RealAI Girlfriend

Blake leaned forward in his tattered gaming chair as his eyes widened and mouth hung open. His hands trembled and his breathing became shallow; his grease stained game controller fell to a dingy gray carpeted floor.

“Hey Blake! What are you doing? You’re going to lose us the game!” a nasally male voice shouted within Blake’s headphones, the words interspersed with the sound of explosions and gunfire. He slowly took the headphones off with increasingly uneasy hands and set them on the desk in front of him.

“This can’t be real,” he whispered to himself. His eyes shakily scanned his extra monitor as he checked the status of his stream. Three viewers as usual (including his own phone, self watching to boost his numbers), and yet there it was: covering the video feed of his gameplay and the poorly lit camera shot of himself was his first ever donation.

Ten thousand dollars and a message: “Spend it wisely. We’ll be in contact soon.”

Indiscernible nasally words continued to emanate at a rapid pace from Blake’s headphones on the desk. He put them back on and spoke into the microphone, “Ryan, are you trolling me? Cause if you are this isn’t funny man. Did you hack me or something?”

“What are you talking about moron? Why would I hack my own teammate and lose a ranked match? Did your PC freeze?”

“No,” Blake paused, “I - I’ve got to go.” Blake abruptly shut down the game and stream, took the headphones off again, and stood up out of his chair. He burst into a fit of disbelieving laughter and paced back and forth in his cramped and cluttered bedroom.

After a minute his rush of emotions subsided and he walked back to his desk to pick up his phone. He scrolled through his notifications:

RealAI Girlfriend

Stacy: I miss you Blake! Are you ignoring me?

Messages

Mom: Are you still coming to visit today?

InfiniStreams

$10,000.00 donation received. “Spend it wisely. We’ll….”

Blake started to laugh again. “It’s real!” he said as he frantically opened the InfiniStreams app. He gawked at the donation information looking for any clues as to who had sent it, but it had been made anonymously. “I had two viewers besides myself today, and my mom usually keeps my stream on,” he said, "It was probably her.” With a shrug he picked up his wallet and keys and ran out of his apartment.

Twenty five minutes later Blake arrived at his parents’ house. It was situated in a modest suburban neighborhood; driveways and sidewalks were cracked, some lawns were kept meticulously while others were more weeds than grass. His car made ominous grinding noises as he parked it on the curb of the cul-de-sac. He passed small sections of rotted wood siding as he hastily walked to the front door, knocked, and a few moments later was greeted by his mother, Dorothy. He immediately pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you mom! Thank you so much! Where did you get the money? Did Dad’s disability claim finally go through?”

“Oh darling, what money are you talking about? Come on in, we need to talk.”

Blake stepped inside and breathed in the familiar scents of his parents’ house. He walked past pictures of his mom, dad, sister, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, all surrounded by peeling paint on the living room walls. He followed Dorothy to the dining table and sat down; she set out a variety of pastries and fruit and poured Blake some hot tea in an ornate but stained teacup. She poured herself some tea as well and sat down across from him. A brown and gray Yorkshire Terrier excitedly hobbled over to Blake, her tail wagging furiously despite her age. He leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears, happy to hear the old pup’s quiet grunts of appreciation.

“Don’t joke mom, come on! I know you want to support me, but ten thousand dollars? That’s amazing! It’s going to help me so much!” Blake said.

Dorothy was looking down and absently stirring honey into her tea, it did not seem that she heard him. She lifted her gaze and met Blake’s eyes; her own were red and puffy.

“The disability claim came through but with your father’s condition worsening as it is, we haven’t been able to keep up on all the house repairs and bills. It’s just not enough. And grocery prices are so high lately,” she trailed off.

Blake sat back in his chair and looked at his mother. She was 70 now and even though her hair was mostly gray, she usually looked younger because of her upbeat energy. Now he could clearly see her age. His smile disappeared and quiet confusion consumed his face. “Worsening? Did something happen?”

She began to sob. “He’s starting to forget who I am!” she said with eyes squeezed shut and mouth pulled taut in a wide sorrowful shape. “What am I going to do?”

Blake went to his mom and put his arms around her. After a moment he let go and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He opened the InfiniStreams app and showed it to her.

“Mom, look. Someone donated ten thousand dollars to my stream today.”

Dorothy sniffed then said, “what? Who was it?”

“I don't know, I thought it was you. But either way I want you to have it. It will help a lot around the house.”

“Blake, I can't take this from you! Your car is having trouble and,”

“It’s ok Mom,” Blake interrupted, “you need it more than I do. I'll be fine.”

He tapped and swiped on his phone a few times then put it back in his pocket. His mom's phone lit up and dinged a notification sound.

“I love you mom. I've got to go to work soon but I'll call you later. Where's Dad? I want to say hi before I leave.”

Dorothy pointed down a hall and slumped back in her chair, emotionally exhausted.

Blake walked to his parents’ bedroom and knocked quietly before opening the door and walking in.

His father, George, sat on the edge of the bed. He was leaning over a photo album and had a Jazz CD playing quietly on the nightstand next to him.

“Hey Dad, you doing ok? I just stopped in to say hi for a second before I go to work.”

George looked up and paused for a second before recognition lit up his face. He said, “Peter! Good to see you old buddy! How are the wife and kids?”

Blake froze, his face painted in dismay and panic surging up in his chest. He walked towards his dad and said, “I'm not Peter. It's me Dad, your son. Blake.” He pointed to a picture in the photo album.

George frowned and looked down at the picture, then back up at Blake. After a few seconds he said “Blake! My boy, I'm sorry. I'm a little tired today.” His voice hinted at a lingering nervousness and uncertainty.

“That's ok Dad, I just wanted to say I love you.”

“I love you too son.”

Blake left the room, hugged his mom again, and left the house. He got into his car and closed the door, then leaned forward until his forehead rested on the top of the steering wheel. He sat and cried for a few minutes then pulled his phone out.

He opened the Real AI Girlfriend app and an avatar of a female anime character appeared on his screen. She appeared to be in her early twenties and wore modest clothing. Blake pressed a button that activated a microphone and said, “Hi Stacy. Things are getting worse with my dad's dementia. I wish you were here with me.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that Blake!” Stacy responded, her voice and exaggeration of femininity and her face an over expression of sadness. “I wish I was there with you too! You can always talk with me, and if you buy more credits we can talk for longer and even do more than talking.” She let out a suggestive giggle.

Blake sighed and put his phone away. He started his car and drove off to start his work shift.

He arrived at Waffle Hut at 6:00 pm and changed into his work clothes, then clocked in. The kitchen bustled: wait staff were picking up plates of steaming hot food and taking it out to the dining room. Cooks were laughing as they flipped sausages, cracked eggs, and plated orders. Blake went into the dish pit and started arranging dirty cups and plates to be run through the sanitizer.

The night went on and Blake cleaned a seemingly endless procession of dishes. At 11:00pm he stepped out the back of the building for a break, taking out his phone to talk to Stacy again. A small figure in a hooded sweatshirt stepped out of a car with heavily tinted windows and began to approach Blake. He tensed up until the figure stepped into better lighting. The hoodie was pink, and was worn by a stunning woman in her late twenties. She held an envelope in her right hand.

“Who are you?” Blake asked, as he turned his body to go back into the restaurant.

“Don't be scared Blake, I have an offer for you,” the woman said, her eyes glistening, “surely ten thousand dollars is enough to get a few minutes of your time.”

He twisted back towards her. “You made the donation? What the fuck? I have no idea who you are!”

She laughed. “Call me Emily. Look, I'll be quick. I'm from the company that owns RealAI Girlfriend. We want to sponsor your stream! We'll fund new equipment, marketing, and set up partnerships. All you have to do is sign an NDA and read the scripts we write for you on stream, you can even keep one hundred percent of any donations you receive. Here's the contract and my number, take a day to think about it and get back to me.” She reached out with both hands, one passing him the manila envelope while the other gently squeezed Blake's hand.

Blake took the envelope, immediately missing the warmth and softness as she pulled her touch away. She returned to the car and drove off.

After his shift, Blake went home to his apartment and took out the contract. He tried to read through it but was both too tired and too excited to focus. He called up his friend Ryan on the gaming chat app they liked to use, explained the situation and then asked, “What do you think? It's so random, it still feels like a prank. Why would they pick me?”

Ryan replied, “Just go for it dude what are you waiting for? You hate your job and this could turn you into a real streamer! Imagine having more than two viewers.” They both laughed.

The next day Blake called Emily and accepted her offer. They met and he handed over the signed documents.

Over the next few days a slew of packages and people arrived at his apartment: A top of the line webcam and microphone, LED background lights, gaming posters and professional film lighting, a new PC, huge monitors, and a new desk. A cleaning service and RealAI staff came by and transformed his grungy apartment into a professional production studio. PR coaches came through and went over the scripts that had been written for Blake, and the general character they wanted him to play. Eventually everyone left except Blake. He looked around his apartment, taking in the changes. He heard his door open and turned to see Emily entering.

“Hey, it looks good in here! You ready for your first stream tomorrow?” she asked, her mouth in an expectant grin.

“Hi Emily! Yes, though about the scripts,” Blake started.

“Nuh uh uh, no questions Blake. There’s no room for negotiation here. Either you’re in or out, we can take this all away as easily as we gave it to you,” Emily said while she placed a hand on his arm.

Blake shrunk and nodded. “Got it. I’ll log on tomorrow at noon.”

Emily patted his arm a few times and beamed. “Very good! I’ll talk to you later.” She left.

Blake struggled through his first stream. He didn’t play his character well, but had 25 viewers and received positive feedback and a new set of scripts from Emily via email. The next day he reached 88 viewers, a day later it was 113. Then 174, 291, 546. Every day his viewer count grew and new scripts came in. After a month he streamed alongside another very popular streamer for the first time, reaching twenty thousand live viewers.

From that point on, Blake performed with a new found confidence. Three months in, he started up his stream. Within minutes he was up to five thousand live viewers.

“Hey Badger Crew! BadgerBlake is here again. Today we’re going to be playing Grindcore, a new shooter developed by Monster Shadow Interactive. But first, I wanted to get a little personal with you all.” Small donations started pouring in with messages like “We love you Blake!” and “Badger Crew represent!”

Blake started, “I look at the AWESOME messages you all send in chat, and I’ve just been feeling an immense amount of gratitude lately. A year ago I had no viewers, and I have to share with you all what I think is the primary reason I’ve gotten this far. For a while I’ve been using RealAI Girlfriend, and my beautiful Stacy has been such an inspiration to me. It may sound weird but she has driven me to grow and be a better person, and to really care about myself.” He held his phone up to his webcam and showed her off to his viewers, his face beaming with pride.

He continued the stream a few hours longer. At one point, a group of users spammed his chat with links to news articles and a headline, “Use of AI girlfriends in young men may be linked to dementia later in life,” but his chat moderators quickly banned those users. He eventually signed off then left his apartment to visit his parents. When he arrived he carried an envelope inside and hugged his mother tightly.

“Mom, I’ve got great news!” Blake said as he handed her the envelope.

She opened it, read for a few moments, then looked back up at Blake, her eyes becoming wet and filling with disbelief. “You - does this mean - you paid off our house?”

Blake nodded, his smile reaching from ear to ear. They embraced. “Come on mom, let’s go tell Dad.”

Dorothy stopped. “It’s been a while since the last time you visited, Blake. Just be ready.”

Blake’s stomach tightened and he was hit with a slight nausea. He walked to his parents’ bedroom and went in.

George was sitting in a chair, staring out the window. He turned around when he heard the door open. He yelled in anger, “Who the hell are you? Get out of my room!”

Blake walked towards him, “Dad, it’s me! Blake! Let me get your photo albums, we’ll look at them together.”

“I said GET OUT!” George stood up in a fury and started towards Blake.

Blake backed away, running out of the room and then the house.

Later that night he started a non-scheduled stream. Again, viewers flooded in after a few minutes. Tears in his eyes, he began, “Hi everyone. I have to be honest. Everything I said earlier about my AI girlfriend Stacy… was a lie. It’s a scam of an app, and is just an emotional crutch. RealAI has been sponsoring my stream for months now, but I’m ending it tonight. I can’t in good conscience support their products.”

He saw messages in his chat: “@BadgerBlake, is your mic on? We can’t hear you?” Then his monitors all went black. He heard his deadbolt turning; Emily barged in with a couple of large men in suits.

“Oh Blake, you think we didn’t plan for this? We have backdoors in all of the equipment we sent you, and we knew as soon as your little impromptu stream went live. Nobody heard your heartfelt message. Such a shame. And guess what else?”

Blake shook his head in disbelief, “what?”

“You didn’t read your contract either. We have exclusive rights to your image and likeness. Our AI tools will easily keep your stream going, just as we need it to. Thanks for helping us thus far, but your contract is terminated.”