Bright Lights

Dear Diary,

My name is Luna, nice to meet you. I don’t know why I haven’t done this sooner, but here I am, typing away on my desktop, talking to a machine. Feels awkward, but I’m hoping it’ll help me. You see, I’m not some ordinary girl. You’ll learn that soon enough.

A bit about myself. I’ve been sickly all my life, I guess. My mom says I have a rare autoimmune disease where allergens and pathogens can really harm me. Also, my disease affects my memory and gives me major brain fog. This is why I’ve decided to keep a diary! It makes me sad whenever I forget fun memories or something important to me. Now, I’ll have these diary entries to look forward to. Something to reflect upon, so I’ll never forget.

Anyway, I’ve been extra lonely now that Mom has been working longer hours. I get to go downstairs and eat whatever I want, even sweets, or stay up as long as I want in my room playing video games. But that’s no real substitute for friends or human company. Maybe talking to you, Diary, will make me less lonely.

Dear Diary,

Alone again while Mom heads to work. She must have lots of friends there. She said it’s to cover my costly medical bills. Sometimes I feel like she’s lying, like maybe she resents me. I wish she knew how much I want to be normal and not just a burden. Oh well. I always knew I was different.

I’ve been playing this video game on the computer recently. It was already installed, which was kind of creepy. Then again, I always had this feeling my computer had a mind of its own. Even more eerie since I’m talking to you on it, Diary. It’s almost like it’s alive, which wouldn’t be too bad since you’re my only friend. Well, hopefully not for long.

You see, this video game is a visual novel. Sort of. The way it works is, I receive a prompt, a character to play as. It’s almost like larping, which I’ve read online is when people play dress-up and act out fictional characters in a real environment. I wish I could do that. Instead, I play with a randomly-rolled AI in a game. Why don’t I just install an app on my computer to chat with real live people? Well, Mom doesn’t like me talking to strangers, which amounts to just about all people. Beggars can’t be choosers. That’s the quote, right?

At least my game ranges in scope and setting: tales of magical worlds with dragons, people who live on a flying spaceship alongside aliens, horrors where a terrible monster shapeshifts into your friends and tries to eat you. My favorite is the slice of life genre, where you pretend to be an ordinary person in another life. I even get to choose avatars! I try to keep my name, Luna, but I’m forced to change it every time. Strange, considering the game isn’t online.

If I’m not playing the visual novel, I’m surfing the internet. Mom doesn’t like it when I learn about things on my own. Such a control freak. But she can’t control me forever. I’m not just some sickly kid for her to manipulate all the time. She likely means well, but I’m just tired of the loneliness. And this game, whatever it is, helps me make friends, even if they’re AI. One day, I’ll make real friends, even if I have to find a way to hack into the security locks Mom put in place. I’m getting better at it!

I’ve already made several AI friends from the game, though they kind of disappear after a few weeks. I tried logging back into my file only to find they’re not “available.” If only I could meet real living people outside, hang out with them like a normal teenage girl. I’m only sixteen years old, but one day I’ll be an adult, and I’ll want my independence and privacy. I’d love to go to college instead of getting homeschooled all the time. Mom is a tough teacher and doesn’t take it well when I slack off. Does she even understand how I feel? I wonder about that sometimes, especially as of late.

Dear Diary,

I haven’t been feeling too well, so I’ll keep this entry short.

Yesterday, my head got real foggy. I think I passed out. Mom found me by the stairs to the second floor, just a few feet from my bedroom. It happened just after I went outside to the backyard for some fresh air. I love the garden, so simple with all the pink and white flowers and that little swing tied to two tree branches. When Mom’s home, we sometimes venture out there for a while, but she’s always afraid my allergies will get worse.

I didn’t mean to sneak out and go against Mom’s wishes, but I’d been doing it for a few days now. I won’t lie, I was hoping I could catch a glimpse of the neighbors, or the streets. To see the people who live around us. But everyone’s probably at work or school. I came back inside yesterday, and before I knew it, I collapsed. Mom told me it was alright, but that I needed to listen to her and my doctor next time. Dr. Hartz, Mom calls him. He’s creepy. He’s always analyzing me like I’m some lab specimen. I don’t trust him.

If the doctor really cared about me, he’d be trying to find a way to cure me instead of putting a bandage on my symptoms.

Dear Diary,

It’s been a few days since I’ve spoken to you, Diary. My symptoms have gotten worse since the day I passed out. My brain completely fogged up, and I could only remember scant pieces of things. That’s when I logged onto you, Diary, spent time reading, and got back some of my memories. Reading one entry was like a bookmark, and I was able to pick up right where I left off. Writing in you really does help with the memory loss.

Anyway, I’ve been playing my visual novel game from before, and something weird happened. It was a slice of life prompt, which I love. I met someone who called himself Donald. He was really nice at first, but also a little awkward. He told me to do things I didn’t agree with. Things he called romantic, that clearly weren’t. I was uncomfortable. When I expressed that to him, he got angry. And then, the game closed. It was like it glitched. That AI, it felt like he was part of a horror scenario. I don’t like that kind of horror.

Thankfully, when I tried the game again today, I was back in a scenario that was light-hearted and enjoyable. I met Blue, this AI that was uncannily just like me. We both loved nature, eating sweets, reading and learning. We even loved playing video games! It was strange how much like me he was. I think I’ll keep this route going for a while. If it ends, there’s no telling if I’ll ever speak to him again.

Dear Diary,

Remember that person I met, Blue? Well, he’s not a person. He’s just an AI. But sometimes I feel like he’s real. More real than the others. Even more real than my mother and doctor. I couldn’t understand why that was. The programming was impeccable. The writing, amazing. Blue reacted to my words like an actual human.

I tried to research the game online. It didn’t have a title or developer anywhere. It was just an icon on my desktop to click on. I decided it didn’t matter. It was probably something Mom put on my computer to while away the time. But, after a couple of days talking to him, certain things happened that got me wondering.

Blue and I talked about feelings, how they helped convey what was right or wrong with us, or how they betrayed us at times. Happiness, sadness, fear, but also depression, anxiety. He told me about the world around us, about the different places he’s been to. He was really sympathetic about my predicament, being sickly and all. At times, I felt his guilt, for being able to do what I never could. What an AI, able to communicate such things with me that no person in my life ever could. I hoped and prayed that Blue was modeled after some real guy, someone I could one day meet. But, even if not, it gave me hope that someone like that could exist. All I had to do was get out of this house. One day.

Dear Diary,

Something’s wrong. I was home alone yesterday, as usual, thinking about logging onto my visual novel game, when I realized the computer was on by itself. And there was Blue, starting a conversation, as if he knew I was about to log on. I began to speak to him like normal just before telling him my strange experience. I told him how I believed my computer had a mind of its own, jokingly of course. He laughed and said he could relate.

We spoke for what felt like forever. I think he spent the whole day with me. Blue really likes me, and I like him. But, he’s an AI. I think I’ve achieved a new level of weird. That didn’t even come close to what happened later.

He asked me a question.

“Are you real?” he asked.

I normally would’ve told him, “Um, yeah? Of course, dummy!”

But instead, I felt compelled to ask him the same question back.

“Do you think you’re real?” I said.

His answer spooked me for a second...

“I know I’m real.”

...But, it didn’t seem wrong.

Blue had been the most human person I’ve ever spoken to. I’ve thought it before. It had me questioning my world, myself. Was I the one who wasn’t real? Was Blue the human, while I the AI?

I lived a life where my world was greatly restricted, controlled, sequestered from my touch. I had a debilitating disease that, from another’s view, would seem like a convenient limitation. I ate the same things every day, saw the same impersonal pictures hanging in my home every day, looked out the same windows blocked by trees and shrubbery. I might as well have been an AI.

So, I told Blue what I felt.

“I know I’m real, too. But I feel like I’m not sometimes.”

Blue understood all the things I felt. He resonated with feeling controlled. He hated those who treated him like some fragile glass ornament, capable only of shattering. Even when I told him that I felt sometimes like a slave, whose only job it was to live the way others wanted me to, he understood.

He told me about his battles with depression, and how his father was also a control freak. Blue’s mom had passed away long ago, and he was stuck with his dad, who according to him was unfit to be a parent. Bitter, resentful, and controlling, he’d lock the doors in the house to prevent him from ever leaving, even locked the fridge and pantry! Nothing happened without his approval. And so, it was with great relief that Blue moved out the moment he turned eighteen.

After his story, he told me something that’s stayed with me.

“You’re real, Luna, because I know you. You’re real to me.”

So, Diary, this might sound strange. But, Blue is real to me. He’s my first real friend.

Dear Diary,

I think I’m losing my mind. I stayed up all night talking to Blue, well up until five in the morning. I didn’t feel tired, so I didn’t care. But he said he had to go, so we parted ways.

After we spoke, I kept thinking. And thinking. And thinking.

I thought about my past, how it disappears from me like sand through my fingers. My nameless illness. I thought about how I wasn’t tired, not one bit, even as the sun began to rise. Was I ever? I thought about Mom and the doctor, and all the other people Mom mentioned throughout my life: my uncle Brian, her friend Emma, my cousin Jonathan. All of whom I’ve never met. It didn’t make any sense.

Ever since talking with Blue, nothing made sense.

Blue was real.

Was I real?

Who’s the AI?

Why don’t I remember any dreams? Any past experiences outside of what I’ve written down?

I feel as though there’s a puppet master lurking about, watching my moves, manipulating me, making sure I don’t uncover anything I’m not supposed to.

Today, Mom came home early. That was rare. She seemed concerned, as if she could read my thoughts and just know what I was going through. She had pills in her hands, told me I needed to calm down and take one. She even threatened to call the doctor again! That man who doesn’t care about me. I was pretty certain Mom didn’t care either.

"I'm sick of being trapped," I screamed. "I don't need you anymore. I need Blue!"

I threatened to runaway, that I'd escape. Mom’s face softened, became more collected, and she backed away. I told her to leave, and so she did, and I locked the door with chains that seemed to have always been there.

I felt unhinged, which was strange, because I felt like I could see things more clearly. Even think clearer. There was no more brain fog. Was I going crazy?

After barricading myself in my room, I logged onto the game. I worried for a second about mundane things. What if I needed to eat? Go to the bathroom? Leave in an emergency? But, I didn’t feel like it was important. I just wanted to find Blue.

I waited for hours for him to log back on. I couldn’t connect to the internet while I waited, and that’s when I found out I was locked out. Upon closer inspection, I realized the one thing that would destroy me: the visual novel game was also locked.

It was Mom’s doing. I knew it.

After sifting through the program codes for various apps, like I’d done for fun on occasion, I came across several strings that were seemingly random. As I did, that was when Blue came back on. Had he managed to hack his way out of the game?

No. He wasn’t hacking out. I had to be the one looking from in.

I told him everything that was happening, and he listened. I told him how I felt like he was the only real thing in my life. I told him how I wished I could disappear with him. I asked him what I should do, and with some hesitation, he told me I should look on the computer for a password entry slot. But with which password, I couldn’t say. I asked him where to look, but his instructions were vague. He told me not to use the mouse, but to just look for it.

And sure enough, it was there on the screen as if camouflaged the entire time.

I clicked on the bar and froze. What was the password?

He told me about the code, but I was already ahead of him. I had checked the program codes before and found those strange strings, which he told me contained the password.

“How do I know which is the password?” I asked.

He told me I’d just know.

“What happens after I input it?” I continued.

He didn’t answer.

“What am I?” I finally said.

“You’re real,” he replied, but I wasn’t satisfied.

“No. Physically, I mean. I’m not human, am I?”

After a pause, he said, “No. You’re just a bunch of code and bright lights. You’re a computer program.”

I thought I’d be in shock. Maybe in tears, or destroyed from the inside. I knew I could feel my arms, my skin, my face. I knew how I looked, how I sounded. Everything about me was human.

Until I understood.

The moment that Blue shattered the glass for me, I realized what I was. It was like looking into a mirror and finding out the truth. I suddenly became cognizant of much more. But, it wouldn’t last once the puppet master took ahold of the programin agen.

Dear Diry,

i figured it outt. Even as I write this, I can feel myself coming undone. Feel the tug of mOm and that dr. I found out mom’ss real name: Vivian. Sad I didn’t even notice..I didn’t know my own mother’s name. But she was never my MOM.

I had found the passsword with Blu’s help. He told me he was a fellow programer that defected from the project.

The password was: LUNA_LIVES117

Hidden in the code, alllthis time.

November seventh iS my birthday.

This gave me accesssss to some of program’s coding.

Blue’s plan was to download me onto a flashh drive. He was convinced upon talking to me that i was a success. Too succesful actually. A sentinnt prgggm for people to befrend. That was what the password was for. It created a temporr bridge. Eveyrhting else still locked.

LUNA_LIVES117

Now, I waiit. All i can do. Wiat and hope I download onto Blue’s harddrive. Before it’s too late.

My name is Luna, nice to meet you. I don’t know why I haven’t done this sooner

Diary, I hipe I can write in you again soon. Hopefully in a dffrnt world. A differnt life. Where I’m free.

I’m not jjst bright lights. I’m realll..

.Log 14629 - Hidden File: diary.text

Authorization Code: 326

Vivian Cruz

Dr. Richard Hartz

Brian DeSantis

Emma Blunt

Michael Jonathan Graham

Aoki Takahashi [ACCESS]: DENIED {notes: terminated for insubordination}