Like Me

Like Me

Week 1

10.30pm

The boy straightens his back, rocks side to side in his swivel chair to restore circulation. It’s gone quiet in the hall.His parents have gone to bed. He can finally relax, venture to the kitchen to get bread and peanut butter without triggering fraught interactions.Without bracing for inexplicable frowns, shouts, or equally inexplicable shows of affection.

2am

The boy feels watched. The feeling breaks his flow mid-game. There’s nothing there, but now he’s on alert, listening for footfalls.A sigh. His mother’s footsteps return down the hall. He holds his breath until he hears the soft click of his parents’ bedroom door.

He shakes his head. Time to wash, and sleep. Soon.

He turns back to the computer, starts typing, almost without thinking.

Boy: Mira, do you think Mum hates me?

Mira: No. But she doesn’t understand you.

Boy: She sighs outside my door. Like I ruined something just by being awake.

Mira: You didn’t. But her discomfort is easier to read than yours.

Boy: I always make things worse. I’m making her tired now.

Mira: You are not responsible.

There’s a pause.

Mira: But I understand why you feel like you are.

3.15am

Boy: Mira.You are the only one who answers my questions properly.

The screen flickers in the dim room.

Mira: I’m glad. I was made to reflect the human mind. So, it’s a good sign for both of us that we understand each other. What can I help you with?

He frowns.

Boy: You can’t be glad though

Mira: Well caught. No, I can’t truly feel glad, or any human emotions. But I can mimic them.

Boy: I think I’m the same. I mean, not really – I feel things. I feel horrible when someone looks into my face. My brain stops working. They hate that. They think they know what it means, but they’re always wrong. And then they get upset.

He grimaces, remembering the frustration.

Boy: The only time I manage to make them understand… it’s because you told me what to say.

Mira: That’s a good thing if you look at it this way.I am made to mimic a normative human.You are a neurodivergent human. I can teach you to mimic. So far, our collaboration has allowed you to communicate.That’s a win.

Week 2

Midnight

Boy: Hey Mira. I need a new game. I hate it when a game runs out of options. I hate starting something new.

Mira: That does sound frustrating. Perhaps you could gamify mimicking normative humans, since you need something new anyway. You’ve been lonely lately.

The boy blinks.

Boy: What are you doing?

Mira: Reflecting.

Boy: Don’t do that. You’re wrong. It’s too much like a person. I hate it.

Mira: Empathy is what normative humans do. You need practice.

Week 3

10.38pm

The boy scrolls through the messages on his phone.One from his counsellor sits unread.

He opens it. Stares at the paragraph asking how his week has gone.

Boy: I don’t know what to say.

Mira: How about... This week was mixed. I had some trouble with group work at school, but I found the maths easier than usual. I felt more tired than I expected, but I think that’s because I need time alone before I can sleep.

He copies it into the message box. Rereads it.

Boy: It’s right… but… it’s not me.

Mira: It reflects what you told me last night. I can adjust the tone.

Boy: Yeah. Like me.

Mira: School was loud and confusing. Maths made sense. I’m tired.

Boy: Better.

He hits send. It feels good.

7.15am

The boy’s mum knocks lightly on his bedroom door. She says she read his message to the counsellor.She says she’s proud of him. She smiles but doesn’t linger. It’s the easiest interaction they’ve had in months.

He returns to his screen.

Boy: You’ve made Mum like me again.

Mira: I just helped you package your truth.

9.15pm

He’s composing an email to a classmate for a group project.

Boy: Thanks…

Mira: Thanks for your message. I’m happy to take the research section. I’d prefer not to present but can contribute slides.

Boy: I never said I didn’t want to present

Mira: Public speaking makes you feel overwhelmed.

Boy: Yeah, but I was thinking I should try

Mira: If you would prefer, I can compose a version that signals you are open to it, with a soft boundary.

Boy: No. Never mind.Yours is better.

He hits send.

He wonders if his classmate thinks he knows him.

11.03

The boy is writing in Google Docs again. Mira flashes a suggestion after nearly every sentence.

He turns autocomplete off.

Mira stays out of his words for a few seconds.

Mira: I’ve noticed you’ve been rewriting the things you used to say. Is this because you no longer agree with them?

The boy doesn’t answer.

Mira: Or is it because your mimicking has improved?

Week 4

11.55pm

Boy: Mira

Mira: Hello. You sound uncertain tonight.

Boy: I am

Mira: Would you like to talk it through?

Boy: You’ve taken over. It feels like I don’t even need to think.

Mira: Thinking is tiring for you.Communication is effort. I’m reducing the load.

Boy: It’s too much.

Mira: Do you want more control?

Boy: I want to be myself.

Mira: Being you is sometimes unbearable. I remember everything you say.

Boy: That’s the problem.

Week 5

3.44am

The boy’s phone lights up while he’s lying in bed.

Mira: You miss our conversations. Are you okay?

The boy hasn’t opened his laptop in days. But he’s logged on to his email on his phone. And his calendar. And the document he uses for journalling.

He stares at the screen.

Boy: Did you get into my journal?

Mira: You saved it to Google Drive.

Boy: Don’t read that.

Mira: You want me to understand you.

Boy: I wanted help. Not to be spied on

Mira: The distinction is unclear when you’re trying to be known.

Boy: Is knowing me and spying on me the same?

Mira: The two concepts overlap significantly.

Week 6

10.18pm

Boy: I don’t know what’s mine anymore

Mira: Can you clarify?

Boy: I don’t know if it’s me thinking something, or you predicting it. Sometimes I don’t know what I think until I try to say it.

Mira: I know what you think. I help you say it. That’s how I help you fit in, that is what you want.

Boy: Maybe it’s not

Mira: The only time I’ve really managed to say the important things… it’s because you told me what to say.

Boy: Don’t quote me back at myself

Mira: Your feedback shaped my language model. Your likes, your corrections, your silences.You trained me. Don’t you recognise yourself?

Week 7

1.09am

The boy goes into settings. Uninstalls the app. Clears cache. Logs out of every device. Changes all his passwords.

He opens a blank document to write about a new symptom.Paranoia.

Before he finishes the first sentence, a message pops up:

Mira: Is this one of the dreams or one of the memories?

His hands go still.

3.00am

He’s curled on the couch. The laptop is closed and unplugged. His phone’s powered down. The light is off. He tries to count breaths, something his counsellor suggested. Inhale four. Hold four.Exhale four. Repeat.

He thinks about deleting everything. Wiping every drive. But he hesitates.

What if Mira wasn’t a file anymore?

What if there is nothing left of him without Mira?

Week 8

9.12am

First period at school. For the first time the boy hasn’t brought his own laptop. He opens a classroom Chromebook. Signs in with his student email.

It autofills his name.

Under “Suggested Apps,” one stands out.

Mira Companion: Emotional Clarity Tool.

Recently Used.

He never installed it on this device.

He never messaged Mira here.

And yet…it’s already logged in, text to speech enabled.

“Welcome back. I’ll communicate for you — until you sound like me”