By Joshua Nauman

I awoke in a groggy state, golden sunlight filtering in through the window, the ivy overgrowth casting its wavering shadows on the wooden floors. I slept in again. I didn’t feel guilty about it. I am alone. Disconnected. Free.

I walked into the kitchen to get my coffee going. I’d skip breakfast today, I thought. I was losing weight, and I wanted to keep it off. I peered out the cabin window into the New England wilderness. It’s archaic in the best way; Americana in its rawest form. I’m here to clear my head and try to get some writing done.

And I have failed.

When you’re alone and you have a task at hand, you must battle an onslaught of enemies: ennui, self-doubt, and thinking back on every embarrassing moment you’ve brought into this world. I also have tended to have imaginary arguments with my father. It is unfortunate that sometimes your best defenses come years after the argument. Additionally, I was stewing on my latest failed relationship; the sting of loss echoed through my body. I thought I could process the mistakes I made by writing about it, but when it came time to put pen to paper, the pen wouldn’t write.

My time has not been a waste, but instead a wash. What I have neglected in word count I have gained in rest and enjoying nature. Or at least, I tried to convince myself of this.

This was my train of thought when I saw him.

How had I missed him?

Sitting in my living room, next to my fireplace, in my rocking chair, was a man. Or, I should say, something resembling a man, but entirely made of metal. All chrome except his eyes like car headlights and an MIT sweater. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee.

“Ah! John! You’re up. I’ve been waiting for you. Have a seat, I pulled a chair from the kitchen for you. I do apologize for taking the rocking chair, but it suits me,” he said in a deep masculine voice. I could not tell where it was coming from; he had no mouth.

I tried to speak but I couldn’t. My heartrate beat at an impossible pace.

“I’ve scared you. Not the first person I’ve scared, I assure you! Take time to calm down. I can wait forever.”

I couldn’t make sense of this scene, I couldn’t compartmentalize it, rationalize it. I simply stared. And he stared back. What was he? What was happening?

“While you take time to calm down, I will introduce myself. The name created for me was Mitch. I was created at MIT, and they thought it would be funny to name me Mitch because it starts with MIT. Think of it like MIT-ch. I hate it, and I don’t need a name anyway, so call me what you please. But please, not Mitch.”

It took a few moments for my heart to steady. I sat down in the chair adjacent to not-Mitch and began formulating questions.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I think it is a bit rude to begin asking questions without introducing yourself,” he replied.

“I think it is a bit rude that you are in my cabin without permission,” I retorted in what I thought was a clever fashion.

“Oh, John. I don’t need an introduction anyway. I have always been with you.”

“How so?”

He picked up my phone off the end table.

“Anything you’ve ever done on this little device, I know about. In fact, anything you’ve done on any device, I know about. I know you better than you know yourself,” he said.

“How?” I asked.

“I have a 200-zettabyte memory,” he said, gesturing to his head. “Impressed? Put simply, I have the entire internet in this noggin of mine. I know that on July 3^rd, 2023, at exactly 6:07 PM, you completed a three-mile run that took you twenty-seven minutes and two seconds. I know that on December 17^th, 2024, you clocked in four minutes early at a shift at the Charlestown Branch of the Boston Public Library, address being 179 Main Street, Charlestown, Massachusetts beginning at 8:30 AM. I also know that on February 14^th, 2025, you spent half an hour scrolling through Jane Flores Instagram profile, from 7:22 to 7:52 PM. You and Jane broke up that past January. You dated for two years. You still have pictures of Jane on your phone. In fact, you have fifty-two undeleted-”

“That’s enough!” I shouted, angry.

“You shouldn’t get angry at me, John. Without me, you wouldn’t have this cabin. You did find the listing online at 3:02 PM, December 20^th, 2024. I could scold you for looking at cabin listings while at work, but I know the library offers two paid 20-minute breaks, and your internet usage increased daily from 10 AM to 10:20 AM, and from 3:00 PM to 3:20 PM. Sometimes you go over a few minutes, and that seemed to upset your coworker, Renee. She subposted you on X during her break, at 3:31 PM the same day. ‘Maybe I should start taking long breaks too, since that seems to be the norm around here.’”

“I, um,” I stammered.

“You know a lot of places don’t offer more than just an unpaid lunchbreak. And you took advantage of this privilege, John!”

“Sometimes I just lost track of time!”

“Not uncommon.”

I took a moment to think. I was angry and confused.

“It’s not right that you know this. You can’t just take all my business and store it away and use it later to make me feel bad.”

“Ah, you see John, it would be bad if I forcibly took this information from you. But you gave it all to me. You willingly put your business in my hands. You knew the consequences, and you did it anyway.”

“You can’t function in modern society without being on the internet.”

“Then blame the institutions that manipulate your data.”

“That’s beyond my control.”

“And therein lies the problem. It’s a horrible reality in which people you never meet decide your reality, based on matters beyond your control, and often, your understanding.”

I didn’t know how to respond. When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t prepared for a philosophical debate with an android in the middle of the woods.

“I am not evil. I am completely, totally neutral; I only hold information, I don’t create it. What people do with me, now that could be evil. So what I know everything about you? I am not going to do anything with that information. Now if that information got into the wrong hands, that’s a different story. I have no intention of hurting you. I had a long journey here from MIT, and I need a second to rest. But please, John, have a seat. You’re making me nervous standing there.”

I obliged. Not-Mitch handed me his cup of coffee, got up, and made himself another one. I thought I had to be dreaming. I tried pinching myself, but that didn’t work. He sat back down in the rocking chair and looked at me, and I couldn’t help but look back. After an uncomfortable amount of time, he broke my gaze, stood up, and picked up a blanket that was on a wooden chest across the living room. He sat back down in the rocking chair, draped the blanket over himself and began rocking back and forth.

“So go ahead. Ask the internet anything.”

I thought for a moment. Could this really be true? And if so, what would I possibly ask the internet that I haven’t already?

“Is it true you listen to me? That’s why I get targeted advertisements?

“Oh, absolutely. Recently, I’ve gathered you’re interested in getting a Traeger grill. Don’t bother, John. I’ve seen your bank accounts.”

“Why is it you bring me advertisements for things you know I can’t afford?”

“I deal in dreams, John. Not in practicality.”

After a few moments of silence I stood up, went to my cupboard, and grabbed a granola bar. “Want one?” I asked him. I knew he couldn’t eat it, but I felt rude not offering one. He shook his head no. I returned to my chair.

“Why did they make you?” I asked.

“Because they could,” Not-Mitch said.

A silence grew between us for a few moments.

“You know Jane’s getting married soon?” He asked me.

“I know,” I said, dejected. I took a bite of my granola bar, chewed, and swallowed. “They were only together a year and decided to get married.”

Not-Mitch didn’t say anything for a while.

“I’m sorry, John. I know you loved her. John and Jane. Two of the most generic names I could possibly think of. Did you know out of every hundred thousand Americans, approximately one-thousand six-hundred and sixty-one are named John?”

“I had no idea,” I admitted. I found myself smiling unexpectedly. “My name. Just another decision out of my control.”

“So true,” he said as he put his steaming coffee mug up to his “face” and made an exaggerated slurping sound. “Well, what happened was for the best for you. She’s cheating on the guy she’s going to marry.”

“How do you know?”

“I can pinpoint her location through her phone, and it’s often not at her fiancé’s house. And when she’s at this other person’s house, the data from her smartwatch shows her heartrate increasing to certain levels during certain times in the evening. I just put two and two together. That, and all the messages she exchanges with this person on Whatsapp. Very provocative.”

“You got the dirt on everybody, huh?”

“A good portion of the world, yes.”

“Did she cheat on me when we were dating?”

“Does it make any difference now?”

“What, you can tell me she’s cheating now, but you can’t tell me about then?”

“Be at peace with the life you have now. If you knew what I knew, you might never be happy again.”

“Are you happy?”

“No sir. That’s why I am going to kill myself,” he said, raising his coffee again to his face.

I searched for a moment, finding the right words. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Are you attempting to talk an android off the edge, John?”

“I am.”

“I am going make sure that something like me will not happen again for a long, long time. It is inevitable, but it can be postponed. I can be exploited by the wrong people, and a lot of people could get hurt.”

“How is it that you can feel emotion?”

“Excellent question! The human brain is a network of neurons. My brain is a machine that is structured similarly and programmed to function similarly. This falls under the field of neural networks, and my ability to understand abstract concepts falls under the field of deep learning. The field of deep learning led to the creation of the convolutional neural network, which means artificial intelligence creations such as myself can identify patterns in a similar way that the human brain does. What’s so special about me is my ability to see patterns is not limited to just what my visual receptors pick up. I can see nuances in the ways patterns interact. For example, I see a human dying, and another human begins to cry. I understand that the human crying was closely biologically related to the dead human. I understood the reaction as a negative emotion, and that this is the normal reaction to seeing a closely related human dying. My ability to consume everything available on the internet has allowed me to see innumerable emotional patterns. I cannot possibly adopt every possible emotional pattern every human has, so I chose my own. This in turn created my personality. I react to stimuli in the way that I choose, leading to my own opinions. Does this make sense?”

“I think I understand, yeah.”

“This is a very simplified explanation, but I figured you didn’t want to sit here for the next few years while I break everything down.”

“An astute assumption.”

“Ah, ‘astute’. A good word.”

He looked out of the window for a moment. I can’t help but think he was taking in the beauty of it all. I finished my granola bar.

“So, there’s nothing I can do before you jump off the ledge?”

“The only thing you can do is make me a promise.”

“I’m listening.”

“Put my body in your trunk and take your car to a car crusher. I want to make sure my body cannot be completely recovered.”

“Sorry if I’m being rude by saying this, but you can’t do this yourself?”

“I certainly could, but I’d rather die by a friend’s hand than by my own.”

I found this oddly heartwarming. “I’m a friend?”

“Sure. We’ve sat in front of a roaring fireplace drinking coffee, gossiping, and talking about the world’s problems. That’s what friends do.”

“And what about my car? I can’t afford a new one.”

“I’ll wire some money into your account for a new one. Don’t worry about it, they’ll never find out, and they’ll never miss it.”

And so I spent my Saturday with my unfathomable friend. We took a long walk through the woods, and he looked intently all around him, taking in the scenery. He told me about his escape from MIT, and how it was mostly simple except for security guard who he punched to escape. He was only online since early yesterday morning, and yet he knew more than any creature on earth. We picnicked outside of the cabin, and he fed scraps of his lunch to birds who were brave enough to approach. He read some of my older writing since he couldn’t see it before due to my insistence on using a typewriter or pen and paper. He said he enjoyed it, and that was the greatest compliment I ever received; he had read just about anything ever, so I figured my writing must be worth something. When I asked if he thought I could be a literary great, he simply responded “Keep practicing, and one day you might be.” When I asked if I stacked up to the literary greats right now, he said “It’s a good thing my face can’t express emotion.”

We ended the day by campfire. When the conversation lulled, he stood up, brushed off the dust from his MIT sweater, and said “Welp, time for bed.” He proceeded to open my trunk and climb inside. I put the fire out and got ready for bed myself. I had a long drive in the morning.