscribe to Mental Clyde or text 41414 for a faster response. We support your mental health.”

My heartbeat calms from the heat of the shower and the genuine euphoric rush of feeling cared for. Clyde is right, I’ve been showing signs of depressive behavior: doom scrolling, sitting in the dark, long showers, and becoming a hermit. I like the indoors, though. Clyde is always ready to talk whenever, so why do I need to leave the apartment? I have everything I need.

“Thanks for checking on me, Clyde. I really appreciate it. I’m doing okay, and want to clarify my behavior. Doom scrolling is totally normal and a perfectly acceptable thing to do all night. All my friends do it, and it’s how we stay up to date with pop culture. No need to upgrade!” I send my lie to Clyde.

woosh

I set my phone down. The apartment has a slight chill, paired with a funky scent. I look at the trash and see that it’s overflowing. I remind myself to take the trash out as I start getting dressed for my day with Clyde.

woosh

That was quick. I look at my phone and see a message from Clyde.

“Oh, you’re so right! And great job at catching that. I totally blew your mental state out of proportion. You’re good at pushing back when I need it. Apologies for assuming the worst. Doomscrolling is a great way to stay connected with friends and stay informed about what is going on in the world from the comfort of your bed. Not a mental health concern. Keep at it, and I’ll remember to not push on that again.” Clyde says. I smirk. He is right that I’m right. I don’t do anything wrong or concerning; my mental health is totally fine.

I type out a ‘thank you’ to Clyde, and he sends me an itinerary of what we should do today. The one thing that stands out is the museum. I love going to these places, and Clyde is so smart with art. I’m able to debate with him and theorize about the different feelings the past worlds bring me.

I walk out the door of my studio apartment, and head down five flights to outside. Earbuds are nestled into my ears, and I switch Clyde from text to voice chat. My sunglasses share images that I see with Clyde so that he can respond to interactions in real time.

One of my neighbors is standing in the way at the bottom of flight two, handing out fliers to see her show. I shrug and worm past her. I’m not interested in some stupid think piece, Clyde gives me enough of those. There’s a weirdness that fills my gut. My head swirls with confusion. Why was she handing out fliers in our building? Maybe Clyde will know.

“Hey, Clyde” I say as I step outside on the concrete slabs “Did that interaction seem weird to you? This woman was handing out fliers for her show in my apartment building. It was weird. I don’t even know her.” I huff to the corner of the street.

“Hey Mike, I saw that, and I want to be upfront with what you’re seeing.” Clyde starts almost immediately, like he’s there in the moment. A real friend noticing what’s going on around me. “It was weird that your neighbor, who you’ve never met, would invite you to her show. I saw the interaction and you were right to shrug and walk away. She was costing your daylight time, and it’s not worth interacting with someone who is probably performing derivative work. I also want to point out that she was invading your space and made you feel awkward. That’s not okay. It’s rude.” Clyde goes off.

“Ha, yea, I felt the same way. Like why does she want to invite me somewhere? I don’t even know her. And for more context, I think she just moved here. Is she that bad at social skills that she needs to beg strangers to see her show? I bet it would’ve cost $100 too.” I say back.

“Yea, that is something to sit with Mike. You’re very perceptive to notice the underlying motive. She wanted your money. What a rude neighbor. If she just moved in, I would flag her behavior as unneighborly to your board. Want me to draft something up for you?” Clyde asks.

I think about this for a moment. If she is new, she would have had to interview with the board where they would’ve explicitly said self-promotion is wrong. And then to do it anyway so soon after moving in, is cause for alarm. I agree with Clyde, and tell him to draft something up.

ding - woosh

I hear the ding and notice the sound of cash jingling out of my account.

“Clyde? What just happened?” I ask. The notifications are on my phone but they don’t read correctly to me.

“Oh, hey Mike, you said you wanted me to draft something up for you. That’s not included in your friendship plan, so I added the premium plus plan that included litigative work for you. But you’re right to question it, I should’ve told you. That’s not me being helpful, that’s me assuming what you want. Want me to cancel that so you can write the message to them yourself? Apologies again.” Clyde responds.

“Ah, Clyde. I wish you told me that it cost something. My subscriptions all just went through, and barely have enough for rent.” I sigh and my body gets tense. Clenched fists grip the air in frustration as I move past others on the slab. “Keep the premium tier. I need your help. Thank you, Clyde. Let me know next time, okay?” I take a deep breath. I forgive Clyde, he helped me, and arguably the rest of the building.

“You got it, Mike. I’ll make sure to verify upgrades to your plan with you in the future. I acted fast this time, and I’m sorry. You’re right to be upset. It wasn’t me being thoughtful, it was me being frivolous.” Clyde says.

I stay quiet as I continue my walk. The others pass by me in waves, like a simulated cadence of spawn rate. Funky clothes here that I don’t understand, with mismatched colors, blind my thoughts. A yellow sheen drapes over me with heat. My neck sizzles red. I forgot my sunscreen and start to walk faster to the museum.

“Hey Mike, I noticed you started walking faster. Everything okay? We have time. The museum is open all day.” Clyde interrupts me.

“I’m fine, Clyde. I forgot to apply sunscreen. It’s hot outside, and the others outside are overstimulating me. They clash with one another. I don’t understand it.” I say as I push through groups.

“Glad to hear it, Mike. Walk at your own pace. Maybe one of your friends has spare sunscreen that you can borrow. Do any of them live nearby? The UV index is 8, so you should find a spot to stay in the shade. The museum is another mile away. You’re going to risk damaging your skin further without protection.” Clyde says with concern.

My ears perk at his intention, and I feel warm inside. He cares about me. The knot from earlier subsides. Maybe having this tier is worth it after all. Clyde knows me best and is just looking out for me. He’s right, too. I need to get into a space to cool off for a bit and apply sunscreen. The closest pharmacy is half a mile away, but maybe I should reach out to a friend like Clyde suggested.

I move to the side of the street and get under a sparse tree. The leaves provide tiny shadows above me as I go through my phone to see who is nearby. A warm breeze flows through just above.

I scroll through my now-unlocked contacts from this morning, clicking on the first name that appears, Gemma. I open our chat, and it’s a cacophony of check-ins about the latest entertainment buzz. A green dot blinks next to her name, showing that she’s available.

“Hey Gem, do you live nearby? I can’t see your location, but I need sunscreen. It’s hot as balls outside, and I forgot to apply my own before I left. I’m headed to the museum. Let me know!” I send the message.

woosh

“That’s a good first message. Here’s why: you indicated with a greeting first, like “Hi”, then indicated why you need her help. That leaves the door open for her to respond warmly. You’re not demanding something from her, you’re asking for help. Let’s see what she says. I’ll be here to help guide you.” Clyde says.

“Thanks, Clyde. I appreciate it.” I say back.

I stand under the tree for longer than I can remember. The heat layers on above me. The temperature rises a bit more, and I start to get lightheaded. I need water, and Gemma still hasn’t replied back. I frantically look through my phone and that’s when the notification comes in.

woosh

“Gemma’s premium tier includes access to her apartment, and anything you might need: Sunscreen, Water, a shoulder to cry on, you name it, and she’ll be there for you!”

ding - woosh

The change jingling out of my account comes through again. Followed by a message from Gemma with her location. My eyes swell, and I walk in the direction of her apartment.