Chapter 9 The Big Bad Love Machine

666.

Victoria was trying to nap on the bus back from work, when someone started slapping the side of the vehicle, waking her up.

The bus, slowed down, then came to a stop.

Victoria was already shutting her eyes when Alice stepped on the bus.

‘Shit.’ said Victoria.

‘Vickie!’ Alice was smiley, dressed in the severed skins of endangered species. ‘Vickie, my darling angel, what are you doing on the bus with the poor people.’ the poor people glared at her, as she high heeled her way up the bus. Alice pointed out the window, at the limousine, ‘come in and join us, we’re eating caviar and pizza.’ the bus driver, kickstarted the bus into action. ‘Hey, i didn’t say you could go yet.’ the bus kept moving. ‘Prick.’ she muttered, then turned her smile full wattage at Victoria.

Victoria was looking at Alice’s friends behind her: Botox Pufferfish-face, and Blondie FakeTan.

Alice sat down next to Victoria.

‘Whatever, we’ll get into the limo next stop. Gum?’ she offered Victoria a stick of gum.

‘I’m... no thanks.’

‘You’re right, its probably covered in A.I.Ds or something.’ Alice stuck the gum in her mouth and began to chew. ‘I’m rich now. My daddy invested in blueAI, so of course I’m rich now. We have a private jet and everything. I also have a boyfriend with a huge cock and fucking him feels wonderful. Do you have a boyfriend? ‘

‘I-’

Botox interrupted: ‘Oh, Alice don’t be cruel. Obviously not.’

‘I do have a boy friend.’ Victoria lied.

‘No you don’t.’ said Alice. ‘What do you do for a living?’

Victoria didn’t say anything.

‘She’s wearing a name tag.’ said Botox.

‘Oh my god, are you wearing a name tag?’ asked Alice. ‘Now, I have to know, Victoria what do you do for a living?’

‘Can you leave me alone.’ said Victoria.

‘She works at the thrift shop.’ said Fake Tan. ‘I bought my uggs from her. She was very helpful.’

‘Oh that’s so sad.’ said Alice. ‘Victoria tell me it’s not true. Tell me at least one of your silly little dreams came true.’

‘Fuck off.’ shouted Victoria.

‘I bet you don’t have any friends either.’

‘I have fucking tons actually.’

Alice stole Victoria’s phone out her inside pocket.

‘Well lets check your contact list,’ said Alice.

‘Give that back.’ snapped Victoria, lunging for her phone. But now it was in the hand of Botox Pufferfish-face.

‘Okay, I think we’re going too far.’ said Fake Tan.

‘Shut the fuck up, she broke my arm.’ said Alice.

‘Shut the fuck up.’ said the bus driver. ‘I’m trying to drive.’

Victoria went for her phone, then fake tan had it, she tried to give it back when Alice snatched it out her hand.

She flipped it open, typed in Victoria’s birthday and unlocked it.

Victoria reached for her phone and Alice slapped her.

‘Alice!’ said Fake Tan.

Alice frowned.

‘That’s annoying, you actually have two contacts: dad and who the fuck is “best friend forever”? I have to have a word with them.’ Alice hit speed dial.

At that moment the bus shuddered to a halt, Alice was off balance in her heels, and the phone came fumbling out her hands, Victoria caught it before it even touched the ground. But it was too late, because Alice’s phone had started ringing.

Victoria hung up, and Alice’s phone stopped ringing. Alice and her gal pals stared at her in amazement.

The bus driver was climbing up the aisles, then pointed at all of them: ‘All of you, off now.’

Victoria was now walking to the next bus stop, while Alice followed her in the limousine.

‘After all this time,’ said Alice in mock-sweet tones. ‘You still love me.’

‘Shut up, I just... forgot to delete you from my contacts.’

‘Oh that’s so sweet,’ said Alice. ‘I just bet you have night time fantasies of us scissoring together,  do you, like, masturbate to the idea of licking my verucas?’

‘Shu-’

‘Are you going to tell me to shut up? Friends don’t do that to each other Victoria, you’re a horrible person Victoria, treating your BFF this way.’

Victoria didn’t have a comeback.

‘Why aren’t you telling me to shut up? Are you too hungry because you can’t afford food. I bet you go to the food bank every day, don’t you, you penniless hobo.’  

Victoria was now looking at something down the street.

‘Alice, I’m bored.’ said Botox.

‘Oh my god, can you shut up while i’m making Victoria miserable.’

‘We also have the doctor’s appointment at six.’ said fake tan, she glanced at Victoria. ‘We should probably go or something.’

‘Urgh, fine.’ said Alice. Her smile sunshined out the limo window. ‘So sorry, Victoria, but we have to all get our liposuctions, so we don’t end up looking like you, no offense best friend forever.’

Victoria was picking something off the pavement.

‘Ah she’s bending over, she’s about to fart!’

Victoria stood up straight with a brick in her hand.

‘Shit she’s got a brick, go, go, go!’ The limo was accelerating, then speeding.

Victoria threw and smashed a tail light, in an explosion of red glass.

But Alice was howling with laughter as the limo, sped down the street, as if getting your tail light smashed in, was all part of the fun and games.

‘Love you, Victoria!’ shouted Alice. ‘Enjoy slaving away for the rest of your pathetic little life!’

Victoria would never see Alice again.

Alice fluttered a hand over her chest. ‘God, my hearts pumping gallons a second, why was that so fun?’

Fake Tan was looking at her, at the microscopic, neon squiggles skittering across Alice’s twin pupils.

Alice spotted her.

‘You’ve got a problem?’

Fake Tan looked away, and fidgeted.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You know one day, you’re prosthetic personality is going to get a dead battery right?’ said Botox.

Alice stared at her.

In the bottom left corner of her vision, it read in green pixellated text:

Quote: “At least I have a personality.”

Tone: sarcastic.

Expression: Roll eyes.

‘At least I have a personality.’ said Alice, sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

‘Did... did the lenses tell you to, you know, like, slapVictoria.’ asked Fake Tan.

Quote: “No you idiot, the contact lenses, don’t control me you know.”

Tone: devastating.

Expression: Violent sneer.

‘No you idiot.’ said Alice, her lips slashing into a gaping flesh wound filled with monkey teeth. ‘the contact lenses don’t control me you know.’

The contact lenses were the best birthday present her daddy had ever gotten her. Everybody agreed she was much more charming now, her boyfriend (who didn’t know she had the lenses) admitted that he was considering breaking up with her, but now he really enjoys her company (he’s now a bit clingy actually), and if she ever found a conversation boring she didn’t have to waste energy thinking about what to say.

The only drawback was that certain racial slurs violated the company’s content policy, and the lens suffered from corporate stooge syndrome, being annoyingly polite. Beating the decency out of it had taken a lot of RLHF (currently the best technique at controlling AI systems) but now they were partners in crime.

‘I think...’ said Fake Tan. ‘I think maybe you should update the settings. Get some nicer dialogue, so you’re less, um...’ Fake Tan skipped a word. ‘y’know what I mean?’

Alice opened the keyboard on the lens, the alphabet displayed in virtual reality, Alice began to type out a prompt, on a keyboard only she could see.

‘Um... what are you typing?’ asked Fake Tan.

Quote: “I’m not typing anything.”

‘I’m not typing anything.’ Alice repeated.

In the prompt bar were the words: Plot revenge.

‘You think I need nicer dialogue?’ asked Alice.

‘I mean,’ Fake Tan was panicky. ‘I mean, don’t you?’

Alice smiled and clicked enter.

She looked away from fake tan signalling the end of the conversation.

Fake Tan saw the look on Alice’s face, saw her look away, then spent the rest of the limo ride panicking silently, too afraid to apologise.

Alice got home and followed the lenses step by step instructions, she used deepfake technology to create gigabytes of revenge porn with Fake Tan’s face on the actors, as she was screwed from all angles. She then posted it on porn hub, and sent links to all Fake Tan’s friends and family, casually ruining her life.

Alice would spend the rest of her life, incredibly rich, incredibly happy, never working a day in her life, spending every other weekend, tanning on the beaches of ibiza.

Just like she deserved.

60.

The tree’s roots stank of dead everything, it’s spindly skewering fingers waving in the wind and-

‘No.’ said Charlie. He got out the small jar of tipex and erased the line, reset the typewriter, and began again.

The scarecrow had been waiting for such a long time, its burlap face twitched, and clothes shivered in the wind. Its painted on smile was such a grizzly threat, as it waited and waited and

Charlie had no idea what the next word should be.

He back pedaled and rewrote the paragraph, exactly the same as before.

and the scarecrows mouth ripped apart, as if a knife sharp tongue had cut and ripped from left corner to right corner, there was a burst of straw.

The mouth lolled open, and then scrunched shut, as it gained control over its new organ.

And then the scarecrow said:

61.

Victoria had just woken up and couldn’t wait to get back to sleep.

Sleep, she actually enjoyed, everything else was bullshit.

She let out a deep breath.

She eventually got up, dumped the denim jacket on the bedpost, but kept the rest of her clothes on because she couldn’t be bothered to change.

She went downstairs, watered the plant on the window sill, a geriatric fuck which was clinging onto life against all reason.

She burnt some toast, and ate it, even though somebody told her that burnt toast gives you cancer.

Everything gives you cancer, because everything is cancer, surprise.

She brushed her teeth, being extra careful not to look in the mirror.

She blew her nose into a tissue and flushed it.

She couldn’t be bothered to leave the bathroom, so she just shut the lid on the toilet, sat down and stayed there for most of the day.

At some point, she realized that she wasn’t going to make it.

She thought about saying goodbye to her dad and rejected it.

He’d probably be thrilled if I killed myself, he would ask to watch and take pictures, so he could write a realistic suicide scene in his next book. 

No goodbyes.

Just disappear before he realizes what’s happening.

In the kitchen, Charlie was reading. ‘Oh, hey Vick.’

‘Hey dad.’

The conversation ended there. They shared eye contact for a second -Charlie had no idea what to say - so he just made a polite cough and returned to his book. Victoria strode her way to the counter.

Charlie took another go at the conversation.

‘Um… How was your day?’

‘Like every other.’

‘That’s... good?’

‘Yup.’

‘Good.‘ Charlie didn’t know what to say next. ‘Remember I’ve got pens whenever you want.‘

‘Uh huh.’ Victoria didn’t care. ‘What time is it?‘ 

While Charlie was looking at the clock on the wall, Victoria took a knife out of the knife block and hid it behind her back. ‘8:30? Yeah 8:30 pm.‘ when Charlie looked around, Victoria was gone.

Everything was quiet for a moment.

‘See you around.’ He said to the shut door.

Charlie turned the page, and yawned.

8:35.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

He checked his watch. It was getting late.

I could just read one more chapter, he thought.

But if I did that, I’d be too tired to brush my teeth.

He sighed and put his book down. It was a good one too, by Terry Pratchett.

He began to walk up the stairs, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight, to the bathroom where Victoria had left the light on. 

He put his hand on the handle and turned it.

‘No dad, don’t come in!’

Charlie entered the bathroom, to find his one and only daughter, trying to cut her own throat in the shower.

She’d forgotten to lock the door.

‘Victoria.’ he whimpered.

Victoria was so unbelievably still. The serrated edge was pressed against her neck still. It felt silly for some reason. One day, dad, will look back on this and laugh, she thought.

Charlie moved one foot forward.

‘Don’t.’ she said. For a moment everything was frozen, then he moved his foot back. ‘Dad can you please leave and shut the door.’

‘Victoria,’ his hands were shaking, he put them behind his back, so she wouldn’t see. ‘Victoria, please don’t do this, you’re not well.... I can help. We’ll get you some medicine. We’ll go to the doctors. Just put down the knife and we’ll watch a movie, okay.’ 

‘Dad, I want to be alone, please leave me alone, I deserve to be alone.’

‘No.’ he said. 

‘I hate you, dad, I hate you, why can’t you just give me some privacy.’

‘I love you.’ he said. ‘I will never stop loving you. You could kill me and I’d still love you.’ he took one step forward.

Am I really going to kill myself, right now, thought Victoria. What if I get blood on his shoes?

‘Please dad, I... fucking beg you. You don’t have to clean to up after me... I guh-googled it, the ambulance will do that for you. But I’ll turn the shower on, so the... red gets washed away, okay.’

‘Victoria you are the most precious thing in this life. You deserve to live. You are going to live.’

Charlie took one step and then another, then calmly removed the knife from her hand.

Victoria burst into tears.

‘Dad, I’m... sorry.’ she touched her neck, at the red claw marks decorating her throat. ‘It wouldn’t go through. I tried so fucking hard and it wouldn’t go through, and I hate myself, I just wanted to die.’

Charlie didn’t know what to say.

He just took Victoria’s hand.

‘Me and you, We’re gunna call a doctor, now okay?’

She nodded.

Her lip trembled, as she tried to speak.

‘You want to say something?’ asked Charlie.

‘Dad, I really want a hug,’ said Victoria. ‘can I have a hug please,’

‘Of course, you can.’ he said.

They embraced each other, and Victoria cried into his shoulder.

62.

Victoria was sitting, with a phone to her ear in the kitchen, her dad sat opposite her.

The phone picked up.

‘Hello, this is Alexander from the crisis team speaking, how can I help?’

‘Hello, hi, my name is Victoria and I think I need to be put into a mental hospital.’

‘Okay, Victoria, could you please give me your full name, address and date of birth.’

She gave him everything.

Alexander continued: ‘Okay Victoria, why do you think you need to be put in hospital?’

‘Um, well… well first I, uh, this is going to sound silly, but I tried to… open my neck with a bread knife, but I couldn’t do it… so I’m not sure if I’m actually suicidal, or if I just think I’m suicidal. I know that sounds stupid, but I tried to cut my throat and I couldn’t do it. Anyway, I was wondering if I could be put in a hospital until I’m… safe or something.’

‘Okay, we’re a bit full at the moment.’ Said Alexander ‘Have you tried therapy? Medication, anything like that?’

‘Um…’ Victoria tried to remember. ‘No and no.’

‘Well you’re in luck.’ Said Alexander. ‘This means there’s loads of option you haven’t explored yet. It should also be mentioned that we only use mental hospitals for really extreme cases, studies suggest that it’s more effective if a mentally ill person is, y’know, kept amongst family and friends, then they recover a lot more quickly. Does that make sense?’

‘Yes, that makes sense.’ Said Victoria.

‘Okay, well don’t hesitate to call us again.’

‘You were a massive help.’ She said.

‘No problem.’ Said Alexander. ‘See ya.’

‘Bye.’ Said Victoria.

The phone went silent.

‘What happened?’ said Charlie, leaning slightly over the table.

‘He said I should try therapy and medication.’ She said.

‘That’s great.’ Said Charlie. ‘Let’s book a hospital appointment as soon as possible, okay?’

Victoria nodded and sat slumped in her chair, chin on her collar bone, eyes half closed.

It seemed as if Victoria had left her body.

There was a quiet.

‘Follow me.’ He said. ‘I know what will cheer you up.’

They went into the kitchen and her dad went about the process of making mug cakes, that’s pancake mix, poured into mugs, and cooked in the microwave, until it forms a fluffy dough mixture with a creamy inside, and it tastes like happiness.

‘My dad used to make me these, every Saturday, when I was a kid.’

She ate hers with a teaspoon.

‘It tastes good dad, thank you.’

They then played a game of scrabble.

 ‘Okay, your turn dad.’ said Victoria.

‘Okay,’ said Charlie. ‘Is... “goopz” a word.’

‘Dad, didn’t you used to be an english teacher?’

‘I’m taking that as a no.’

Victoria realized about half way through the game, that Charlie was letting her win.

She decided not to mention it.

He then put her in the sitting room and he turned on Monty Python and the Holy grail, saying: ‘When I get sad, I always watch this movie, and it cheers me up so, so much.’

They were sitting apart on the couch, while the frenchman catapulted the trojan rabbit at the protagonists.

Victoria checked to see if her dad was looking, then sat next to him.

Charlie smiled, hugged her and kissed her forehead.

They watched the rest of the film with her head on his shoulder.

***

Chapter 10