Follome, page 11
She spins around the figure to get a good look. Then, face to face: cloudy eyes, a caved in skull, dried blood caked onto the surface of a half-clothed corpse. A man stares out, just past Lover’s line of sight, his jaw agape and sagging to the left, a sick and purple tongue flung over chapped lips.
“What the hell...”
A cardboard sign in his lap reads: “See? You really are alone.”
The man’s voice is being projected by a Follower in the back of the room, ringing out with such confident hope: “I can’t believe I found you! I can’t believe it!” Then there’s the sound of crying. Desperate crying.
[BOO-HOO]
Lover blinks, and she’s surrounded by a circle of Followers. They all chuckle mechanically, sway back and forth as Lover’s head spins. She scans every one of them despondently, looks into every camera lens, every self-perpetuating broadcast. How could she let this happen? How could she fall right into their publicity trap.
Aeo stands directly behind Lover, silent.
“How the fuck could you do this?” She turns and asks. Aeo’s cameras don’t move; they stay humiliatingly still. “Did you know about this?”
Not a peep. While the rest of the audience of robots laughs and laughs it up, Aeo stands still. The other Followers can’t stop though.
[WE GOT YOU GOOD]
[SMILE FOR THE CAMERA]
[>=D]
[<3 <3 <3 <3 <3]
Lover feels hot, boiling rage rise from her toes and up through her bones. The Followers begin closing in on her, tripping over one another to get the best view of her daunted face, her wide and moist eyes. Doesn’t she look amazing? So impassioned? So on-the-verge? Her breaking point. A violent egg with a delicate crack down the middle. And the Followers are tapping on it gently.
[THE LAST HUMAN]
[THINKING SO FAST]
[TUNE IN WITH US]
[AND LET’S HAVE A BLAST]
Don’t give in, Lover. It’s what they want. You’re better than this. You’ve gotten this far, survived. You’re so damn close. Don’t.
[<3]
[;D]
[HEARTS ALL AROUND]
The egg cracks.
It happens in a flash. Lover throws everything she has at them. Every second of every day since the Blackout being unleashed on the synthetic bastards. Though, not so synthetic as Lover rips them apart.
Gunshots tear them apart, swings of the machete de-limb, hands to velvety skull smashing on brick and ground. They bleed. It’s vibrant. The air fills with the metallic scent of human blood. But it pours out from charcoal gray stumps, spills out of screamless and formless mouths, trickles out the edges of camera lenses. Time itself becomes a spectator as Lover destroys with unbridled and unrestrained ferocity. The Followers barely have time to retort.
[GO AHEAD AND]-
[TRY YOUR WOR]-
[>=O]-
[GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WA]-
And she does. By the time she’s finished, only Aeo remains, standing in the corner breathless, not from shock, but from inhumanity. Though surely, Aeo fully comprehends the situation. The floor of the old textile mill is slick with blood and gore, crunching under Aeo’s feet as the lenses rotate. Looking up down, left right, zooming in and out, closeups and panoramas, Aeo gets the full picture and broadcasts it out to the world. Lover is gasping for breath, her muscles strained and ripped, her knuckles and knees bruised, bile churning in her stomach.
The silence of a massacre’s aftermath.
6
[I AM SORRY]
Aeo’s words are poison.
“How could you have let that happen?” Lover asks, head in her hands, sitting in a pool of blood. Aeo has stopped filming, and instead, has taken a knee by Lover. Camera in the face. She contemplates destroying her Follower here and now, letting it rot here with its friends.
[IT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN]
She looks up at her Follower, who in a surprisingly real display of emotion, appears to double back. If Aeo had a mouth, it would have expressed a frown of regret. The perceived expression is surprisingly disarming.
[BUT I AM SORRY]
Lover ignores the apology. She begins stripping down to her underwear; her clothes are sticky with carnage. She looks at Aeo.
“Turn around.”
Again, an uncharacteristic response, Aeo obeys, turns around and walks to a corner and faces it. As Lover steps out of her pants, she eyes the space for a bathroom, or a source of running water. She notices a door at the back end of the level and begins making her way toward it. Aeo remains facing the opposite direction. This is the longest Lover has gone without Aeo filming since she stole them from the poor, boring bastard she killed. She thinks of the surprising break in Follower etiquette briefly before letting her anger move her feet toward the bathroom. At the threshold, she takes another look back at Aeo in the corner like a punished child, walks into the dimly lit bathroom and shuts the door.
Lover is alone. For the first time in years, she is completely alone. She thinks about turning on the light, but knows the bulb is probably long burned out; she lets the darkness sink into her body, relishes the un-filmed solitude. Walking short and fragile steps, arms outstretched, feeling the room, Lover finds the sink and begins running cold water, splashing it on her blood-soaked skin, scrubbing with moldy soap to get the Follower stink off of her. She washes up for what feels like hours; she can feel the sun as it sets, pulling the sky down with it, laughing at her at the closing of another cycle of light.
[6LoverKiller9 WE SHOULD LEAVE BEFORE IT GETS DARK]
The bathroom door squeaks open a crack. The orange and blue dusk spills in like paint. Lover is soaked as she makes eye contact with herself in the dirty, cracked mirror now illuminated by the end of day. Her shaved head, her bruises, her scars. Humanity’s resilience, stubbornness, hopelessness.
“I don’t know what I expected from you, Aeo.” Lover speaks to the crack. “I thought that maybe, just maybe, you were on my side.”
[I AM ON MY SIDE]
It’s a frank response. Lover chuckles; how useless any attempt at reasoning conversation is with the robot. It has an objective. It didn’t chose it. It just follows.
[OTHERS WILL BE HERE SOON]
With silent acknowledgment, Lover uses her tank top to dry her face. She takes a deep breath in, exhales the heat of the Followers’ sabotage away. But she doesn’t let go of the anger. She won’t give Aeo anything.
Lover blasts out of the bathroom door. She grabs her weapons, reattaches them to her belt as she hoists her pants back onto her hips. The breeze outside carries with it the rumble of approaching Followers, eager to witness the aftermath. Without looking at Aeo, Lover jumps over the velvet bodies and bolts down the stairway. At the entrance of the mill, now darkly illuminated by the rising evening, Lover hops on her electric bike and starts it. Knowing Aeo will follow her as they always do, Lover rides into the night, feels the mass of cameras as it tugs at her backside with every traveled inch.
7
No more experiments. No more fighting. No more trying. Keep on recording – you won’t find anything here. Because there will never be anything more to see.
Lover has been sitting in the corner, staring into Aeo’s cameras, for nearly a week. Tired, hungry, poised over a large bucket so even her bowel movements would not force her to move. She eats one can of food per day in less than a minute. Lover will waste away here. But she’ll make it slow, undramatic, so Aeo and the rest of their hyped up friends will have even less to record and share with the nobody of the world. Lover didn’t even contemplate suicide; it would have been too cinematic. No, this climax will be slow.
She reflects on how solid of a run she had during this nightmare. A lesser person would have crumbled into a million little pieces, succumbed instantly. Well, Lover realizes that they did. They all did. They all crumbled before transforming.
After the set-up, when Lover arrived back at her sanctuary, Aeo told her the outburst reminded them of the user amInothing? pre-Blackout. The violence of it, the unrestrained anger. Aeo wouldn’t stop talking about the event, the girl, the user’s confrontation with TheWhiteBear. To get Aeo to shut up, Lover agreed to watch the footage, which she had to admit, she had never laid eyes on before. Maybe that’s what made Lover’s transformation slower. But who gives a shit anymore?
The similarities were more than striking. Lashing out at standing targets, the laughter of audiences as limb was torn from limb. Lover’s face tingled, felt one with it, as she watched amInothing?’s unhinged expression as she destroyed the club that had exploited her brother.
[THIS IS SO MUCH LIKE YOU]
Aeo was commentating the entire time as Lover’s eyes were glued to the screen, watching as the night viciously unfolded. Then, the cinematic finish.
[WAIT FOR IT]
The girl held her naked brother in her arms and wept.
[THIS IS GOOD]
And not with a bang, but with a sigh, the girl transformed into a Follower in a grotesque and painful way. As Lover watched, she felt the infection spreading, tickling, tearing through her blood. But she couldn’t look away. When amInothing? completed her transition, a deep silence and static emanated from the video. Lover felt a tear leaking from the corner of her eye before it was absorbed by the climbing Follower skin that had progressed up her to her cheekbone as she viewed the scene.
Quickly shaking it off once she realized what was happening, Lover threw her phone across the room and hasn’t touched it since. She’s taking her cue from the deceptive corpse in Newark and remaining perfectly still. She already feels like a corpse. It’s preferable to the alternative; she refuses to go the way amInothing? did. No way will it end like that.
And so here, she sits. She eats and shits and sleeps and sits. The banging from the walls of the fortified warehouse have become a sort of white noise to her. Lover chooses to find it soothing, meditative, focusing.
[YOU SHOULD MOVE]
She will not.
[YOU SHOULD STAND]
She will not.
[YOU SHOULD DANCE FOR US]
She will not.
[FOR ME? ;)]
Fuck you.
But then, from the back of the warehouse, the chime of a bell. It’s Lover’s phone, which Aeo had passive aggressively plugged in to the wall to charge during Lover’s resolved outburst of stillness. Not the ding from a direct text message, but the deep clang from a direct video message.
[WHO COULD THAT BE]
Lover breaks her week-long silence. “You piece of shit, you know who it is.”
[YES BUT THIS IS NOT LIKE BEFORE]
She stares directly into the Follower’s face.
“I’m not moving for you. You’re a liar. You’re all liars.”
[THIS IS NOT LIKE BEFORE THIS IS NOT LIKE BEFORE]
Aeo begins waving her arms frantically in the air. Jumping, spinning, shivering like a switch was flipped, like an electric shock had been administered. Lover has never seen them like this before in all these years. Certainly not a week ago when they helped pull their little stunt.
[NO JOKE NO JOKE]
Lover plays it cool though. She’s not going to do anything rash. Cameras are still rolling.
“Then go get the phone.” Sternly.
Aeo sprints to the back of the warehouse, kneels down and picks the phone up. Turning back, Lover swears she sees a bit of a twinkle in a lens, a spark, like the glitter in the eye of a first date. Aeo, holding the phone in both hands, runs back to Lover, who simply holds her own hand out, gaze still undeterred. She won’t be played this time.
[OPEN IT OPEN IT PLEASE <3]
Lover taps the screen and the video message begins. A woman, a human woman, with curly brown hair, plump cheeks, and hopeful eyes starts speaking, not with desperation, but with composure.
“This is for 6LoverKiller9.”
Lover’s eyes widen enough to split her face.
“My name is Mary. I and the others found your account yesterday during a routine survey. It’s so good to meet you.”
The voice of the woman is enough to send Lover into space.
“You are not alone. We are here to help. We want to find you.”
As she speaks, Lover notices a trembling at Mary’s hairline. At first glance, she thinks it’s the camera focusing. But looking closer, Lover sees it’s the same affliction she has. Mary is transforming as she is transmitting.
“I don’t have more time. Our communication must stay brief. Judging by your feed, you don’t look like you have much time either before it consumes you too. We’ve located you near Newark. We need you to stay there. We are on the way if you reply yes to this message. Hope to see you soon.”
Mary smiles before stopping the recording.
Lover immediately begins typing, adjusting her text language to appear less frantic, more conversationalist. She wants this to be real.
6LoverKiller9: Yes! I am here, Mary. Who are you??
maryberry: My name is Mary . Please just be there ! we are on the way ...
6LoverKiller9: I thought I was all alone. Where are you? I need to know everything!
maryberry is typing...
maryberry: what is your name ?
Honestly, it takes a moment for Lover to even remember. But she does. The letters feel familiar, but otherworldly as she types.
6LoverKiller9: My name is Leah.
maryberry: nice to meet you Leah ! I am on the way . Be safe :)
A thin line of red lettering indicates that maryberry has gone idle, and Lover is left with the chatbox in her hand like a bird with a broken leg. Without saying a word, Lover rises from her seat and begins walking to the mattress on the opposite side of the warehouse. Her legs nearly collapsing from atrophy, she manages to gain her balance enough to drag her body to the bed and give Aeo one final look before passing out.
8
And Lover dreams a stunning dream.
Mary is standing at the edge of the sprawl. A cartoonish landscape behind her, behemoths of buildings backdropping in front of a sunset of fire. Her curly hair, which glistens in the falling light, blows with the breeze.
“Leah.” Mary is whispering “I’m here.”
Lover is standing, cold and naked, nothing but her skin and bones. The breeze, which carries Mary’s honeyed tones, feels like a hundred pricking daggers.
“Where have you been?” Lover manages to wheeze out. Feeling a rise in her stomach, she begins coughing into her hand, which she notices is gloved in Follower skin. Blood globs in her palm, and Lover coughs some more into it. “Where have you been this whole time?”
“I’ve been looking for you.” Whispers carried by the wind.
Lover is standing directly in front of Mary now, who is also stripped to her skin. She can feel the heat of safety from the woman’s healthy and beautiful body. Pulling, pulling, Lover is gliding closer and closer til their bellies touch. The warmth spreads like vibrant color to Lover’s emaciated and war-torn frame.
“And now? I’ve found you. Leah.”
Kind green eyes, plump lips, saving grace. Mary is putting her hand to the back of Lover’s skull. Then, she is pulling on what little hair there is on her shaved head. She is bringing Lover’s lips to her own, and sparks begin flying between them.
The women begin intertwining their arms and legs, tangling themselves up in one another, levitating off the abandoned and desolate street, which begins fading and yielding to darkness. Lover and Mary embrace one another in void.
As Mary’s warmth spreads to Lover’s right side, she can feel the infection receding. The velvet skin is melting away, disappearing as if it never existed in the first place. Within eternal moments, Lover holds Mary as a fully reformed human. And the two make love like stunning animals.
Flashes and flashes and flashes. The cameras can’t get enough of them here. Numerous enough to be the stars themselves.
“Thank you.” Lover is breathing into Mary’s mouth as she kisses it.
And with that, Lover eases awake, feeling more hopeful than she has felt in an eternity.
9
Mary sits in the passenger seat staring out into the California desert as Daniel drives one of a million forgotten roads. Quite the drive ahead of them if they do it carefully, remain under the radar, don’t collect the attention of the cameras. Newark, New Jersey, what it once was, is about forty-eight straight hours from the Refuge if they maintain constant, moderate speed, between fifty-five and sixty miles per hour, and don’t run into any road blocks. But there will surely be road blocks. The Followers make sure to spice things up. And they’ll be watching for anomalies the whole way there.
“Your first rescue?” Daniel turns to Mary. “This’ll be my fifth. Although I haven’t had to go this far before to pick up one of these poor devils. Frankly I thought everything east of Denver was hopeless for sure.”
Mary shoots a shy smile at Daniel. She hasn’t gotten used to him yet. The way the transformation has progressed in him – it’s unsettling. The man is nearly half a Follower, with a substantial amount of his torso and head covered in velvet and cameras. His face, with only one eye surviving the encroaching spectacles and a small tuft of hair poking out from the top hat, gives her a kind look in return, genuine in its production, but disturbing at the surface. Mary feels strange about interacting with him. The disease has barely affected her, and she feels sorry they find themselves in such different physiological situations. But the mild nature of Mary’s made her the next prime candidate for the Refuge to conduct outreach; she has the most humanity to spare as she interacts with the FOLLOME app during the search.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” Daniel chuckles and looks back at the road. “That’s alright. It’s all good. If you want to talk though, you can. The damn disease hasn’t taken my voice just yet.”
The vehicle they drive through the desert in is one of the Refuge’s best tools of defense against the Followers during outreach. Plated in a kind of one-way glass, the outside of the SUV appears as a mirrored ghost on the outside, a shimmer, a trick of the eye. Even with the hordes focusing their cameras on it, the attempted streaming over the years has proven ineffective against the mirage that races by.
