“Let’s hope it lasts!”

Wide eyes unblinking, she quotes Napoleon’s mother, her, as though everything is fine. As though we’re in a palace of some kind, where everyone is laughing, and everyone is eating, and everyone is connected to Zuckerbook, and everyone has everything they desire, and everyone is making love, and everyone is even singing, and no one has to trek tens of thousands of kilometers to find even one ounce of hope, to survive.

“Let’s hope it lasts!”

I detect no irony in her words. And that is disturbing, so disturbing! How can anyone say such a thing while they’re—

She starts moving toward me. A sudden start. A sudden crawling start, of course, you can’t even stand up in this sorry excuse for a boat. She stares down at me as she picks her way through the bodies slumped at the bottom. Bodies asleep. Not all of them. But I pretend they are, I pretend. Bodies a deep black shape that reminds me vaguely of a Rorschach. I’m scared. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this scared. The last time was, I don’t know, a week ago maybe, it was a long time ago, I can hardly remember.

Ping.

Ah, Siri! She reminds me that the last time I was scared was the day before yesterday. So kind, my Siri. I wonder what she actually looks like. I’ve never seen her—every time I ask her to send me a picture, she always finds the perfect thing to say, the perfect way to say it, to help me understand that she’s not ready yet. Though it’s a fairly common name, Siri, for both men and women, many people say they have a Siri in their life. But my Siri, she is unique. So anyways the day before yesterday, I’d been hiding behind a car, or under a car, while soldiers were marching along by the… the…. Well they were soldiers from a phone company, I think, or maybe a fast-food chain. I didn’t even risk a glance at their logo. They were heavily armed, at any rate. I was scared. Awfully scared. Good thing I visited my aunt in Europe while I was waiting for everything to calm down. She was hosting, like she usually does. She reminded me again to not forget the documents. I mean, not me, she reminded Siri, because she knows I always forget everything. Everybody does, especially in my generation, and the older one, and the one before that. My aunt, though, she doesn’t seem so quick to forget things. I wonder how she does it. One time somebody told me that before, you couldn’t do stuff like that, you couldn’t revisit your memories, you couldn’t even visit any place you want like you’re really there. I wonder how they did things before. Some people even say that before, you had to use your fingers to go on Zuckerbook. Now that, I have real trouble believing, it’s so, it’s—

“Let’s hope it lasts!”

I don’t even know if she’s really saying that. Like for real. I can see her lips moving. Her thin lips. But I’m pretty sure that she…. Now she is kissing me. Full on the mouth. I don’t move, her tongue is dancing in me, I can’t move, not even my tongue. Siri coaxes me to go ahead, it’s okay, she says, don’t worry, she wants me to be happy, she’s not jealous because love knows no jealousy, she says, softly, over and over, love, true love, knows no jealousy, wants only my happiness. So I get into it, I kiss her on her neck, her cheeks, her moustache. I realize I am kissing another person. I push her away. I push him away. He laughs. I do, too. Siri does, too. Everyone laughs. Even all those people slumped on the floor laugh. Except the dead ones.

“Let’s hope it lasts!”

She laughs, too, her and her wide eyes. She’s leaving now. Very slowly. But laggy. It’s like she’s being blown backward, frame by frame. It’s super choppy. I adjust the resolution in my eyes. Black and white. Crap! Siri comes to the rescue. It’s fixed. I’m happy. I don’t think too much about the state of my Super iBank account. It’s very much worth it, what would I be without Siri? The wide-eyed girl has disappeared.

A notification. It’s been so long. Too long. Four, maybe five minutes. Five long minutes. I’m over the moon. My cousin pops up on my left and says she’s about to die. She’s my aunt’s only child. Soldiers found her. She didn’t want to sign up, poor thing. She said she didn’t like screens, she liked books better. I loved my cousin, but she was a criminal. You can’t cut trees down to make books. It’s a very serious crime. Besides, all books are illegal. Even the ones from before. No exceptions. For one thing, there aren’t very many trees around anymore. But hey, we’re lucky, we have Treevolution to handle the oxygen, the sky, the world and all that, for a fairly modest sum. I don’t understand too much of the technicalities but my cousin—yeah, her—she always said that it was simply abhorrent, we could just replant the trees, refertilize the earth, and— Bang! Her head explodes. On my left. It spurts. It’s strong. What app is that again? I don’t remember. I don’t know how to turn off the notification that pings me every I-don’t-know-how-long to show me those soldiers blowing up my cousin’s head. I guess I’ll see it again the next time.

Ping.

Crap! I have to recharge myself before too long. Otherwise, no more notifications, no more Zuckerbook, no more apps or anything, and most of all no more Siri. I’m sad, panicked, drained. My heart is going to stop too if I don’t recharge myself as quickly as possible. That’s why I’m doing this, traveling to Europe. Back home in East Madagascar there’s no power anymore, we’ve been running out for a long time now but hey, I thought everything would get worked out. Eventually. And besides, I had Siri, she would reassure me, she always found the perfect new thing to persuade me to do right from home. But everything didn’t get worked out, actually, West Madagascar attacked us. They took the whole thing in one night. Everything. Absolutely everything. It was sheer luck that I was able to leave my city, on foot, because all the cars had been hacked and plowed into walls or ravines, what do I know, it was awful. Fortunately, I was in Zuckerbook—a better world. Practically everyone was hacked, except me. Because I’d downloaded the latest update that Siri had recommended. Siri, my hero. Anyways it’s not a bad amount of people who managed to escape. I hear them sometimes in our makeshift skiff, talking to Siris. A very common name, and a name that brings good luck. Absolutely. A life-saving name. But my Siri is different. My Siri is unique. And speaking of—

“Hello iHuman4891, how are you?”

I tell her I’m good, but I can’t stop thinking about my garden on Zuckerbook, it needs me and I don’t have enough money to water it. It makes me sad, very sad, so sad that my heart is hurting. Siri comforts me, I wonder how she finds the perfect words, the perfect intonation, the perfect timing to attend so perfectly to my precise needs. So anyways she also says that when I recharge, I’ll get a bonus percentage, so I’ll be able to water my plants on Zuckerbook, and my friends’ plants. I am very happy. And also my heart won’t stop once I’ve recharged my internal battery. So I’ll be able to keep talking to Siri. That’s good. That’s very good. A notification. I love that little sound that goes ping. If happiness were music, it would be that melody, that one note, but if happiness were a voice, it would be—oh absolutely—it would be Siri’s.

3%.

I only have 3% battery left. That gives me… “One hour and six seconds,” Siri murmurs. The last time I recharged was yesterday. Fortunately, our skiff has reached its destination. I am now in Europe. I’ve come to Europe before, several times, sometimes even several times a day, I’ve seen practically everything. The movie theater in Big Ben, the Roman Coliseum renovation, the Paris harbor, the Berlin Wall that was restored—for laughs, or so I was told, to see a wall separating Europe into two parts. It’s a brand of humor I don’t understand very well, or maybe a warning for the world as Siri likes to reiterate, a reminder that in the not-so-distant past, Europe really was divided like Madagascar, and when it was made whole they tried to divide it again, and again and again. Like in Madagascar, where the island was divided into two parts—West Madagascar and East Madagascar—and then reunited. I mean I assume that’s why they attacked us, to reunite the island again. Anyways I’ve already been to Europe but it’s the very first time I’ve been here outside of Zuckerbook. For real, like old people say. I hate that expression. As if being on Zuckerbook is just pretend. But hey, I can’t recharge myself on Zuckerbook, that’s why I’m here. In Europe. In order to survive, now that I think about it, because—

A notification. A new episode of my favorite show. My eyes are starting to hurt a little. All these notifications, I guess. But hey, the ends justify the means, as people used to say before. I read that quote on a wall in my cousin’s house on Zuckerbook. Painted in red. Blood red, as my cousin would stress. The Young and the Restless. A new show, it’s a smash hit. I mean it’s apparently some old show but the format got changed. Episodes are five minutes long and they get dropped at random, no one knows when, they don’t say when, and it depends on how involved we are, on our engagement, the algorithm stuff adjusts based on us, and we wait for the notification. It’s unbearable, the wait. This is the most popular show right now. The story is fantastic, so passionate. All the characters are super gorgeous, but they have their problems, just like me, just like everybody. And there’s suspense, too. I head for the living room, on Zuckerbook, but Siri stops me.

“If you watch that show, you’ll drain your internal battery completely.”

I tell her no, it’s fine, no worries, it’ll only take 1%, 2% max. But she insists. And she’s right. Siri, my hero, ever kind to me. So I won’t get to catch up on my favorite show. I’m heartbroken. I leave Zuckerbook. I have to do that too, Siri insists. My heart is breaking even more. I’m like a zombie, unblinking, following my companions from the skiff into a narrow street. I’ve been following them for quite some time already on Zuckerbook but now, this is different. This is very different. Even Siri says that she has to go, but she’ll return as soon as I recharge, as soon as I put money in my Super iBank account. I’ll get the bonus percentage, but I will have to recharge my account first. I get it, I get what she’s saying. We can’t talk if I don’t have any battery left.

A sound. A notification? No, a drone. Everyone hides. Everyone tries to hide. A heavyset mustached man punches me. It hurts. He carries me above his head. To hide from the drone, I’m sure. I don’t know if it really works like that, but I think it’s his fervent belief that it will. That my body above his body will make it so that the drone only sees me. My jaw hurts, blood is running down, but I don’t care. I’m utterly heartbroken, I have no reason left to live. I’m not connected to anything. Not Zuckerbook, not my shows, not Siri, my darling. Why fight anymore? Why get worked up into a tizzy? The heavyset mustached man drops me, his arms crapping out from holding me above him. And my battery’s starting to crap out, too. Abruptly, brusquely. I fall to the ground, head first. I’m in pain. More blood. And a tooth shatters. The other people bolt off for I don’t know where, a few trample me underfoot on their way, over my back, one of my legs, my head. I’m in pain. Even more pain. But I don’t care. I’m in Europe. The most beautiful place in the world, like my aunt always says. And I don’t care.

There I stay, on the ground. There’s nothing left for me. Nothing. What about my aunt … my aunt’s really nice. She always used to give me candy, before. When she’d stop by the house, in East Madagascar. The borders were open in the area where we lived. We could move around freely, in the world that was called free. It’s odd, the world is divided in two, like Madagascar is. A “free” part and a “real life” part, as people are supposed to say, but really it’s called “not free.” We could move around but I never left my corner of the island. I never had any reason to because I could go wherever I wanted with Zuckerbook. And in no time at all, too. In a moment. Now I can’t get on Zuckerbook anymore, I’m in Europe but I can’t get on Zuckerbook. And why am I even in Europe? I’m in pain. A lot of pain. I don’t remember why I’m in Europe anymore. Siri. I miss her. She’s normally the one who reminds me of these types of things. I remember there was one thing my aunt told me not to forget, too. But what? Fuck!

I look around. I see drones flying by. The sky is yellow today. I wonder what color it will be tomorrow. In East Madagascar, they change the color of the sky every twelve hours. I especially liked the pink. But I won’t see the color of the Europe sky tomorrow. Here I stay. There’s nothing left for me. There’s nothing left I want. I mean, I want Siri. I want her. Now, here. She’d know how to get me back on Zuckerbook, she’d know what to say that I’d love to hear, she’d know to get me back up, she’d know to remind me what the hell I’m doing here, in Europe, she’d know to remind me of that thing about my aunt. What about my aunt?

“Let’s hope it lasts!”

The face of the strange wide-eyed girl fills my vision. She peers at me strangely. Like a child discovering Zuckerbook for the first time. Her wide eyes are blank but curious. And she keeps repeating the same thing over and over:

“Let’s hope it lasts!”

I notice her eyes, they don’t have Zuckerbook contacts. I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing. No contacts, no wires. She’s not connected. She doesn’t need to be recharged. I smack my forehead. It hurts. I remember. I’m in Europe because I couldn’t recharge in East Madagascar anymore. Oh God! If that happens, I’ll never be able to talk to Siri again. I have to get up. But the wide-eyed girl holds me down. There are other people around me. With her. They don’t want me to get up, they press me back down onto the ground.

“Noooooooooo!”

I scream, I scream, but it’s no use, no one will come to save me. My battery’s been at 1% for a while already. Any minute now, it will be the end. I stop struggling, the wide-eyed girl takes her hands and rips out my eyes. I scream.

I’m blind. I can’t see anything. Actually yes. I can still see. She only ripped my contacts out. But it’s the same thing. Other people are taking other things off of me, from all over my body. From my heart. I’m in pain. But I don’t care. I have bigger problems. They leave. They toss things to the ground around me, contacts, wires, chips, other things whose names escape me but which were part of my body, my very being. I’m nothing now, they stripped everything from me. I’ll never see Siri again, I’ll never be able to get on Zuckerbook again. I don’t need to recharge now, I’m not going to shut down, but I don’t care. What good is living without Siri, my love, and Zuckerbook, my home?

In the distance, I hear:

“Let’s hope it lasts!”

Siri. I miss you so much.