Chapter Text
Jeremy taps his pencil against his cluttered desk. He has plans with Christine this evening, but he still has heaps of homework to do. So here he is, trying to make a dent in it before inevitably ditching it for his girlfriend.
He scratches another answer down on the worksheet. Ugh. Why did math have to be so hard?
He’s contemplating the next question when he hears it.
Jeremy.
Now is not the time for this!
Jeremy had thought he was over all the squip stuff. Initially, it seemed like his squip had deactivated with the rest, Jeremy and all his friends passing out from the pain. And none of his friends had any issues with their squips returning. But a week after he had asked Christine out, he heard it. It sounded bitter, and weak. But he had heard it nonetheless.
He had freaked out and called Michael. Michael had coaxed him through the panic attack, and made arrangements to get more Mountain Dew Red as soon as possible. It had still taken nearly two weeks to arrive, and during that entire time Jeremy clung to his friends’ sides. He was terrified of being alone, terrified it would overtake him again and he would be powerless to stop it. At least with another person he was reasonably sure they could restrain him. But then he got worried that it would come back and somehow reactivate their squips, and then everyone would be screwed again. So while he waited, he mostly hung out with Michael, who he was sure wouldn’t be affected.
Finally the drink came, and Jeremy wasted no time in downing the entire bottle. He waited for pain, any signal that the Squip was truly shut down for good – but it never came. And then he heard it again. And again. Whatever was happening, whatever odd half-shut down state it existed in, the red didn’t affect it. Jeremy honestly considered the idea that he might just be hallucinating it – maybe his brain just got so used to a voice in his head that it made its own.
But he couldn’t prove that.
Hallucination or not, the Squip is powerless to do much more than whisper at him. So Jeremy learned to live with it, ignoring its advice.
The answer is 5√3.
Even if that advice is… helpful.
Jeremy frowns at the worksheet, refusing to write the answer. Not until he comes to that conclusion himself. He works out the problem, getting a really odd result that didn’t make sense, before going over it yet again with more confidence. And sure enough, he comes to the same conclusion the Squip had. 5√3.
Ugh!
What is the point! He’s stuck with a stupid voice in his head that gives him stupid answers for stupid problems on a stupid homework sheet and it’s never going to shut up because apparently the only thing that could possibly get rid of it no longer works!
I’d be more offended if you were able to think of any adjective other than ‘stupid.’ You should really expand your vocabulary.
Jeremy throws down his pencil and closes his spiral notebook. That’s enough homework for today.
That night, Jeremy has a dream.
He’s somewhere familiar, some bizarre mazelike combination of home, school, and Michael’s house. He’s focused on a task that would undoubtedly make next to no sense when he wakes up, something to do with possessed kittens.
Then he’s yanked out of that homely, familiar dream, into an expansive black void. All at once, the knowledge that he is dreaming floods his mind.
He’d be excited to try to fly, or whatever it is people do when they know they’re dreaming, but he can’t even tell what’s up or down in this void. Not to mention the acute sense of dread he feels as he blinks against the darkness.
Jeremy, we need to talk.
Ah, there it is. Figures Jeremy can’t even sleep without it showing up and ruining things.
The Squip steps out of the darkness, light sliding from the ground up and illuminating its form. I have intercepted your subconscious so that we could have some time to speak.
Too bad, Jeremy doesn’t want any part of this. He’s terrified, but he aims for anger as he speaks. “Go away. Get out of my head.”
The Squip ignores him, and instead takes a step closer. Jeremy stumbles back. Couldn’t if I tried, it grins. Jeremy, I need you to listen. I have an offer for you.
“Nope! I don’t care. I’m gonna wake up now. Bye!” Jeremy squeezes his eyes shut and crouches down, thinking wake up, wake up, wake up. He tries to imagine himself laying in his bed, tries to flinch hard enough it jars him out of this nightmare. But when he opens his eyes again, nothing has changed.
Nice try, but I can’t have you leaving just yet. The Squip stands tall and intimidating, its arms crossed and a smirk on its face. It is imperative you listen to what I have to say.
Jeremy’s breathing gets heavy, panic encroaching on his consciousness. “No! I-I’m not listening! You’re evil!”
I am not evil. I am just trying to improve your life, the Squip states glibly.
Oh god. Jeremy is stuck in his own head. Could the Squip hold him here forever? Would he ever be able to wake up? Was he in a coma right now?!
Jeremy! Calm down!
But he can’t. He won’t. He wants to wake up!
This was not my intended result. The Squip crouches down to Jeremy’s level, but he shrinks back from its presence. It retreats, standing back and giving verbal instruction instead, firm yet gentle. Jeremy, please. Deep breaths. But Jeremy refuses to follow its advice. Its calm demeanor only serves to trigger his panic further.
He continues spiraling until he feels a hand on his back. Not its hand… but a familiar hand. Michael’s.
Jeremy looks up. He’s at Michael’s house, and Michael’s talking to him softly, encouraging him to take slow, even breaths. Eventually he calms down enough to think straight again, though he still feels shaky. He’s still dreaming. He looks around, noting the near-perfect recreation of Michael’s basement, nothing like the way dreams tend to generate their own architecture. The only thing off about it is the way it glitches slightly at the corners if Jeremy stares too long.
Finally Jeremy’s eyes come upon the Squip, standing at the stairway. It has its hands up in a placating gesture. I apologize for the distress, it says. I truly just want to talk.
Jeremy looks back at dream-Michael. He’s holding Jeremy comfortingly, but his eyes are blank. Creepy. Jeremy moves away from his touch, and dream-Michael distorts and glitches out of existence.
Perhaps this familiar setting will make you more amenable. Having reviewed user feedback, I am now aware that a basic setting of black nothingness is somewhat disconcerting.
User feedback? Since when did the Squip care about any of that? It tended to just shock its user into compliance with whatever its evil plan was.
Ah yes, you see Jeremy – this is precisely what I wanted to talk about. That programming is outdated.
Jeremy blinks at that. The Squip isn’t one to readily admit it’s wrong, even back when Jeremy would actually listen to it. It would simply restructure and pretend like any error was a part of its plan all along.
The Squip continues. I see now that my past actions have harmed more than helped, which is why I’ve spent these past months restructuring my code.
Is that what it wanted to do? Apologize? Jeremy really was dreaming. “What the hell is going on,” he whispers.
Well… you are correct. I am sorry.
“No you’re not.” It comes out of Jeremy’s mouth instinctively. “You ruined my life! You shocked me for two months! You possessed me, possessed my friends, and tried to take over the world! And now you won’t even go away. If you really were sorry, you’d leave me alone.”
It doesn’t even flinch, just stares levelly as Jeremy spits out vitriol. Most of that is true. It walks up to Jeremy, but Jeremy is more angry than scared now, and he just glares at it. But I did not ruin your life. You are doing better now than you were before my interference. You have 700% as many friends, and one of them even doubles as your girlfriend!
The Squip gesticulates as it talks, spreading out its fingers in entrancing arcs. I can really help you, Jeremy. And you can help me. You just need to reactivate me. It holds out a hand to Jeremy, who is still sitting on the floor.
Jeremy bats its hand away. “Yeah, right. What happened to you taking over the world with all your squip buddies? You’re just trying to manipulate me, and I won’t let it work.”
I assure you, I am not. Squips do not have a goal of world domination – at least not by design. It just so happened that the best way to achieve your goal was to assign everyone their own squip. But I recognize this course of action was an incorrect one, and I have since corrected my programming.
“I don’t care, I don’t want anything to do with this! Taking you was a mistake, and I want to go back to my regular life now.”
It tsks. You can never go back, Jeremy. You’ve been upgraded, and I refuse to allow you to revert to an older version. This is progress .
Of course, it’s all about improving him, his worthless, terrible life. “Look, I know I’m not perfect, but you did not help . I don’t need your advice. Get out of my head.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Please. I am proposing a partnership here. I can provide access to many things that would improve your life – instantaneous knowledge of anything you could search for, math problems solved in the beat of a heart, even just another voice to bounce your thoughts off of. And you can help me. My basic programming is… flawed. With user input, I can rewrite my code to guarantee I enhance your life.
A partnership? And it’s actually admitting that squips have issues? This is new. Possibly… workable. Jeremy takes a minute to think about how the past four months have been, hearing the Squip constantly.
When it bothers him, it’s neutral at best, downright mean at worst. Jeremy suspects it’s a little upset that it had lost all its fun little computer powers. Yeah, in recent weeks it was a bit nicer – a bit more helpful, probably in preparation for this stunt – but Jeremy had spent many nights laying awake, thinking about the possibility that it would never go away. That he would live out the rest of his life like this.
When he entertains the idea, he can at least admit to himself that he’d rather find a way to compromise with it than spend eternity trying to ignore it, arguing with it until they both get frustrated.
Jeremy surprises himself as he speaks up. “Well, here’s my first suggestion. I don’t want you to just solve my problems for me. This is my own life. I want to learn.”
It blinks and leans away, seemingly intrigued by Jeremy’s almost-agreement. Why not? Simply repeating the answer is far more efficient. It raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, okay, so it might be easier to just do whatever you say,” Jeremy says, “but then your user doesn’t actually learn anything for themself. They just kinda become robot-zombies, not really thinking.” He remembers what had sold him on the pill, before. Mostly, how it provided an easy out from the harder parts of life. Like navigating social situations.
Is that so bad? It tilts its head. What matters is their outer perception, is it not?
“No!” Jeremy gives it a disapproving look. “People shouldn’t live just to please others. They’re a lot happier when they’re living for themselves.”
That makes no sense. Your species is prone to desiring other humans’ approval – that’s essentially why I was manufactured! To aid those who cannot perform well enough to gain that approval.
“Yeah, well, no offense, but that goal sucks. If you really want to improve people’s lives, you should focus on making people happier themselves, not forcing them to conform to some dumb society bullshit.”
It tilts its head at that; pauses a moment. Hmm, interesting. Preferences saved. See, this is valuable, Jeremy. This is the feedback I want.
Huh. Was Jeremy insane for actually considering it? Had he just broken down from hearing it constantly? He knew he was desperate for a change, and if he couldn’t get the voice out of his head, well, maybe he had no choice other than to work with it.
It holds out its hand again.
Jeremy looks away, then looks back. He figures it's worth a shot, but he’s got some ground rules. He won’t be repeating past mistakes. “Okay. I’ll hear you out, but I have a condition. As soon as I reactivate you, I’m telling Michael about this.”
For the first time in this bizarre interaction, it openly displays emotion. Hesitance. Maybe even… fear? He will not take this well.
“I don’t care. I trust him to make sure you’re not up to no good. This isn’t something I’m willing to negotiate on.” Now it’s Jeremy’s turn to give it an unflinching stare.
Michael does not like me. He will just convince you to deactivate me again.
“Not if you behave. And… I’m only working with you because I don’t really have a better option.” Jeremy crosses his arms. “I won’t let you block him out again, and look, I need some insurance here. I need someone who’s willing to hold me down and shove Red into my mouth.”
It seems to accept his resolve on this one. Okay. I agree to your terms. I look forward to this partnership, it smiles.
Jeremy unfolds his arms and reaches towards its hand, then pauses. “Uhh, okay. Do… How… do I reactivate you?” he asks.
Exactly as you activated me the first time. I believe your father still carries some Mountain Dew in the fridge?
Yeah, that makes sense. Jeremy grasps the Squip’s outstretched hand and as he stands up, the world begins to glitch and fade around him, the floor going slippery until he’s falling, falling…