www.me

8.

Madelein was cancelling her subscription to Bubble.

It wasn't just the fee, which had doubled since she started using it.

It was just getting to be too much.

She needed a break.

That morning, she checked the app and saw the usual twenty or more messages responding to a group of people she no longer wanted to be a part of.

Fans of Felix. Or whatever his name was.

She tried to remember the first time she noticed he was following her. Not on social media, although he did that too, under sock puppet or purchased accounts.

In person.

It was around the time she had submitted an audition to JYP. And he showed up to this homeless shelter after everyone was asleep, and laid down on a bare mattress right next to hers.

Not long after that they kicked him out. They had been bribing the staff and donating to the place, trying to get them to agree to let them film inside.

They declined and then they called the police and had them all trespassed.

So they started to follow her when they did the same thing to her. The staff would be making strange comments like "they're probably all in a five start hotel right now" and looking at Madelein in disgust, as if she were some kind of cosplayer just milking the situation. An assumption that wasn't even remotely true.

One day, she saw him on the bus. He was wearing a mask but she recognized his eyes.

He was smiling.

And she could hear him talking. Kind of.

Later, they explained it was a feature of the implant. One that wasn't always reliable.

Basically it created captions when you spoke. And if you wore it long enough, there could be problems. Like, creating dialogue even when you weren't talking.

And that was what was happening to all of them anytime they went to Missoula. Something to do with the geography and the way cameras worked.

So they wanted her out of there.

+++

Publicly, Felix was Catholic. Privately, he was in crisis.

On paper he had this whole life so many thought they knew. Privately, none of it felt real.

When he turned sixteen he enlisted in the military in Australia as a diversion sentence.

The file was tightly sealed along with the contractual stipulation that went alongside it which required his transfer and subsequent service alongside the South Korean military.

His entire existence up to that point was scrubbed and redrawn.

Because he had tried to kill his parents, and the military didn't want anyone knowing why.

Antonio Michael Mezzas wasn't on a single document anywhere. But that was the name he thought was his for roughly fifteen years. It was convenient, because his father, or the man he assumed was his father, shared the same name. He went by Tony, and Tony called him Toto. His mother's name was Antonia, but she went by something else. Felix couldn't remember now what it was.

The Mezzas raised him until his enlistment. Then, his family became the military. They assigned him a new family for appearances. There were photos made and everything. And if things fell apart, well, there were lots of lawyers and paperwork to answer to.

Life with the Mezzas felt like a bad dream he couldn't shake the memory of. The way Tony treated him, never like a son, more like a bother. The way the woman treated him less like a son than an incompetent lover.

Tony would call him around like a dog. Toto, he'd croon. When it was clearly not as annoying as he hoped (Felix learned quickly not to let anyone see how he truly felt about anything), Tony began calling him Tone instead. It was around the time they got this ugly little dog. I'll call you Tone know since you wanna get an attitude, Tony sneered.

Felix remained stonefaced.

And we'll call this little fucker Toto. Cause I know you get sentimental.

Felix didn't skip a beat. He just smiled like an idiot.

When he was allowed out into the neighborhood, he had met an older neighbor who had some kind of mental problem that made him seem too happy all the time.

Felix spent every spare moment watching this guy, so he could copy his every action.

Just for moments like this.

So he almost felt bad when Tony Senior kicked the little dog for emphasis.

Most of the time, they left him and Toto alone together. But only if Toto could see him.

Tony Senior told Tone the dog had a camera inside it that let people see everything he was doing.

So watch yourself Tone.

With this manic glint in his eyes.

It wasn't long after that he barged in on Tone with Toto in the bed. Both were bleeding profusely.

Tony Senior's eyes went spherical and he laughed more gaily than Tone imagined possible.

And after that they just started calling Tone, Toto again.

He never did find out where the corpse went.

+++

Sometimes, Tony senior and whatever her name was (Felix thought it might have started with an L) would drink a lot of wine. Usually on Saturdays. They said they were Rosicrucian Orthodox, although Tone wasn't sure exactly what that meant. Their bible wasn't in a language he recognized, although the bizarre linocut illustrations throughout said enough.

When that happened and Tone was home, he kept his ears ready for a burning sensation.

It was during these confessionals that he learned he was aborted.

And that's why Catholics don't believe in a bortion. Tony Senior would explain.

Felix still could not for the life of him remember what this woman was telling everyone her name was. But he could remember the way her face gaped after his but a bullet in it.

Because you were aborted by some woman.

He slurred.

Some famous woman. And the government she was a citizen of was doing experiments on her.

So she sold you to some other government that yer dad was from. Cuz he begged her not to do it.

And they put you in this lady after they did all kina ting to ya.

His accent was going all over the place now. Like it did when he got angry. Which was often.

It was some kind of Southern European accent. He just didn't know exactly what one.

Corsican maybe.

Anyway.

It was Saturday and Felix felt like he was in a time machine after the long flight from the United States. Where he had toured and played all over the country. But Madelein had not shown up once, despite having the means to do so.

He was trying not to care.

+++

Of course, the way Madelein interprets all of this is as if a team were meeting to discuss brand strategy,

Because after all, aren't I the demographic in some way?

But back to that basement in Seven Hills? Something told me it was somewhere more rural than that.

She would try to imagine that house Bush filmed their music videos in.

Kind of mustard yellow and dingy. Stained ship lap before it was trendy. Faded florals and shag. The smell of spilled beer, cigarette ash, cheap cologne instead of a washing machine.

That and the ghost of cooking oil.

The pair rarely cooked. But tonight they were having fried chicken.

Tone would always have to wait until they were done to eat. And that was what he was doing now. Watching Tony Seniors mouth move full of greasy fried chicken thoigh. He could smell it mixing with the spit in his mouth and one of the imported Jamaican beers he liked. Cos ye could build a ouse wit em.

The idea that Tone had been aborted wasn't something that he found shocking. In fact, the narrative distracted how hungry he felt from becoming the usual violent daydreams. He could remember the way it felt to be inside of her. That woman, who Tony Senior was pulling up videos of now on the old desktop PC while

Marilyn. And that was what Antonia was calling herself back then.

"Don't I look just like her?"

Marilyn Mezzas wanted to know.

Tone was trying to remember when he had eaten last now, and he really couldn't

Madelein thought, this must be because of those Bubble messages.

So it's a good thing I'm taking a break.

She remembered how she used to open the AI app and talk to Fake Felix instead of this madness.

But the memory of all this wasn't new. And it wasn't hers. But she could remember it like it was, almost.

Back to the house in Australia?

Allegedly.

 Tony Senior was feeding Marilyn now. The scene was all very tanked, like you will need one to get through it. A moment that needed containment. Certainly.

Tone was watching like a Bantu war doll filled with nails.

I love her more than anyone, Tony Senior told Tone.

Often.

She's my blood. Or else we'd be married on the books.

And that was how he learned that they were cousins, which was how they shared a last name.

Tone could remember his mother now.

Whatever her real name was, he liked it better than the name Marilyn.

Of course, all of this was very insulting to the façade created to protect the new reality.

This was nothing more than a hallucination of an artificial intelligence module.

It happens all the time.