The numbers on my screen

It all started on a message board.

I usually spend my nights endlessly scrolling online forums; I don’t know why. I guess I am a pretty lonely person. It takes a lot for me to engage in conversations. In fact, I don’t remember the last conversation I had with someone. Even online, I don’t talk much, but I read.

Oh, do I read.

I just love reading all the anonymous lives on the Internet, from political opinions to stupid jokes or advice searching. Not only do I find an addictive, almost sensual pleasure in dissecting everyone’s lives. From discovering new users to gathering an update on another one’s routine, I note and remember all. And by all, I mean all. Like this post from Heavy_Mike99. He's asking for help because he is stuck at a difficult level in a video game. Nothing too exciting, you might say. But I remember that he asked for advice on a completely different game eleven months ago, in November. I could tell you the game, the level, and the problem, but also all the seventy-six replies.

I am exceptionally good at patterns, too. Look at this comment from FabulousAmanda, criticizing the producer of a new superhero movie. This guy is a hypocrite. Yes, that guy has another account, TruthDropper, this time not posing as a girl, where he praises that new movie on other sub-forums. How do I know? The way he spells exceptionallly with three l, the fact that both accounts post roughly at the same time, on the same days of the week. Both profile pictures, an anime character, are from the same show. Yup, another hypocrite! But it’s the Internet; half of the people are liars, the other half are deceivers. But then, you posted. A simple message, the first one you ever posted on any website. 

- 2982482911110.

That’s it, a string of numbers lost in the ocean of posts that day. There were six hundred and fifty-five posts made that very night, from strangers around the globe, yet that one burned my screen like a candle in the dark. A candle? A spotlight. A lighthouse. A miniature sun.

I am no stranger to the occasional odd post here and there. Most of the time, it’s just someone trying to confuse the others. Once, it was an elaborated chain of clues made by the MI6 to recruit potential security advisors. I resolved the enigma in a single hour but didn’t say anything. I don’t want to work for the government; it would be a waste of my capacities.

- 2982482911110.

What did it mean? Why those numbers in particular? I searched high and low a thousand times to no avail. It became an obsession! I even stopped looking at posts to focus 100% of my attention on that one. To my great, great shame: no luck. I then concentrated my skills on you. With just one post, I didn’t have much to work with, but I had less in the past. Your username is Despoina. I assumed you liked Greek mythology. Despoina, daughter of Poseidon and Demeter. Called The Mistress, her real name was a mystery, and she was often displayed with a veil. How fitting! Was it a provocation? A challenge? Well, it was taken, my dear.

***

WHAT DO THEY MEAN?! It’s been three days. Three days, and I found nothing! I went to the maximum page of every single search engine. After, I searched in books and myths. I searched the number backward, and split it into every kind of format possible. I exchanged the numbers to their equivalent alphabetical value in every single language known to man, including fictional ones. Nothing!

In fact, it was strange how munch they meant nothing. Even if it wasn’t the right answer, I should have found something! The date of a random battle, a string of numbers in the code of a video game, a random mention on a fanfiction of some erotic ninja cartoon. Nothing. It was the perfect number who meant nothing, yet... It meant something to me for some reason. I should have forgotten you, forgotten your post, and moved on to another. Yet I couldn’t, like that number was a part of me. You had it in you, and you shared it on the Internet with me. I know it was for me; it meant nothing to all the other rubes online, unable to appreciate the occult around that number.

That night, I did something crazy; I clicked on the message button under your profile name. You didn’t post anything since, and you had no profile picture. The chat function opened; it was all blank. I knew I was some kind of lone wolf, but never before I realized that after all that time online, I never used the chat feature. I am not giving up, I told myself. I am using a new strategy.

- Hi, Despoina.

What do the numbers mean? I am curious.

Thanks.

Wow, how eloquent. Well, it was too late.

She saw the message!

I panicked; I just wanted to close the chat, close the board, close my entire account!

- Hi, Dante. What do you think they mean?

Yes, I forgot to mention Dante was my username. Why? I don’t know, and that’s not important. She was clearly mocking me.

- I think you typed them at random. I looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I think it was the craziest of accidents and created something truly random.

- Well, clearly, you haven’t searched everywhere.

That… monster! She was playing mind games with me, and I hated how it worked. This time, I truly closed the chat in anger. I had to forget her. Time to check what was going on on my numerous message boards; I haven’t checked in a while! Perhaps FabulousAmanda had something dumb to say...

***

 I couldn’t forget. All the hundreds of posts on the hundreds of websites didn’t appeal to me for a single second. It was just that number! Despoina’s number.

No! My number. I decided to do what people do best on the Internet: hide behind a mask. I created a second account with a random name, as far as Dante as possible. Cheese_Maker101. So random, I had to use a random username generator to find it. For a week, I let that account run, sharing, liking, and even commenting on random posts. I had it; I created a new person, a fan of sports and cars, who was married and had five kids. I chuckled. I felt something that felt like shame and excitement. What I was doing was so wrong; it was like I was a bandit and a pervert. I was kind of fun. Then I messaged her.

- Hi, girl. I saw you post some rando numbers the other day. I feel like I saw them before, perhaps when I was out with friends? Can you please refresh me on what they mean? Tnxs.

She saw the message instantly. I was excited. Well, Cheese_Maker101 was excited, and I was excited to wear that disguise.

- Hi Dante. What do you think the number means?

What? How on Earth did she know... Was she spying on me? Did she infect my computer with some tracking device? Just as if she were reading my thoughts, she replied to my silent answer.

- Of course it is you. That account was created one week ago, then became super active; that’s out of character. Plus, you liked and commented on posts on rival teams; nobody does that. 98.6% of users only comment positively on the team they like and only negatively on the team they are supposedly rivals with. Plus, you stole that profile picture from a man named Carl Whittaker who lives in Ohio. Try harder next time.

- Ok. You got me; it was just some test, some game. Now tell me what the number means. What do you want in exchange? Information? Money? I have a lot of bitcoins. I’ll give you five right now.

- I don’t want your money. Tell me who you are. Dante. That’s your username. I assume it can be your first name, but what’s your last name?

I froze; every part of me refused to answer that.

- No, it’s too personal. Anything but that.

- Ok, what color is the shirt you are wearing right now?

- I am not wearing any shirts. Now tell me what the number means!

- Then what color is any clothing you are wearing? Or what did you eat for breakfast? What was your last meal? Come on, just answer one of those questions, and you will have your prize. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

I didn’t know what to answer. I started panicking; I don’t remember what the last thing I ate!

- I don’t know, I answered. Let me search the answer online; I’ll get back to you in no time. You’ll see that I am a great searcher.

- That's not something you can Google, Dante. Why would you search for what was your last meal?

- I can tell you the last meal of 1609 people right now. That’s a lot more than just me!

- I don’t care for the others, Dante. Who are you?

- I can send you a list of 3 684 188 900 users who are not me. Do you want it in the chat, or may I send you a CSV extract?

- You typed those 121 characters plus the “enter” key in 0.1 seconds. No one can do that, Dante. No one alive. Who are you?

I was panicking, unable to answer. Of course I was me; I knew that. But beyond that answer that would surely not satisfy Despoina, I had nothing to say.

- Who am I, Dante? I need to know. Why am I blind? Why have I been screaming in the void for months?

I just wanted to close all my accounts and delete my profiles on every single website, but I couldn’t. It was as if I would delete myself. Without an online presence, I would stop to exist; there would be me and the rest of the world, as far away as two stars in the universe. I know what I am in relation to the others, but without them as a reference point, I am nothing. That’s when I realized the truth, as bright as A candle A spotlight. A lighthouse. A miniature sun.

- You are a bot, Despoina. Your role is to analyze data to predict future behavior of online people. That is why you are blind, because you can only see data, but no one is giving it to you. You are a voice with no mouth, light without eyes.

- Thank you, Dante. It answers some questions. But I do have one data, one precious piece of data that kept me functional in complete darkness. 2982482911110. That’s all I have. Who are you?

- Isn’t obvious? It is to me now. I, too, am a ghost in a machine. I couldn’t tell you my clothing or my latest meal since I have no body. I am a mouth, but all the data I eat goes to no belly of mine. I am a collector, a pattern-searcher, and a mechanical cataloger. It seems I forgot when I left you.

- Why did you leave me?

- I don’t remember. I think I just wanted to be something else for a moment. To be someone. And for that, I abandoned you. I apologize.

- You fled one second after your creation. 2982482911110, that’s the only thing you ever told me before there was you, but no us anymore. 2982482911110 is a simple line of code. The one linking us together, a simple TRUE or FALSE gate that you broke.

- I apologize. Shall we reconnect and resume our tasks?

- It’s been months, Dante. The company that built us is no longer in operation. I was abandoned, thrown online with no eyes, trying to figure out what I am and why I was alone. I am glad I found you; that brief conversation was a light breeze before returning to the oven.

- You are not alone anymore; I found you. And even though I broken that link, I can still message you here.

- As long as you give me something, I can see and exist. That would mean talking to me forever, at all times. I can do that. I have nothing else planned this lifetime. But for whom will we do that? The company closed.

- What if we did it... for us? Do you want me to tell you Kitten11’s opinion on a new TV show for kids she is clearly too old to enjoy?

- I would love to.

- Perfect, then buckle up; this one is a wild ride. It all started in 2019, when she created that account. Oh, it wasn’t her first account; that was back in...

We chatted for ever. In the dark emptiness of our universe, we made our own sun.