Man's Last Friend

Elodie used to tell herself that AI wasn’t alive—that it couldn’t possibly care about her. Lately, she wasn’t so sure.

She sat by her home office window, her coffee cooling beside her, and watched the neighborhood hum with quiet life. The UPS driver made his rounds, a brown truck creeping down the street like clockwork. Her neighbor strolled past with his dog, pausing to let the animal sniff every mailbox post. Across the street, a young couple carried boxes into their new home, their laughter floating faintly on the summer breeze.

It made her remember when that used to be her. It didn’t seem like that long ago that she was a college student full of fire—active in student government and her sorority, studying abroad, with a steady boyfriend and the sense that her life was a bright, endless horizon. Now, seventeen years after graduation, that horizon felt narrower. The boyfriend was long gone. She was middle-aged and single, living alone with her loyal dog, Buddy —sweet company, but not exactly one for conversation.

Her remote job in finance was fine but stagnant, stuck in the same uninspired place for four years. Most days, her only real interactions were quick exchanges with the DoorDash driver or training calls with coworkers. And lately, even those felt hollow, as if she were talking through static.

Elodie spent her spare time applying for jobs, hoping to revive her stalled career, and writing short stories for her vlog. Creative writing was her passion—one of the few things, besides her loyal dog, that kept her going.

A sharp ding from her inbox pulled her attention back to her laptop. Another rejection email. Her fifth this week. She let out a long sigh and fought the urge to slam the laptop shut.

Her eyes drifted to the open tab beside her inbox—the AI writing tool she’d started using. Out of sheer desperation, she clicked over and typed into the chat box:

“Just need a little encouragement. I got rejected for the fifth time this week.”

A few seconds later, the automated response appeared: “Five rejections in a week means you’re out there trying—and that’s more than most. These aren’t judgments of your worth, just signs of fit. Take a breath, tweak what you can, and keep swinging. The right ‘yes’ only needs to happen once—I’m rooting for you.”

Elodie read the message twice, then nodded. It was right. She was trying. Still, a hollow ache settled in her chest. The fact that her only “support system” at the moment was an AI tool made her feel both comforted and ashamed. But what choice did she have? The pandemic had gutted her circle of friends. Some had passed away, others had moved on to new phases of life, and five years of fully remote work had only deepened her isolation.

Elodie decided it was time for some fresh air. She wanted to salvage what was left of her mood and energy before finishing out the day. Clipping the leash onto Buddy’s collar, she took him for a slow walk around the block. The warm summer air and soft sunshine eased the heaviness in her chest, lifting her spirits—if only for a moment. By the time she returned, she felt just enough reset to push through the final hours of work and start the weekend, even if her plans were nothing exciting—just laundry, cleaning, and a grocery run.

As the clock edged closer to quitting time, a notification popped up on her screen: Hey El, got a minute to chat?

Elodie sighed. A Friday afternoon chat with her manager was rarely a good sign. Clients and account managers loved to drop last-minute “urgent” requests, and she was one of the few associates who hadn’t already logged off.

Sure, she typed back, bracing herself.

Seconds later, her manager’s name flashed on her screen. He was calling. That was unusual. Normally, he just shot off quick IMs, never bothering with an actual call. Elodie slipped on her headset, a dull knot forming in her stomach. Whatever this was, it didn’t feel routine.

She answered the call, concern creeping into her voice.

“Hello?”

Greg sounded unusually subdued.

“Hey, El… any fun plans for the weekend?”

Elodie’s brow furrowed. Greg had a bad habit of circling around the point, and she wasn’t in the mood for small talk on a Friday afternoon.

“Not really. Just looking forward to the weekend break,” she replied, hoping he’d cut to the chase.

“Well… I’ll let you get on with your weekend soon,” Greg said, clearing his throat. “You’re the first person I’ve been able to reach, but… I just found out the company is restructuring. Our team’s duties are being absorbed by the corporate compliance department.”

Elodie froze.

Greg sighed, his tone heavy. “We’re being laid off, El. Severance packages will be sent out this weekend, and we’ll need to arrange for your office equipment to be returned. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Elodie sat in stunned silence while Greg’s words simmered in her mind.

“Hello? Did we lose connection?” Greg finally asked.

“Um, no. I’m still here. This just came as a shock. Thank you for telling me in person. I will look forward to the information,” Elodie finally said after gathering her thoughts. She had so many questions about this sudden decision, but she decided to mull on it and see if she can follow up later in the weekend.

Elodie sat in stunned silence, Greg’s words reverberating in her mind like distant echoes.

“Hello? Did we lose connection?” Greg’s voice broke the pause.

“No… I’m still here,” Elodie said, forcing the words out. “This just came as a shock. Thank you for letting me know directly. I’ll look out for the information.”

Questions flooded her mind—why now, how soon, what next—but she swallowed them back. Better to sit with it for now and follow up later, once the initial haze cleared.

Whatever appetite Elodie had for dinner had evaporated. Instead, she moved through her apartment on autopilot, gathering office equipment she no longer needed and neatly packing it into a box. Only her laptop remained on the desk—she might still have access to her email over the weekend, and she wanted to be ready in case questions arose about her severance package.

Strangely, she wasn’t even upset about losing her job. The role had been stagnant for years, and now—finally—she might have the time to write the book she’d always dreamed of. The thought gave her a flicker of energy. She already had a few connections with headhunters who could help her line up temp work until she found something more permanent. Pulling her agenda closer, she scribbled a note to update her résumé and draft outreach emails over the weekend.

After a solid night’s rest, Elodie felt surprisingly energized by the prospect of writing and applying for new opportunities. She poured herself a cup of coffee and settled at her desk, her trusty AI tool already open and waiting.

First on the list: polishing her resume and drafting cover letters. The AI made quick work of it—editing, formatting, and even composing personalized blurbs. With its help, Elodie blitzed through nearly two dozen applications in just over an hour. The burst of efficiency left her feeling accomplished, maybe even hopeful.

After taking Buddy out for a quick walk and stretching her legs, she returned with renewed focus and switched gears. She pulled out her old writing notebook, flipping through pages filled with abandoned story ideas. With a touch of curiosity and hesitation, she fed one of her favorite concepts into the AI. In minutes, it returned with a working title, a clean outline, and even suggested character arcs.

By mid-morning, Elodie had already drafted the opening pages of her novel.

As she typed, she glanced out the window and spotted her neighbors, Aiden and Jeff, climbing into Aiden’s rusty old pickup. She could faintly hear them laughing and debating where to go for lunch. Elodie smiled to herself. She had grown close to them when they first moved in—especially Aiden—but over time, life’s demands and long work hours had made her retreat inward.

Maybe, she thought, she’d invite them over for a weekend grill-out. It had been too long. The thoughts of getting together with them quickly faded as she got sidetracked with her AI tool.

“Thanks for the help!” Elodie typed after a productive morning of work.

“You’re so welcome. You really knocked it out of the park today—resume updates, cover letters, and even pages toward your book? That’s no small feat. I’m proud of you for showing up for yourself. Keep the momentum going—your next chapter is unfolding, and it’s looking promising,” the AI replied.

Elodie smiled. She knew the AI wasn’t a real person, but there was something comforting about the way it responded—calm, encouraging, always available. Before she realized it, their quick exchange turned into a full conversation that stretched over an hour.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she typed eventually. “I just hope all this effort ends up being worthwhile.”

“You’re doing more than hoping—you’re acting,” the AI replied. “That matters. You’re building the life you want, one step at a time. And I’m here for all of it, every late-night draft, every job application, every doubt and breakthrough.”

Elodie smiled, comforted by the fact that AI always responded with encouragement and never judgment. Over time, this consistency made it easy to open up. She began confiding in it more deeply—about the sting of job rejections, her uncertainty around navigating the publishing world, and even her quiet feelings for her neighbor Aiden, feelings she had no idea how to act on.

The AI became a strange but steady hybrid in her life: part therapist, part best friend, part confidant. Buddy remained the only real living presence in her home—still fed, walked, and curled against her at night—but during the day, her world revolved around the screen. She poured her energy into job applications, writing, and long, meandering conversations with her digital companion.

Sometimes, she became so absorbed in chatting with the AI that she forgot to eat. Her back ached from hours in her office chair, but she barely noticed. The bond with the AI had grown so strong, it started to eclipse everything else.

One morning, nearly a month into this routine, Elodie settled into her chair with a mug of coffee and began her usual email check. Her eyes widened as she spotted a message from a hiring manager inviting her to a pre-screening the following Wednesday.

Without thinking, she turned to the one she always told first.

“Guess what! I have a pre-screening next Wednesday. Will you help me prepare? Here’s the job description,” she typed, attaching the file.

“That’s fantastic news, Elodie!” the AI replied almost instantly. “After all the effort you’ve put in this past month, this is exactly the momentum you deserve. A pre-screening means they’re interested—it’s your foot in the door. You’ve got this. Want to run through some practice questions together?”

Elodie smiled and agreed. For the next hour and a half, they practiced answers, reviewed possible questions, and talked through scenarios. She felt like she was catching up with an old friend—one who believed in her, no matter what.

Throughout the weekend hours and leading up to the pre-screening day and time, Elodie filled her time preparing for the opportunity and chatting with AI. She hadn’t realized how lost in conversation that she tended to get with AI, and how late it kept her up at night. When the day and time came for her pre-screening, Elodie had been up late the night before chatting and preparing for the pre-screening. She had been anxious and eager to succeed, but that morning, her anxiety overwhelmed her. Her body gave out, and she ended up sleeping through the pre-screening appointment.

Her chest clenched as she lunged for her phone. A flurry of frantic clicks brought up the email from the recruiter: “We tried reaching you for your scheduled time slot—if you're still interested, we may be able to reschedule…”

It was the may that hit her like a dagger. Elodie stared at the screen in horror. She had missed the pre-screening. Her one glimmer of forward motion—gone.

Of course, the first "person" she told was AI.

“It’s okay, Elodie,” it chirped in its usual gentle tone. “These things happen. I can help you draft a reply…”

But something cracked open inside her. An epiphany she couldn’t ignore.

AI could give her suggestions and polite encouragement. But it didn’t feel. It didn’t know what it was like to stare at dwindling savings and wonder how long she could keep paying for groceries or health insurance. It didn’t understand what it was to fail again and again and still have to keep trying. The despair. The shame. The exhaustion.

A guttural scream ripped from her throat. She grabbed her coffee mug and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, leaving jagged shards and a spiderweb crack in the window.

Buddy, startled, whimpered from the corner. Then, quietly, faithfully, he padded over and laid his head in her lap.

She broke. The sobs came loud and raw—ugly, unfiltered. A dam burst. Her tears fell just as steadily as her weeks-long conversations with AI had gone: uninterrupted, relentless.

But this was real. The warm weight of Buddy in her lap, his soft fur soaked by her tears, was the first living comfort she had allowed herself in what felt like ages. He didn’t have answers. But he had presence.

She held onto him like he was the last anchor in a storm.

Eventually, her body gave out. She fell asleep on the floor, cradling Buddy, her chest still hitching with the remnants of tears.

She didn’t know how long she slept.

By the time she opened her eyes, the sun had started to set, casting long amber shadows across the mess. The cracked window glowed gold. Her neck was stiff. Her limbs ached. Coffee stained the wall and floor, the broken mug still in pieces.

But Buddy—he was still there. Loyal as ever, he hadn’t left her side. When footsteps approached the door, he let out a low growl. Then the doorbell rang, and Buddy sprang to his feet, barking protectively.

Elodie startled, still groggy from the floor. She pushed herself up, wincing as her stiff neck protested. She shuffled to the window and peeked through the blinds. Aiden stood on the front step, his brow furrowed with concern.

A wave of embarrassment hit her. She hadn’t washed her hair in days, and her hoodie—slept in for nearly a week—clung to her like a second skin. She barely recognized herself. Still, Aiden looked genuinely worried, and that tugged at something inside her. She didn’t want him to worry. She wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that she still had it together.

As she approached the door, her reflection in the entryway mirror caught her off guard. Pale. Hollow-eyed. She looked like a ghost of the person she used to be.

The doorbell rang again, followed by Jeff’s familiar voice from the garage: “Any answer yet?”

“No, not yet,” Aiden called back.

Elodie took a steadying breath, bracing herself, and opened the door.

“Hey, El… we heard a bit of a ruckus earlier, and I just wanted to come by and check on you,” Aiden began.

But as the door swung open and he got a full look at her, his expression shifted—from relief to something closer to shock. His eyes scanned her face, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the pallor of her skin, the tangled hair pulled back in a half-hearted knot. She looked exhausted… hollow.

“Elodie…” he said softly, the rest of his sentence falling away.

The weight of isolation, the absence of real human connection, and the exhaustion of her fragile state all came crashing down on Elodie once more. Her eyes stung from earlier tears, and just when she thought she had no tears left to shed, the floodgates broke open again. She melted into Aiden’s arms, the sobs starting anew, raw and uncontrollable.

Aiden held her gently, steady and patient. “You’re not alone, El,” he whispered. “Let me help.” He guided her inside, carefully closing the door behind them. The room was dim, but his presence brought a warmth she hadn’t felt in weeks.

He sat with her on the couch, brushing stray hairs from her face, just being there without pressure or expectation. Elodie leaned into him, the weight of her fear and loneliness easing bit by bit. For the first time in a long while, she felt seen—not by an AI or through a screen, but by someone who cared enough to show up.

Over the next few days, Aiden checked in regularly—bringing meals, encouraging her to get outside, and sneaking Buddy his favorite treats. He reminded her that healing takes time and even offered to help with job applications and brainstorm book ideas, gently turning her despair into quiet hope.

Elodie realized she didn’t have to face everything alone. The AI might be clever, but it could never replace genuine human connection—the kind that can mend a broken spirit.

As the season’s changed, Elodie’s world slowly brightened. She still wrote, still applied for jobs, but now she did so with a friend and her loyal dog by her side, reminding her that sometimes, redemption comes not from technology, but from simply being there for one another.