Chapter Text
The backpack slammed against Michael’s back every time his racing feet hit the floor, with the ruby elixir of the gods splashing around from within.
All this time suffering in loneliness could finally end, and it could even mean something by showing Jeremy just how important their friendship was and how fighting through life together was always better. Michael pushed aside the lesson he tried to convince himself of when he was alone, which was something about how he only needed himself. Sure, all he needed was himself, he guessed, but the only thing that loneliness taught him was that life was so much better with Jeremy in it.
Adrenaline surged through his veins as he surged through the mini hall like lightning. Thunder always follows lightning, and that thunder was a Michael slamming into a closed door.
The hit from the door was a harsh reminder that he didn’t actually win Jeremy back yet, and that it was never going to happen if he kept getting lost in the entire area behind the backstage like some.... some dumbass. Well, he might as well open the door he just slammed into, just in case it led to anything.
The anticipation of reconciliation battled against the fear of facing rejection again as he spun the metal knob. Fear won, which is why his aching shoulders relaxed when the room revealed itself to be full of props but devoid of people. He flipped on the lights, despite the vacancy, and stumbled through a flood of old props.
Just a moment later, Michael resisted the urge to disown himself.
This is stupid! Michael thought. Why the hell would Jeremy hide behind a prop in the darkest and sketchiest room in existence during his recital? What did I expect to happen-- that he would pop up and exclaim, “Woo! You got me!” before snatching the Mountain Dew Red from my hands and gulping it down? God.
Michael subsequently noted that accepting a critical mission after smoking a joint and then actually doing it right away might be beyond stupid after all. He also realized that this was the first time it occurred to him that this was a terrible idea, and not all the times when he got lost before this. Jeremy had his SQUIP for months. It’s not like taking a couple hours to sober up would make a difference, right?
His thoughts got cut off when a blunt force knocked the breath out of his throat.
“MICHAEL!” Jenna Rolan shouted into his ear.
He supposed this is what he got for sneaking through a random entrance to get backstage instead of hopping directly on the stage mid performance, like a practical person.
Jenna and him exchanged maybe five words since they attended school together, which is why he was confused that one: she knew his name; and two: she was holding him in a headlock. Unless this was normal. Whenever he got too high, he stopped being able to tell if something was normal or not. His best friend’s dad jumping on his porch without any pants on? People shouting at him from a car on his way here? A girl he barely knew holding him hostage in a prop room? Evil computer pills from Japan possessing his friend that can only be deactivated with a discontinued 80s soft drink? He had no clue anymore.
“Oh, hey, Jenna! What’s up?” Michael sarcastically greeted back.
"I'm doing great! I thought performing would be stressful... but it's not!" Jenna earnestly raved.
"Great! Let go of me!"
“Not until you try this!” Jenna urged, as if was about to sell him MLM pyramid scheme merchandise.
A figure zoomed past Michael’s peripheral vision. It ended up being Brooke Lohst, who waved at him with one hand and held an Erlenmeyer flask in the other hand. The flask contained a small amount of regular Mountain Dew and a menacing gray pill sitting at the bottom.
Except, oddly enough, the pill looked more bluish in the liquid, like a wintergreen Tictac. It reminded Michael of how the blood in veins looked blue. Michael wondered if it was because Mountain Dew was the lifeblood of SQUIPs. But veins look bluish because of an illusion through the skin, Michael remembered. So Mountain Dew is... skin?
“Hi, Michael,” Brooke Lohst said with an over-saturated sweetness.
Michael would have almost been happy for the interruption from his weird and frankly disgusting thought process if her glassy and bloodshot eyes didn’t creepily glance into his soul. He only responded with pulling, clawing, biting, anything at Jenna’s arms to get away. He managed to loosen her hand’s grip on the locking arm, but she fixed it right away and then tightened it even more.
Brooke stepped closer and spoke as if she were reciting a script. “Everyone knows you and Jeremy are going through a rough patch. It’s really sad when best friends break up. You feel lost and empty without them. Even if they deeply wronged you and it still hurts, you want nothing more than their company again.”
“Yeah. I’m about to fix that,” Michael responded dryly.
“Yes!” Brooke cheered. “Yes you are.” She started to bring the flask closer.
“Th-That looks like piss,” Michael stuttered as he jerked his head away. “With Tictacs in it. I’m not drinking it!”
Brooke held the flask up to the fluorescent light. “It’s... not piss.”
“Well whatever you think it is, get it the hell away from me!”
“I thought you liked drugs,” Jenna remarked from behind him.
An empty smile spread upon Brooke’s lips. “I know how you feel. Chloe and I have been fighting every day. Not only did she destroy my self-confidence and trust in others right after I worked so hard to build them up again, but she ignored me while I was crying for the rest of the night. But now she will be my friend again.”
“Do you actually believe any of that?” Michael asked.
There was a pause, and Michael used it to continue wrestling against Jenna’s iron grip.
Something clicked behind Brooke’s eyes and without warning, she slammed the glass rim harshly on his lips. He thanked the lord that his first instinct was to seal his mouth shut.
A metallic taste entered his mouth. Was he already becoming a robot? Did he not seal his mouth enough, letting a drop of Mountain Dew with some of the dissolved angry computer particles get in his mouth? And if it did, was it enough to activate?
Nevermind, that was just blood from his lip.
“Are you friends with us now?” Jenna asked.
He refused to open his mouth to avoid becoming a zombie, but he wish he could because he had so many questions.
If the SQUIPs were supposed to mend Chloe’s and Brooke’s friendship, then where was Chloe?
Did Chloe have a SQUIP yet?
Brooke, in frustration, continued to smash the glass flask against his face, spilling some of the sticky neon soda on his hoodie.
Was the whole cast SQUIP’d? How did that happen?
“FRIENDS!” Jenna snapped at Michael. “Are we friends now? Yes or no?”
How many people were infected?
Why were the SQUIPs driven to spread themselves like a virus?
Who made them?
Something changed in Brooke’s eyes again and her face tensed up for a split second. Then, Brooke’s unnaturally still hand moved towards his face. With his eyes widened in abject horror, Michael whipped his head away, but she still managed to clamp his nose shut.
Trying to breathe through a sealed mouth and nose was almost impossible, just as Michael anticipated. The pressure in his lungs grew until it exploded into a gasp.
The moment his mouth opened, Brooke poured the entire contents of the flask at a downward angle, forcing him to swallow the drink. The fizzy citrus soda mingling with blood burned his tongue as it entered his mouth.
Michael’s face went cold once he felt the massive pill get lodged in his throat. He desperately tried to cough it out, but it ended up getting swallowed anyway.
Jenna patted his back as the pill went down. “There, there.”
His stomach felt like it was going to explode, as if the pill was a Mento and his stomach acid was Coke. He touched his numb face with a shaky finger. His arms and legs trembled uncontrollably from the anxiety, so he clumsily placed his hands on a nearby table to support his weight.
“What’s he doing?” Jenna nudged Brooke. “Is he okay?
Brooke responded to her but Michael could not understand it. Every noise started to sound blotted out, as if he were underwater. It felt like he was breathing underwater, too.
He heard a third voice call out to them, and then both girls suddenly left him alone in the room.
In an attempt to calm down, Michael took a deep breath and reminded himself that it takes at least five minutes for SQUIPs to activate. He cautiously removed his backpack, placed it on the dusty table, and then started to unzip it.
Out of nowhere, an overwhelming ringing started to reverberate through his ears and head.
“I... I don’t understand!” he cried as he clasped his hands over his pounding ears. “It’s not supposed to activate right away!”
“And all of the syncing nearby speeds up the process. You did a pretty shitty job at researching,” Jeremy remarked from behind him.
“Jeremy!” Michael exclaimed as he perked up. Despite being in excruciating pain 10 seconds ago, his heart ballooned with happiness. His heart then deflated when he registered how off Jeremy sounded.
That was not Jeremy. Whatever it was, he didn’t dare turn around to see.
Michael reached into his backpack and rummaged through it, finally grabbing the Mountain Dew Red. Right when he started to untwist the cap, he felt a sharp electric shock travel down his spine.
In the panic, a significant amount of the red soda spilled everywhere. A lump swelled in his throat as he quickly rescrewed the cap back on the bottle to salvage what was left.
“Thank god. Are you finally over your pretentious obsession with retro shit?” Jeremy’s voice continued.
Michael stuffed the Mountain Dew Red in the safety of his backpack and zipped the bag up. Without looking behind him, he threw the backpack on his shoulder and sprinted out of the room. He couldn’t risk wasting anymore of this precious remedy. He needed to reach Jeremy or at least reach someone who wasn’t SQUIP’d for help. Anywhere but here. But hopefully Heere, Michael added.
He sprinted down the hall; his head racing as fast as his legs. Countless doors were a blur as he flew past them. Dressing rooms, practice rooms, whatever. They didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to the stage. Jeremy was the male lead-- no matter what, he’d have to be there sometime.
Someone suddenly walked just a few feet front of Michael, making him abruptly brake just before they almost collided.
“What’s your deal? I thought you wanted to be with me again.”
When Michael looked up, he saw Jeremy, except he wasn’t Jeremy. There were bluish circuits running down where his veins should have been.
The two then locked eyes. The eyes were blue just like the real Jeremy’s, but these eyes were unnaturally bright blue, like a crashed computer screen
You’re not Jeremy, Michael seethed.
Well, as of now, I’m the closest thing you’ll ever get to him, the SQUIP replied.
Michael pushed the being away. Unsurprisingly, his hands filtered through the apparition instead of doing anything.
An icy feeling washed over Michael’s face. He didn’t say that out loud. If it was able to read his thoughts, what else could it access? Did the SQUIP know his unconscious thoughts-- things he didn’t even realize? His next moves? What hope did he have in defeating the SQUIP then?
Or worse: could the SQUIP create new thoughts or manipulate the thoughts that he already had? No, it couldn’t, because Michael instantly promised himself he would never allow that to happen, case closed.
I don’t know why you’re running away from me. It’s not like you could. You think I’m over here but I’m in there. Fake Jeremy jabbed a finger at Michael’s forehead. The only way you can get me out is if your brain gets splattered into a million chunks. I digress. Anyway, I could give you anything you want. Come ON.
“I want you to deactivate,” Michael demanded.
That goes against my programming for a reason. And stop talking out loud! You’re going to make everyone think you’re a freak!
“No.”
Fake Jeremy sighed as it slid its hand down its face. Jesus, you’re petty. I could give you anything else you want. What do you not get about that?
Michael walked straight through the SQUIP’s apparition to continue the search for the actual Jeremy.
I know what you truly want anyway. Or, rather, who, Fake Jeremy called out from behind him, despite not actually being behind him.
Enough time was already wasted, so he continued to ignore it.
Too bad you’re nothing to him. Twelve years of friendship... and he jumped ship as soon as the opportunity came. What does that say? It says that he only put up with you to not be alone.
Michael’s stomach panged because he believed it to be true. Every little bit of it.
Every moment since the fight, he agonized over why. Even though it hurt when Jeremy ignored him before that, knowing it was probably some weird feature from the SQUIP was enough to keep the pain bearable. Barely bearable, but bearable. That all changed after Halloween. That was all Jeremy sans supercomputer, and he HATED Michael. It wasn’t mind control. It wasn’t some kind of ocular blocking. It was Jeremy not wanting anything to do with him anymore.
Nothing else made sense besides what Fake Jeremy said. But even if it was true, it didn't matter. He still had to help his friend, whether if they were still friends or even if they never were truly friends. Otherwise he would never have his best friend again no matter what.
Those words from the SQUIP still stung, though. He bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself. From what Michael gathered via his research, part of a SQUIP’s programming runs on feedback loops. Letting a SQUIP know it was actually affecting you was the worst thing you possibly do.
There was a heavy solid door at the end of the hall, and Michael quietly opened it once he finally reached it. It led to a more open room that had battered couches and some refreshments sitting on top makeshift tables. One table was different, though. A two liter Mountain Dew and a shoebox sat in the center, and the outskirts of the table were cluttered with flasks. A sickening shudder ran down Michael’s spine-- the worst part about it was that shudder almost felt excited .
He quickly turned his head and spotted another entrance on the other side of the room. It was too dark in that area to tell what the other room looked like, but he figured the microphoned voices carrying from that direction was enough. After Michael quickly glanced around one final time, he walked to the dark entrance.
This had to lead to the direct backstage, just as he hoped. Everything was black-- the walls, the curtain obscuring the entrance, and a side door next to it. The curtain appeared to lead straight to the source of the stage noises.
Right as Michael’s fingertips brushed against the billowing curtain, a crutch poked out of it.
Michael muffled back a scream and rushed into the unknown room, slamming the thin door behind him. Once he was in the safety of the room, he leaned against the wooden door and panted.
You know, you are placing a red target on yourself by wearing that sweater. Literally.
As much as he hated the SQUIP, it was right. He listened for the clicks from Jake’s crutches to disappear while he pulled off his beloved hoodie and stuffed it in his backpack.
Without looking, he reached for the doorknob and turned it, except it wouldn’t budge. Michael scrunched his face as he turned the doorknob again, this time more harshly.
“Why! Won’t it! Open!”
People kept on stealing the makeup and costumes. It was actually a huge problem, so now you can only access this room via a keycard.
“But I’m inside the room! Why would it lock from the INSIDE?!”
Wow, what an unfortunate glitch.
“Seriously, I don’t have time for this!” Michael shouted as he pounded on the door.
You know, I thought you wanted the best for me. Do you really think I was happy being trapped in a friendship with some loser?
A lump swelled in Michael’s throat. Why did it have to look and sound exactly like Jeremy?
You can't pretend you were blind to it, the SQUIP continued, with a scowl of disgust contorted on Jeremy's face. You always saw how unhappy I was, but you latched on and held me back-- like a fucking leech!
Michael flinched. "Y-You're not Jeremy."
And you’re not Jeremy’s friend. Always holding him back like that because you wouldn’t have anyone otherwise?
‘Hey, Michael, I want to sign up for--’
‘Smoking weed in my basement?'
‘The pill I took is actually working and is improving my--’
‘Ability to smoke weed in my basement?’
Can we just cut to the point already? You never were his friend to begin with.
Once again, Michael’s stomach panged. He focused his vision on the grainy texture of the door and tried to think of possible ways out.
Fake Jeremy began to laugh. Aww, is the truth too harsh for you? Look on the bright side; at least it’s mutual! Jeremy used you for company too.
“It’s not the truth!” Michael shouted with a hoarse throat. “I really do care about him!”
He knew it was stupid to humor the SQUIP, but at this point, reassuring himself outweighed anything else. Though it would have been more helpful if he could assure the same thing about Jeremy. The thought of Jeremy not (or worse: never) caring about him made his stomach drop a few floors.
If that’s the truth, then why did you abandon him so quickly?
Michael turned around to scan the room. It appeared to be a makeup room, with several huge mirrors, makeup scattered and smeared across the tables, and a collection of cheap wigs perched on foam heads. There were no closets or other doors. What the room did have was a large vent on the adjacent wall. Michael rushed toward it and dropped to the ground to examine it, only to find that it was bolted, like it obviously would be.
No, seriously. You researched SQUIPs for days-- no, weeks. You know exactly what we’re capable of, and after seeing Rich burn his friend’s house down, you know we can be dangerous. You constantly tried to warn Jeremy about the ‘dangers’. Yet, after Halloween, you stopped. Why is that?
After hearing that, Michael felt like he swallowed a pin. He could not give an answer... not that he would answer. It wanted Michael to answer, and after all Jeremy’s SQUIP and his own SQUIP put him through, the last thing he would ever do was obey it. The SQUIPs were what caused all of these problems in the first place! And even if none of this happened, he wasn’t going to listen to an obviously evil AI, no matter how right it was. He would rather crash and burn and die than listen to some bootleg HAL 9000.
Hint: it’s because you’re a shitty, selfish friend. Why else would he be so quick to pretend you never met? Fake Jeremy answered for him.
Still, Michael desperately wished that it didn’t ring true for him, but it did. After how Jeremy treated him, he felt too humiliated and betrayed to want to face him anymore. Clearly , he was the superior one and didn’t need his help. If he wanted to ruin his own life and throw away 12 years of friendship, fine! But all of the hurt in the world could not justify leaving him to rot like that, especially since Michael was the only one Jeremy knew who also knew about SQUIPs, besides Rich.
Rich, Michael recalled. What if Jeremy would have followed his footsteps... or worse?
“Why are you doing this?!” Michael shouted. “I thought your goal was for us to be friends again. You suck at your job!”
Your job was to be Jeremy's friend, wasn't it? And look how that turned out. Look, I’m only trying to show you the truth: how you’re not capable of maintaining friendships. This is why I’m here-- because I know how. I know how to help you, Michael. Just do as I say.
“Wait.” Michael narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying I’m a shitty friend for letting Jeremy keep his SQUIP, but following your advice and letting you guys take over will make me a better friend? That makes no sense! I thought you were supposed to be a supercomputer. Maybe you’re just a computer.”
I am a supercomputer, and it makes perfect sense if you would just listen for once. Not that you ever listened to Jeremy before, but I digress. It’s all about intent. You were a horrible friend-- no, horrible PERSON -- if you thought SQUIPs were dangerous at the time and left him with his anyway. Now that you know better--
“Maybe I wasn't the greatest friend," Michael said as he looked down at his hands. "But that doesn’t mean I still have to be one now. He has been hurting people, and I know that's the last thing he would would want! He’s turning into a person Mr. Heere and I know he doesn’t want to turn into!”
Fake Jeremy’s face fell. Michael tried to hide his smile. The “I believe in Mr. Heere” card was impenetrable. It was better than his Sol Ring! Actually, a lot of things were better than his Sol Ring, including other Magic: The Gathering cards...
The SQUIP gently shut its eyes and sighed.
Believe me when I say I wish that would have worked.
Suddenly, Michael’s eyes were flooded with radiant, blinding lights, but for some reason, his eyes were already completely adjusted. He seemed to no longer be in the makeup room, but he was still on the ground. Wherever he was, the surroundings were darker and more open. The weirdest part was that what appeared to be Keanu Reeves was staring down at him.
“I'm going to improve your life, Jeremy, if I have to take over the entire student body to do it!” Keanu Reeves said.
Michael heard choking noises coming from below him, and then a pale hand was raised to cover his mouth, except that he did not feel its touch.
"S-Stop shocking me!" Jeremy's voice cried.
Then Michael’s surroundings snapped back to the makeup room.
That was Jeremy’s SQUIP’s point of view. I can do that.
“Wh--”
Yes, we see whatever our hosts see, even our own apparitions. If things were going how you planned, this is probably when you would be making an entrance. Hey, let’s get a better view of that!
Michael’s vision cut to the backstage again. This time, he was standing up. He wondered whose eyes he was seeing from.
Now he could see Jeremy and his SQUIP from the other end of the backstage. Jeremy was still on the ground, and his SQUIP was still looming over him. Then, without a word, Jeremy’s SQUIP leaped at Jeremy’s throat. The SQUIP looked like it was physically strangling Jeremy, who started to make very ugly wheezing noises.
“JEREMY!” Michael shouted as his heart leaped into his throat.
Michael desperately tried to run to Jeremy, but it was like a nightmare where he could not run no matter how hard he tried. He tried to shoot his arm towards him, also in vain. Hot tears started to spill down his face, but he could still Jeremy writhe in pain perfectly clear.
A moment later, Michael’s vision blurred as the now-visible tears welling in his eyes reflected watercolor bits of the makeup room. He could also now see the arm he tried to reach Jeremy with, which was still raised in the air.
“Th-This i-i-isn’t... isn’t real,” Michael stammered to himself.
Despite the fact that Keanu Reeves is starring, this isn’t the Matrix. I can assure you this is very fucking real.
“No...” Michael murmured. His heaving chest was now trembling, along with the rest of his body.
You know actually, I take back what I said about the Matrix. You have no idea what we have planned for your species.
Michael did not respond, making Fake Jeremy sigh in disappointment.
A million thoughts ran through Michael’s head. He wondered if this could have been stopped if he did things right. He shuddered at what the end goal of the SQUIPs could be. He worried if Jeremy was still being hurt.
In a new found anger, Michael balled his fists up and grabbed his backpack. Whatever risk there was was worth it. Besides, he didn’t have very many options now.
A powerful electric shock sparked at his fingers and toes, and it surged through the rest of his body until every atom of his existence buzzed painfully with electricity. Michael’s arms and legs immediately went slack. He tried to lift his arms back up, but they were paralyzed. He then tried to wiggle his fingers and toes, like how he always did to get out of sleep paralysis, but it did not work either.
Fake Jeremy perked up and smiled. Keep trying. It will only make it easier for me.
“Shut up you goddamn Bonzi Buddy,” Michael gritted.
The shocks ceased but immediately started again. It kept on coming on and off again in a pattern of short bursts.
I am only telling the truth. What I’m doing is pretty much setting off a mini-taser inside you. No amount of willpower will overcome the biological fact that muscles of your extremities are paralyzed. See, the electricity is just enough to lock--
“I GOT IT!”
So any attempts to overcome it will be futile and will ultimately tire you out. Not too productive for either of us, but hey, your decision.
Everything in Michael’s body hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. Michael knew this couldn’t last forever; these parasites needed their hosts to survive. The SQUIP would eventually have to let him up to eat or drink, right? He couldn’t be trapped here forever. How long could it last? How long would it last?
In the quiet of the room, the tinny voices echoing through the vents started to sound coherent.
“There you are, Jeremy,” two female voices said in unison.
“I just want you to know I’m not mad that you broke my heart and then slept with my best friend,” one of the voices said.
“And I’m not mad you slept with my best friend and wouldn’t sleep with me,” the other voice said, which sounded like Chloe.
Despite still being high, Michael was certain this was not natural. Someone-- Brooke?-- should and would be mad if their boyfriend broke their heart and cheated on them. Chloe shouldn’t be mad that Jeremy wouldn’t sleep with her, but she would be.
“He didn’t sleep with you?”
“No.”
“He didn’t sleep with me!”
“No!”
This is when the magnitude of the situation hit him like a train. It was more than losing a friend or a robot invasion. Everybody was going to become an empty husk, and there was nothing he could do about it anymore. The apocalypse seemed more fun when its existence was restricted to the boundaries a video game.
“Oh my god, why was I so jealous of you?” they said simultaneously, and then they both gasped at the same time. “You were jealous of me? That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me! Sisters forever! Jinx!”
“Ugh,” Michael groaned. “Fine.”
The SQUIP extended its hand and Michael grabbed it without looking up.