After two months, Ivy and I were texting every day. We’d been on six dates. It wasn’t all smooth sailing. My Worthy score went down after I belittled her taste in ’90s music, and then went down even further when my apology “wasn’t really an apology.” (It took me days of troubleshooting with the different suggested reconciliation routines to get back into her good graces.) But I finally saw my Worthy score go up to “Spark” level. I immediately used the app to take a selfie of myself in Harvard Square. When I checked my camera roll, there was a photo of me and Ivy together, standing in front of the old magazine kiosk and smiling into the camera. She was dressed for the weather in a cute red sweater and her cheeks were a little rosy from the cold. She looked great. She texted me, “I had a great time hanging out with you today. Let’s do it again soon. <3”
I told my mom I was seeing someone and sent her the photo of me and Ivy together. My mom was ecstatic. She told me she was “so glad I took her advice to get out and meet new people,” and that “life is too short to spend alone, you know!” My parents began asking about Ivy every time I talked to them. My mom wanted to know all the details—how we met, how old Ivy was, where she was from, what her job was, on and on.
That’s when I started to feel uncomfortable about the whole thing. I thought that once I told my parents I was dating someone, they would leave me alone, but it turned out they were only more interested. Worthy gives each of its 12 standard models a backstory, but it’s not really enough to be convincing. I had to fill in the gaps with some of Mikala’s life and some stuff I made up. I might’ve made Ivy sound too good. According to me, she was 27 years old, a successful lawyer, and into cooking and photography.
I was also spending more time talking to Ivy than I originally meant to, and a lot more than I needed just to get photos and videos to send to my parents. She was upbeat and nonjudgmental—I found myself telling her stuff I couldn’t even tell Mikala sometimes, and as long as I treated her well she didn’t send mixed messages or try to guilt me like some other girls I’ve been with. After six months, we’d gotten to “Committed” level and I was constantly getting emails and notifications from Worthy encouraging me to upgrade to Worthwhile. I guess their algorithm thought I was ready to move on to dating real humans.
I looked into it, but I’d heard about people making the move to Worthwhile and being disappointed. Meeting people IRL is more complicated and unpredictable, and I read a review that said having a high score on Worthy doesn’t actually seem to get you more or better dates when you move to Worthwhile. Also, Worthy is rated 4.1 stars on AppChart and Worthwhile is only 3.4 stars. So a lot of people stick with Worthy. I even read about this one lady who tried to get married to her Worthy boyfriend. (She couldn’t.)
I decided to tell my parents the truth. When I went to visit them over Thanksgiving, I would explain that I’d lied about having a girlfriend for the past year because I was frustrated with their well-meaning but selfish expectations of me. Worthy has a “Talking Tips” feature that helps you frame your feelings when you have difficult conversations with your AI partner. I was going to straight-up use their template on my parents.
The problem was, I couldn’t do it. When I showed up, my mom and dad were so happy to see me that I couldn’t bring myself to burst their bubble. I’m an only child. My mom comes from a big family and always wanted more kids, but my parents needed the carbon footprint household tax break in order to pay off their student debt. My dad is an only child, too, and my grandparents are always asking him if I’m married yet. With the falling birth rates and stuff, I guess they’re all hoping for grandchildren so our family doesn’t just … end, I guess.
Then things went downhill. My mom gave me grief about not bringing Ivy home to meet them. My dad insisted we all video chat with her before Thanksgiving dinner.
I was sweating bullets. I couldn’t think of a good excuse to say no. My membership plan on Worthy includes 10 minutes of video chat per week, but I’d already used them up. I contacted Worthy technical support and bought 15 add-on minutes at an exorbitant price. When I called Ivy with my parents in the room, I was sure the jig was up. There’s a big Worthy logo right in the corner of the screen, but my parents just thought it was the logo of the video chat app. Then Mikala/Ivy appeared on screen and said, “Hi, sweetheart!” just like normal. I introduced my parents and we all had this totally nice, normal conversation. Sometimes Ivy paused before answering—I’m not sure if it was the AI querying a database of all the right things to say to a boyfriend’s parents, or if it was the FaceAbout app applying the deepfake, but it was barely noticeable. It just seemed like she was thinking more than usual, maybe nervous talking to my parents. A perfectly normal way for a human to act under the circumstances.
My parents were charmed. When we were about to hang up, I said “See you later,” and she said, “I’m so glad you finally introduced me to your parents. I can’t wait to spend more time with them.” That’s probably a stock line of dialogue, but my mom took it as a sign that Ivy was serious about marriage, and that I was the one dragging my feet. She was on my case about commitment the whole rest of the weekend, and then flat out asked me when I was going to propose. That’s when I should’ve told them the truth. I think if we had been texting or emailing, I could’ve done it. But it’s different when you’re talking to someone in person. I don’t know what came over me, but I just blurted, “Next year.”
Now that it’s January, my mom has started sending me articles about the best places to shop for engagement rings and how to judge the quality of diamonds. Lately, Ivy has been breaking out of girlfriend mode, saying, “We haven’t been talking as much. It seems to me that you’re ready to move on to a more fulfilling relationship. Why not take the next step in your love life and contact Worthy customer support about upgrading to a Worthwhile membership?”
(FWIW, I think the company is really pushing the upgrades because they’re losing customers to competitors. There are a ton of other dating apps to choose from, and some of them are even offering discounts for people with good Worthy scores.)
I feel awful for lying to my parents, but I don’t want to give up Ivy. I like being able to chat with her about anything, knowing she’s always there for me, doing nice things for her and making her happy. I didn’t know how much I’d enjoy feeling connected to another person like that. I’m online talking to other people all day, but it’s just not the same as knowing that you matter to someone else. Except none of this is real. I’m such a mess.
TL;DR: I used dating and deepfake apps to fool my parents into thinking I’m in a serious romantic relationship. Also, I think I have real feelings for my virtual girlfriend.
UPDATE: I’m literally shaking right now. I can’t believe how badly I screwed up. I took the advice some of you gave me and decided to spend more time with my friends in real life to get my head back on straight. I’ve been hanging out with Mikala more often. She and Ivy have the same face, so it’s kind of like hanging out with Ivy, except that Mikala is a real person. They have different personalities, though, and like I said, we enjoy hanging out as friends and there’s no chance of anything happening between us. (And NO, I don’t have unfulfilled sexual desires for her like some of you keep insisting.) Though sometimes my brain does this little skip where I can’t recall if a memory I have was with Mikala or with Ivy.
Anyway, today, Mikala and I were having lunch and I got up to go to the bathroom. I left my phone on the table and while I was gone, Ivy texted me a selfie with the message, “Miss you lots! XOXO.” Mikala happened to look down at the notification and saw her own face blowing a kiss at the screen. When I came back to the table, Mikala was holding my phone and scrolling through my camera roll which included dozens of photos of Ivy, and some of me and Ivy together. She demanded to know where the hell the photos had come from.
All the blood was rushing to my face and I felt like throwing up. I told her the whole story. I didn’t know what else to say. The expression on her fac
e made me want to shrivel up and die. She said, “I can’t imagine why you could’ve thought this was okay on any level.” She got up and left. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.
**Edit: I haven’t used Mikala’s real name in this post, so don’t bother trying to search for her. I don’t want anyone showing this to her or trying to contact her.
**Edit: Frankly disturbed by how many of you are discussing how to use the FaceAbout app on your own friends and significant others. Are you learning nothing here??
UPDATE: Thanks everyone for your advice and support. I don’t know how I could’ve gotten through this past week without the help of strangers on the internet. I especially appreciated hearing from other people who’ve had their own bad experiences with Worthy. It made me feel much less alone. (@Joshing21, I agree that what your girlfriend was doing with “Evan” counts as cheating and you should dump her.) Some of you are jerks who deserved to have your comments deleted, but I appreciate that others took the time to share stories about being deepfaked and were nice about helping me to understand why Mikala was hurt by what I did. (@AngJelly, I would never have gone that far. I hope you sue that asshole.)
A few days ago, I received a video message from Ivy. The look of disappointment and betrayal on her face was just like the one I’d seen on Mikala. They do have the same face, after all. She said, “I’m deeply hurt by your behavior. A healthy relationship is based on mutual honesty. It seems you were just using me, and not actually invested in improving yourself as a person. I’m sorry, but I can’t see you anymore.”
It turns out Mikala contacted Worthy customer service and told them that I’d used her likeness without permission. (I don’t know if she tried to contact FaceAbout as well, but they’re based in Belarus and don’t seem to have a contact number or email. Last time I checked, I could still use the app.) I got an email from Worthy informing me that due to my violation of their terms of service, they’ve suspended my account and deleted all my saved history with Ivy. However, they added that their company is based on the philosophy of helping people learn from interpersonal mistakes, so I can reactivate my account after three months, although my Worthy score would be reset to zero.
I told my parents that Ivy broke up with me. It’s the truth. I didn’t even have to pretend to sound gut-punched. My mom is convinced that I “let a good one go” because of my lack of emotional maturity, but she also says that “there are plenty of fish in the ocean” and I just need to “put myself out there again.” I’m not ready, though. I still check my locked-down Worthy app several times a day out of habit, hoping to see a message from Ivy, even though I know there won’t be any more.
The good news is that this whole experience has taught me I need to evaluate how I relate to people. I’ve been deluding myself into thinking that actions in a game-learning environment are a substitute for true human connection and authentic personal growth. That’s how my therapist, Susan, puts it, anyway, and I agree. I’ve started seeing her twice a week. The appointments happen online, which works well for my schedule. Actually, she’s a virtual program. After Ivy broke up with me, I got a 40% discount code from Worthy for their mental health app, Worth It, which guides you through a 60-day “Healing From Loss of a Relationship” program. I’m also planning to do the 30-day “Recenter Your Self Worth” module. Not sure if I’m going to upgrade my subscription to do the 90 days of “Opening Yourself to Possibilities,” but I’ve read good reviews about it.
TL;DR: Thanks to all of you, and to Susan, I’m moving on from this difficult experience with all the support I need to become a better person. Peace!
* * *
Fonda Lee is the World Fantasy Award-winning author of the epic urban fantasy Green Bone Saga, beginning with Jade City and continuing in Jade War and Jade Legacy, as well as the acclaimed science fiction novels Zeroboxer, Exo and Cross Fire. She is a three-time winner of the Aurora Award, and a multiple finalist for the Nebula Award and the Locus Award. Fonda is a former corporate strategist, black belt martial artist, Eggs Benedict enthusiast, and action movie aficionado. Born and raised in Canada, she now resides in Portland, Oregon. Find her online at www.fondalee.com.
A Bird, a Song, a Revolution
By Brooke Bolander
Before the flute is a flute, it is a bird. This is the first act of magic. This is the first lesson the girl learns, when the world is still young and shaggy-coated with lingering winter. Sometimes things can be other things. An axehead hides in a chunk of flint. Before it is a meal, a mammoth is a squealing calf tagging along behind its mother. A fox is a white spirit barking curses until an arrow finds it and turns it into a friend that shields your ears from the wind’s teeth.
And before it is a flute, a bird is a song lodged in a treetop.
The girl listens to the song. Every day she listens, and it makes her feel things she can’t describe, like when the boar-dancers charge and prance and the fire flickers so they almost look real. She wants to share that feeling, but she’s no boar-dancer. She wants to take that feeling and hoard it deep down where the frost never thaws, beneath the roots and sod.
“Come play with us!” the other children tease. Warmer weather shuffles in, longshadow days when the sun lingers at the edge of the world like a wandering storyteller at the end of a feast. There are blue flowers in the grass like stars, a mosquito buzzing in every ear. “Come and pick hazelnuts! Come and hunt lark eggs! Come play Bear-And-Elk!”
But the girl sits beneath the tree, listening, head cocked to cup the notes in her left ear.
She turns a bundle of sticks and twigs and sinew from the midden pile into a cage. She watches the fisherwomen at their weaving, twisting reeds and tying knots with their flashing hands until a tangled nest of net nestles at their feet. Her twists are not so smooth and her knots fray and fuzz and the spaces between her links would barely keep a minnow from slithering through, but all she needs is all she needs, and it only needs to work once. She strips the grasses of their seeds and collects them in a little pouch until it bulges like a he-lemming’s sack. The other children have dismissed her as a lost cause; the adults are beginning to furrow and frown.
The weather turns. The songs in the tree grow hungry. She scatters a little of the seed every day, until they flitter and flutter and settle at her feet—not trusting, exactly, but side-eye greedy enough to risk a girl’s presence. Their bellies are round and splattered with speckles like mud on a hunter’s calves. That something so plain could sing so sweetly is also a marvelous magic. Nearness turns them into something familiar enough to seem attainable. It gives her the courage to at last one day throw her net.
She keeps the bird in its cage near the head of her sleeping place at night, and feeds it a little of the grass seeds every day. At night the music wraps around her dreams, twisting them into songs as well. The adults indulge her strangeness and hang an amusing name around her neck: Whistlecage, the girl who spent an entire season’s worth of warmth capturing a thing anyone could hear in the trees with no trouble at all.
But the sound is sweet, that they have to admit. When blizzards howl and stomp outside their shelters like the great sloths in rut, the bird’s song burbles unthawed, a reminder of green grass and yellow fat and longshadow days past and still to come.
• • • •
Before the future child in her future city is a revolution, she is a dirty-faced mudlark picking through the sticky treasures of low tide. The shores are white with the bones of all the people she’s seen die—her mother and her father, her siblings, and so very many of her friends. The river’s edge is a wide-open dare. She comes back to it time and time again, too hungry and desperate not to take the wager. You can find useful things in the stained sagging crumple of buildings that line the shores. Linger too long and you’ll be drowned or picked off by drones. Dig deep, and sometimes you’ll be fed for a week by what you scrounge up.
There’s a half-submerged temple tilted half-in, half-out of the black water, algae crawling
up its columns. Every evening bats spill from its cracked dome like midges rising from the river’s surface. The girl is intrigued by what may be inside, although most of her curiosity is because she’s so hungry she’s been eating half-rotted fish scavenged from the mud. She watches and waits for a time when the waterline is low enough to reveal the slimy marble of the great staircase, crouched nearby in the undergrowth like a forgotten, stave-ribbed gargoyle.
• • • •
Before the flute is a flute, it is a stag’s death. It drops into the world like all deer, slippery and wobbling but soon swift-footed. It drinks mother’s milk, cuts the turf with its hooves, and grows into a great antlered thing that whistles and sings as sweetly as any bird in the trees. It meets hunters in the tall grass, and they work the magic that hunters work and turn it into meat and skin and handles for the people’s knives. Bones, too. Marrow fills the hollow places, so rich and good they save it for special occasions and special persons, like the wrinkled witch who wanders up out of the marshes one day, slimy to her gnarled knees.
Whistlecage has never seen her before, but others have. She is a gatekeeper, they say. She knows paths through the wet places that lead into other worlds. Many objects dangle at her belt. Bird feathers and seedpods. Polished oyster shells that turn the light, tiny pointed skulls with yellow incisors and empty eyes. A great flat oval of rock that roars like a bull mammoth when she spins it over her head on its rawhide tether, causing the children to cry out and flee. She laughs at them and her white teeth flash. How does she still have all her teeth, and how are they so startlingly bone-white? No one has ever seen a mouth like that.
They feast her and they house her and in return she tells them stories. She sees all things at once, she says. The days that have come and died, and the days yet to be born. Settlements where people swarm like termites in mounds that scrape the sky. Fevers and fires, all the lives in all the graves scattered across the yellow-grassed world and all the lives that will not end until the glaciers give up their dead. Her stories scare them. They shiver at the immensity of the things they were born too early for and will die too soon to see, edging closer to hear more.
The Long List Anthology Volume 6 Page 7
