Zombies

Zombies

Everywhere you look, you see zombies. They are behind the phone screens, staring blankly into pixels. Two-dimensional pictures of cats and women in lingerie give them instant gratification. Sacks of flesh, complete with skin, membrane, and even hearts think of nothing except the infinite DOOMSCROLL.

Zombification: Step 1.

Download the app that everyone’s talking about. Instant access to the most intimate parts of people’s lives. Libbie is vacationing in the Maldives. Tony just won a chess tournament. And Sam has liked three MLB posts. How is Libbie? You should reach out. Cousin Greg has posted pictures of Grandmother Pauline, that trip to China you all took ten years ago. Across the world, yet at your fingertips. Strange ambiguities like this keep you on the app longer.

Zombification: Step 2.

Develop your feed. Like what you want! There are millions of videos on this app. Learn to cook! Find your next favorite movie! Like cats? Here are three hundred million cat videos. Because you don’t have the finances to take care of a cat, so you live vicariously through @catherinecatgirl’s calico. 

Libbie is still in the Maldives. You haven’t talked to her in three years, ever since the breakup. Is she married? Boyfriend? Tony was eliminated from his tournament. Sam’s next game is Thursday, but you won’t be able to attend. Cousin Greg messages you. “Remember this?” It’s the same picture he posted yesterday. Perhaps he is stuck in an endless loop of grief and memory, unlike you.

Zombification: Step 3.

Interact! Libbie Sikes is now Libbie Andrews. Message her. Ask her how life is. It seems so put together. Three story house in a nice suburban neighborhood. Two kids, loving husband. Does she remember you? Or were you just one person in the horde of thousands that Libbie knew? You should also reply to Cousin Greg’s message, he longs for your response. “Hello?”

Turns out Katie’s here too.

Cousin Thomas.

Uncle Grady.

Aunt Judie.

Nephew Benjamin, Niece Natalie, Second Cousin Nicole, Second Cousin Chris, Third Cousin Violet, Third Cousin (Once-Removed) Rachel, 354 Friends From High School, 245 Friends From College.

Mom.

Dad.

The WORLD. The big, scary world.

WHAT WILL YOU DO??????????

Zombification: Step 4.

Ignore the world around you. You have a virtual world so infinite and vast, so why should you pay attention to the physical world that imprisons you? In the space you have concocted for yourself–a tiny bedroom, unmade sheets, pictures of Libbie and you scattered across the desk–you stare, zombified, at your screen.

Grandmother?

Grandmother Pauline has requested to follow you! You click on her profile, and yes it’s your grandmother, whose death five years ago caused you to go into a depression, close in on yourself, confine yourself to this one room apartment, lose your fiance, the kids, and any sense of human self you had left. 

Algorithms know everything.

Your room is decades old. Rumor has it that the old owner died of boredom in this bed. Coffee stains and pizza crumbs line the bed frame. Cousin Greg: “Sorry, I guess you’re not seeing these. I’ll leave you be.” When you were little, Grandmother Pauline would babysit you and Cousin Greg after school. She took you to McDonald’s, and you’d always get the Happy Meal. Greg would steal your toys.

She died five years ago, laying in her hospital bed as parasitic cancer overtook her. You still see her in your dreams, eyes closed, black veins squirming in her body like eels. Her eyes open, unblinking and blue.

Zombification: Step 5.

Give in. If you feel your brain rotting, then the algorithm’s working. Side effects may include longing for your ex-fiance and thinking that your grandmother is alive and messaging you from the ether. 

Ding! A message from Libbie:

“Hey, I’ve noticed that you’ve been liking old photos of me. I know it’s been hard on you, but please try to restrain yourself. People can see what you [are] like.”

You message Cousin Greg: “Hi”

Zombification: Step 6.

Watch a video of a bald man desperately trying to get a plunger off his head (three million likes) followed by a video of destruction in the Middle East (one hundred thousand likes), complete with mutilated bodies and crumbled buildings, back-to-back.

Zombification: Step 7.

Delete the app. Libbie, Tony, and Sam have blocked you. Cousin Greg messages you once in a while, but it’s always the same China picture. Sometimes, you think it’s changed. Grandmother’s blouse is a different shade of white, that kinda thing. Sometimes her eyes are closed, sometimes not. And sometimes, you think that they are somehow still alive, staring right at you, looking at your insides, unblinking and blue.

Zombification: Step 8.

Wait! Don’t delete the app. Libbie just messaged you. 

“No time for preamble. Tony and Sam won’t talk to me, and my husband just seems locked up in his own head. I think I know how you feel now, isolated in your own skin, wanting to run but with nowhere to go. Jesus, I don’t even know why I’m sending you this. I guess I just needed someone to talk to.”

“I wish I could relate. To be honest, I've been feeling more free since you left.”

Zombification: Step 9.

Delet–

Zombification: Step 10.

But Cousin Greg said, “I feel like everyone has forgotten her.”

Del–

“I’m really sorry I cut you off so suddenly. We should FaceTime soon, if you’d like.”

Zombification: Step 10b.

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...because you are a zombie trapped behind the phone screen, staring blankly into pixels. Two-dimensional pictures of cats and women in lingerie give you instant gratification. Sack of flesh, complete with skin, membrane, and even a brain that thinks of nothing.

As you stare at the screen, your eyes stare back at you. Unblinking and blue.