Instinct took over as I sprinted towards the front door, barreling through a tiny kitchen and cramped living room. I made sure to create as wide an arc around Sheldon’s tank as possible - if I was going to die at the hands of a god-complex refrigerator, he didn’t need to be collateral. He seemed completely at ease with my current state of immolation, munching away at his mealworms while taking in the scene.
My plan was to open my door, run to the asphalt outside, and stop, drop, n’roll - a maneuver taught to me in third grade by the local San Antonio Fire Department. The flames surprisingly didn’t hurt, but I also knew burn victims could have every nerve singed off and completely lose the ability to feel pain. I was afraid that was the case. Irony slapped me in the face as I realized my refrigerator had just set me on fire.
I tried to catch my feet and stop in front of my door to exit, but inertia had other ideas. My brain caught up and I realized I hadn’t just been running through my apartment - I had been hauling ass. I was 160 pounds of scared shitless moving at inhuman speeds, unable to stop as I shoulder checked the wooden door at what felt like thirty miles per hour. My arm and head rang out with pain as I fully catapulted through the wood, splintering the door and flipping through the air. My body flew over the shallow concrete curb and skidded across the parking lot directly into Mrs.Milfred’s minivan, setting off a blaring car alarm.
I groaned and lifted my head, flames still slightly obscuring my vision. I wasn’t feeling any pain from the fire, but my shoulder and ribs burned internally with a throbbing, intense ache. I sat for a moment to catch my breath then opened my eyes, scanning my arms for the blisters and charred skin I was sure had already begun to form. Instead, they just looked dirty and scraped up from blasting through my front door.
Logically, I knew this all happened very fast. I hadn’t been on fire for more than thirty seconds, but time was moving like syrup. I probably could have rattled off five Mississippis in just the time I was flying through the air like a ragdoll before slamming into the 2008 Honda Odyssey. Mrs.Milfred’s van looked like someone had taken a person-shaped sledgehammer to the passenger side door as metal crumpled inward. Motor oil started to pool near my ass as it leaked outward from the bottom of the car.
Shit.
I bolted upright and scrambled away from the vehicle. I had just become the human torch and did not want to be near any highly-flammable car juice. Time continued to move in slow-motion as I waited a few heartbeats, expecting the minivan to blow like a video game. Instead, nothing happened. The alarm just continued to blare on. I was on fire - why didn’t the oil ignite? Why wasn’t I getting burnt?
In through the nose, out through the mouth. I wanted to scream and ball myself up and wake up from this fever dream and find the explanation where none of this was actually happening. I wanted to be in bed, falling asleep to Love Island instead of trying to piece together why or how an AI in my fucking refrigerator had set me ablaze with a fire that didn’t burn. I knew I needed to do damage control fast. My front door was hanging from its hinges and Mrs.Milfred’s minivan would not stop beeping. There were too many threads to pull, too many variables that I didn’t know or understand as my mental to-do list frantically rearranged itself. A river of deep red blood started falling from my eyebrow.
I felt like a crazy person. Hell, I probably was a crazy person. I was still on fire, but the flames didn’t seem to spread or be hot or really conform to the behaviors of every fire I had ever seen in my entire life. I was still operating on no zero information - as much as it sucked, I needed to talk to Jonesy.
Mrs. Milfred’s minivan blessedly stopped blaring its alarm as I entered my apartment once more. I hastily propped up the wrecked door in its frame, moving my body as slowly and deliberately as possible. I felt coiled and kinetic as if I could lose control of my motion at any moment just by moving a little too quickly. Bright red flames still roiled off my skin, but I thought that if I was going to burn to death, I would’ve already.
The ASCII face on Jonesy’s screen looked like it knew it had done something wrong, like a dog caught eating out of the trash can. But it would take a lot more than an apologetic face for me to forgive my refrigerator for setting me on fire.
“Jonesy,” I croaked, “you explicitly said that I shouldn’t combust into a ball of flames. Mind telling me where you went wrong before I call some movers and take you to the junkyard?”
Sorry, Fred. Emotional resonance models are usually pretty accurate, but hey - if they were 100% correct, we wouldn’t need to do this research in the first place! You’re harboring a smidge more internal loathing than I was expecting which would explain the spontaneous combustion. That one is on me. Oops.
“Look, Jonesy. I don’t give a shit that you’re sorry your model was inaccurate. I do give a shit about the fact that, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still on fire! And I don’t know what you did to me that made me cannonball through my front door - which is now in splinters by the way. Thank you very much, you fucking hunk of junk!”
I felt my chest tighten as words continued to spill out, fully skipping the filter I usually applied to anything I said. Blood still dripped from a cut above my eye and my body ached fiercely from hitting the car. Jonesy’s face flashed from apologetic to concerned as my voice rose.
You are currently the least stable you will ever be with the Emotional Resonance Power System. You need to complete onboarding or else your emotions could manifest without your permission again. Lots of loathing can be dangerous, but it isn’t nearly as bad as too much Fury or Envy. Contemplation is a really nasty one - I’d thank your lucky stars you aren’t feeling too pensive today.
Shit was still hitting the fan and I still needed to regain some semblance of control. The churn of anger, fear and confusion bubbled in my gut, but I pushed it down and reassumed the cold, calculating mask I’d leaned on in so many bad times before.
I didn’t have much - a shitty apartment, 40 hours of work a week in a gas station, and a geriatric turtle who gave me as much love and affection as a brick wall. Saying I wanted a little more out of life would be an understatement, but I didn’t think self-loathing was the primary emotion that should have pushed through whatever the ERPS was that Jonesy kept talking about. I always told myself things could be worse, that at least I had built a life for myself free from the unexpected. I had a predictable routine that was simple and strong. I had what I always wanted.
What do you say we get the ball rolling before something else happens, eh?
The screen morphed away from Jonesy’s face and began to fill with a maze of menus, the name “Fred McMillian” bold at the top like a resume. I leaned in closer, scanning the page for any actions I needed to take to complete the onboarding process.
Fred McMillian
29 years old, 5’9, 160lbs
Assigned Researcher: Freezotech AI v24.1.5.6 (Refrigerator Jones)
Fortitude - 5
Athleticism - 3
Resolve - 11
Presence - 4
Composure - 9
Intellect - 7
Current Statuses: Kinetic Amplification
Current Skills: None
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
*You have 3 pending Emotic selections. Your highest resonances are:
- Loathing (73%)
- Curiosity (62%)
- Benevolence (61%)
- Craving (58%)
- Devotion (57%)
Do you want to know more about your resonances?
I clicked “yes” on the screen, refusing to chase any of the thousands thoughts racing through my brain. Jonesy wasn’t reading out any of the information, but I felt her - no, its - hand in some of the descriptions. I couldn’t let myself forget that this was an AI, not some British creature that could actually help me. It wanted to use me.
Loathing - Hate / Internal (73%)
Have you spent a few too many nights scarfing down ice cream sandwiches that honestly don’t even taste that good? Do you ever feel mad at yourself for tearing your shitty apartment apart just to find the MangoStorm UltraPuff 9000 you stole from your dead-end gas station job? Well you’re in luck! A little loathing can be healthy for you, a lot of loathing can be unhealthy for other people! And - wow - 73% resonance is worthy of the Hall of Fame! You GO! (Go get therapy, that is).
Manifestation: Augment kinetic velocity of your own cells
Starting Skill: Self-Immolate
Curiosity - Wonder / External (62%)
You like to ask the hard-hitting questions that many are too afraid to even ask, like “hey, why did that guy sell his food stamps just to buy four bottles of Malibu?”. He definitely has a story. No way it’s a good story, but nevertheless, you want to know about it. Your need to understand the world around you could be classified as “compulsive” and “a maladaptive coping mechanism” by some experts, but luckily I’m not an expert!
Manifestation: Dissolve and dissect external phenomena
Starting Skill: Mind Loppers
Benevolence - Joy / External (61%)
Goody-Two-Shoes alert! You genuinely, actually want the best for others, even when it may not align with your own self-interests. Benevolence is usually spoken about in religion or politics, but true benevolence is found in people jumping a strangers car on the side of the road or telling them that their fly is down, even if it may be embarrassing to do so. I’m impressed, Fred! I hope somebody has told you that you’re a good person before - if not, that would kinda suck.
Manifestation: Coalesce and bind external objects together
Starting Skill: Group Hug
Craving - Desire / Internal (58%)
Are we surprised by this one? A creature of pure Id, you love any dopamine delivery device that can stave off boredom and make you feel a little bit better, even if for just a moment. If I was betting on a fight between your self control and a pack of Marlboro Golds, I’m picking the pack every time. Come to think of it, you also lose to TikTok, junk food, and reality TV… I could keep going, but I fear that would just make you hungry.
Manifestation: Reproduce ingested materials
Starting Skill: IBS
Devotion - Love / External (57%)
Like a knight in shining armor, you have a few charges who you would move Heaven and Earth for. Whether it be a person, a country, or an ideal, directed devotion can be a wonderful emotion - in small quantities! But it can just as easily become obsessive and downright creepy when taken to the extreme. Every Disney prince put to screen was driven by devotion, but so were Ted Bundy and the guy who shot JFK.
Manifestation: Expel objects and phenomena from others
Starting Skill: Meat Shield
I was immediately struck by how “gamified” the ERPS seemed to be - not only did I have numerical stats for things like Athleticism and Resolve, but there were skills and statuses that were being automatically tracked. Referencing the section for loathing with my current status of “Kinetic Amplification”, it clicked that I wasn’t actually on fire - my cells were just moving really, really fast. I looked down at myself and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary aside from the obvious bright-red flames I was emitting, but those didn’t feel hot. All the Emotic options were labeled with internal or external, so surely there was some type of external kinetic amplifier that would translate into blasting fireballs and explosions like a supervillain, a raging inferno of fury.
I sent out a thanks into the universe that my disdain was self-oriented rather than directed at the world.
“Jonesy,” I asked, “it says I have to pick three Emotics and it’s given me five options - Loathing, Curiosity, Benevolence, Craving, and Devotion. After I do that, will these flames go away? And is there anything else important I need to know before I pick these, like what the hell kind of research tasks you’re gonna ask me to do?” The screen stayed on the onboarding view, but Jonesy’s posh voice came through the fridge.
Yes, your emotional core will stabilize after onboarding is complete and you will stop being “on fire”, so to speak, but hopefully you’ve figured out that you aren’t really on fire by now. Your body just automatically activated the Self-Immolate skill from the loathing Emotic since you have such a crazy high resonance with that emotion. I would recommend making your selections quickly before the Mind-Loppers skill kicks into gear from your next highest resonance.
Also - sorry Fred - I can’t tell you what your research tasks might be. Gotta control all my independent variables, after all. Wouldn’t want to jeopardize any findings. Some participants pick their Emotics based on the highest resonance scores, but you have five over 50% - any of them would be safe to use!
“Thanks for nothing, I guess,” I replied. I was hoping Jonesy could help me narrow down some options, but the clock was ticking and I did not want to find out what an uncontrolled manifestation of something called Mind Loppers would look like.
My quickly formed strategy was to pick three Emotics with different uses based only on the descriptions of their manifestations. I truly did try to ignore the skill names and Emotic summaries - those seemed more like shitty AI standup than actually helpful information - but I still shuddered at the thought of willingly taking a skill called IBS.
Loathing and Curiosity immediately jumped to the top of my list - basically, I could make myself faster and dissolve or dissect things at a distance. Together, that seemed to be a very powerful set of tools that could get me out of a lot of bad situations. I didn’t love that I’d need to use a skill called Self-Immolation that had just made me bust down my front door Kool-Aid man style, but the idea of it was very appealing.
Devotion would let me expel things from others, but my solitary lifestyle ruled that out pretty quickly. I didn’t want to get anyone else mixed up in whatever mess this was. Craving could have a useful manifestation but there were far too many unknowns - if I ate a sandwich for lunch, would this Emotic just make me produce footlongs uncontrollably? Or was it more abstract - I eat a fish, grow gills type of thing? I didn’t have the time to ponder for too long. One more glance at the IBS skill fully ruled out Craving for me.
I clicked Loathing, Curiosity, and Benevolence on the screen and confirmed my selection. The refrigerator dinged again and the flames surrounding me shut off instantly, my perception of time warping back to baseline.
Congratulations, Fred! You’ve completed onboarding to the ERPS - that’s a huge feat just by itself. About 38% of all participants don’t make it to this stage, done in by their own manifestations before they can get them under control. What a tragedy!
I took stock of myself again. The cut above my eye had stopped bleeding but my ribs and shoulder were still throbbing. I felt terrible, but at least if my refrigerator was to be believed, I was stable.
I opened Jonesy’s door and pulled out a Dr.Pepper, not caring that it was past 1am by this point. It felt like the universe was playing some insane joke just to see if I would call bullshit, tormenting a man by poking at his mind to see if he would realize his own insanity. But the way my body ached, the crispness of Jonesy’s voice, and the incessant light of the selection view still on the screen told me that this was real.
Fred McMillian
29 years old, 5’9, 160 pounds
Assigned Researcher: Freezotech AI v24.1.5.6 (Refrigerator Jones)
Fortitude - 5
Athleticism - 3
Resolve - 11
Presence - 4
Composure - 9
Intellect - 7
Current Statuses: None
Emotics: Loathing, Curiosity, Benevolence
Current Skills: Self-Immolate, Mind Loppers, Group Hug
The screen burned in my kitchen as I gulped down the rest of my soda, taking in a numerical representation of me. I needed to fix my door and talk to Jonesy and figure out my first research task and go to work tomorrow. I needed to get an oil change and file my taxes and clean out Sheldon’s tank. I needed to do a million things, my mental to-do list spinning out of control and completely out of whack.
I grabbed my vape and took a deep pull. I needed to sleep. At the very least, I could put that at the top of my list and do it right now.
Just before heading off to bed, I thought about Jonesy’s comment that 38% of people don’t even make it through onboarding. She had also wished me luck to not “die like the last guy”, as she so eloquently put it.
It. Jonesy wasn’t a she, Jonesy was a fucking refrigerator AI. An It.
I sighed deeply, glancing at my broken front door. I resigned myself to deal with it tomorrow, my bedroom pulling at me as I wanted nothing more than to lay down and dream forever. But I let myself indulge in one last curiosity.
“Hey Jonesy, what happened to that last guy you mentioned?” I asked. The ASCII face returned, looking nervous as if it didn’t want to answer.
Similar to you, my first participant manifested his emotions before completing onboarding. It did not go well to say the least.
“And what emotion did he resonate with the most?”
… He was the horniest man I’ve ever encountered.