NOTE FROM THE EDITOR:
In light of recent events, there was consensus among the staff here at APPSTITUDE that we owed our former colleague Gordon Willis the opportunity for his side of the story to be made public.
There has been a lot of speculation in the media, and certainly plenty more will come to light with the ongoing investigations, but given so much is decided in the court of public opinion, the family has requested that this be published.
We received a laptop with hard drives, as well as a phone and a spiral notebook filled with all handwritten notes from Gordon, an important distinction which will become clear later. The following article is a rough timeline of events built from the rough copy of the article that Gordon was working on along with all other available information.
There are many disturbing and graphic images described as well as mature language and triggering scenarios that have been left in, out of respect for the truth. Reader discretion is advised.
“APP SEES DEAD PEOPLE.”
By Gordon Willis
Death has always been my constant companion. Like many people, my life has had a good deal of tragedy. The time not spent grieving, often being filled with the fear of impending doom. I lament those lost, wishing there was a way I could speak to my loved ones again, even if just once.
LAZARUS, the new app from our friends at SIGIL aims to change all that. Utilizing a robust AI algorithm they claim puts all their competitors to shame, the app promises to deliver something humans have been trying for centuries… to communicate with the dead!
Now technically, not the actual dead, but by using a comprehensive and complex set of data points, it gives users the experience of talking to a person beyond the grave.
Using images, videos, audio, historical records, even DNA (you wondered what all those ancestry websites would do with your data) to create a virtual ghost, that looks and sounds, and THINKS, like the real thing.
Obviously there are inherent gaps in this process, people are a multitude as they say, but these tech “spirits” are filled in and rounded out with every behavioral and predictive science model ever written. All of humanity’s knowledge at its fingertips to create something far more subtle and realistic than ever done before.
Now, who would want this beyond the sort of people you might see at a good old fashioned seance?
Well, the market is much bigger than what you might think.
Sigil claims their research has already shown huge benefits in using it as a tool in grief therapy, with the chance to speak to someone gone too soon, to say the things you never got a chance to say. Maybe finally tell your parents how you really feel!
The advanced connectivity functions, pairing with SIRI, ALEXA, NEST, ROKU, really anything with Bluetooth, allow users to have their loved ones follow them around the house, a presence to help fill the lonely nights. Early tests have even shown quite a profound effect on Alzheimer’s patients, and while the research is still out, the findings thus far are compelling to say the least.
APPSTITUDE was given an exclusive copy to review ahead of their beta test launch in September. If everything they claim is even half true, this should be an exciting experiment, if not a little spooky.
Day 1
My login arrived for Lazarus today. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on who I should “resurrect”. The app comes preloaded with three “historical ghosts” for those who just want to play around.
You can have “Old Blue Eyes” himself, Frank Sinatra croon for you, talk ethics with Gandhi, or get a theater review from Abe Lincoln. Personally, I held off engaging with any of them as I wanted my first experience to be completely fresh and personal.
I have a good deal to choose from unfortunately.
Like a lot of people my age, I’ve had several close friends who didn’t outlast the wildest of their party days, all of my grandparents are long gone, and most recently, I lost my father after a brief and horrible battle with the fucking ever present “C” word.
He was my best friend, and the wound is still very fresh two years later. We were lucky enough to have one of these relationships where nothing was left unsaid between us. Our love for one another was quite clear, and although I want nothing more than to speak with him again, I decided it would just be too painful.
Speaking to a recently lost loved one and working through the stages of grief together is of course one of the program’s main selling points, but no matter how good this software might be, I knew in this case it would pale in comparison to the genuine article.
Instead, I decided to start combing through the family archives. While cleaning out my father’s house, I had inherited dozens of boxes of keepsakes and photo albums and personal records. Up till now, I was emotionally unequipped to open them and see what I actually had, but now with a writing assignment, it felt like I could dive in as more of a research project and separate myself from some of the sadness.
There had been several interesting characters from my family’s past that were of interest, but buried in those boxes was someone I had nearly forgotten about.
My father’s uncle, my Great Uncle Roland, had died when I was only five. His funeral had been my first encounter with the Grim Reaper, and thus seemed the perfect fit. I tapped the smiling ghost icon of Lazarus, and set off to Frankenstein him back to life.
I knew very little about Uncle Roland. My father told me a couple fun stories about him, but for the most part details were scarce. I always wondered if there had been a falling out, because I remember my mother once saying “he was a troubled man.”
All of that being said, there was actually a plethora of information hiding all those years. I found letters and photos and even some Super 8 and VHS footage from family gatherings where the tall and admittedly intimidating presence of Roland showed up.
It was a good deal of work to scan and upload all of this, especially the hassle of digitizing all the footage, but I have to thank my girlfriend Marissa for handling the lion’s share of this, as I didn’t want to learn too much prior to my meeting the virtual Roland, my hope being he could tell me about his life “himself”. The app made connection to all available public records very easy, with just a few lines of information, and coupled with all we could find and scan ourselves, we were finally ready to go.
It was a weirdly scary moment. All I had left to do was click the little cutely drawn headstone button labeled “Resurrect”. The cartoon style they have chosen would have you believe this is just another fun game, and not a potentially seriously emotional endeavor. I guess that’s just good marketing.
I hadn’t been close to this man, I had only a couple interactions with him when he was alive, but the image of him laying in that coffin was still quite clear all these decades later. He had been bloated and waxy, hardly human to my eyes. To my parent’s credit, they had tried to keep me in the other room, away from that visual, but I had snuck a peek anyway. I pushed the thought away and pressed “Resurrect”.
An animated ghost floated out of the grave, a loading bar at the bottom slowly filling up. The smile on the spirit’s face said there was nothing to fear. Then the meter rapidly moved toward 100% and I held my breath.
The screen switched over to a live feed from my phone’s camera, the program using augmented reality to make it feel like the “ghost” is in the room with you. At first the room was just empty, a view of my living room, and then I blinked and he was there.
Standing back lit against the fading afternoon sun pouring in my bay window, was the towering outline of a man. I’m embarrassed to say, but I actually jumped back a step and let out a sound that wasn’t quite a scream. The imaging quality was so realistic, utilizing dynamic real time photogrammetry, you would swear there was really a person standing there.
“Hello Gordon.” the ghost said perfectly.
I recognized the voice from part of a toast Roland had made on one of the tapes. He had a slight southern drawl, having spent some of his early years in Georgia, before moving to New Jersey for the remainder of his life where most of that twang had leveled out. “It’s good to see you again. Been quite awhile.”
I was speechless.
He smiled a toothy grin filled with tobacco stained teeth. The detail was astounding.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he said.
“Of course, yes, sorry. Hello! This is all just a bit strange.” I said.
“Hell yes it’s strange. Last time I saw you was when you were about this high.” he said, holding a palm down to his knee, neither of which were actually there.
“Right, right…” I said.
“So this is your house?” he asked.
“Yes. Bought this just last year.”
“It’s nice. You must be doing well for yourself.” he said.
“Yeah, I am.” I said (But could always do a little better Graham! Haha wink wink)
“So… Why’d you bring me back? What do you want to know?” Roland asked.
“Uhh… What year were you born?” I asked, figuring I would just start with some softball stuff and see what would happen.
“1922. 26th of May to be exact. What year is it now?”
A funny question since obviously Lazarus has access to literally every piece of information on the internet, the least of which being today’s date. One of the built in quirks to make the experience feel more real I suppose.
“It’s 2023.”
Roland whistled. “Jesus. Time flies huh?”
“That it does.”
“How’s your dad doing?” he asked.
I was taken aback. I don’t know why, but I hadn’t anticipated the conversation to go like this. These are the kinds of questions and repartee natural when catching up with someone real, but I guess I expected something more stilted and robotic. Just a machine to ask questions. I don’t know why, but I guess the truth just hurt too much. So I lied.
“Yeah, he’s doing fine.” I said.
Roland looked at me a little funny, I swear. He would know from the records my father was dead, could even have recited back his autopsy verbatim if he wanted. Instead he just went with it.
“That’s good to hear, good to hear… Always liked your Dad. He’s a good man.”
I swallowed hard and changed the subject. “I’d love to hear some stories from when you were growing up.”
Roland walked over to the armchair and took a seat with a sigh, sinking into the cushion. It was so convincing I had to look past the phone to be sure, and of course in reality his body left no more of a depression in the cushion than a shadow would. He was both there and not there.
We spoke for a couple hours. Stories of my grandparents and the house he grew up in, the very same house passed on to me by my father, that I was now considering putting on the market but still hadn’t been able to pull the trigger on a decision. The past is a powerful thing, and staring at my long dead uncle, I wondered if you can ever truly leave it behind.
Day 2
This morning I felt some of the initial shock of meeting Uncle Roland had worn off. It certainly is still unusual, but I think today I was able to enjoy the experience a bit more for what it is, which especially in this case is almost like living history.
I never got to know my uncle really, and discussing the family history told from his point of view, has been pretty exciting. Of course, everything has to be taken with a big grain of salt, and even the fine print on the Lazarus website emphasizes this fact, making it clear this is for “entertainment purposes only”, despite what the other benefits are they may proclaim.
“Roland, how would you like to go for a ride? I could bring you by the old house.”
“The one I grew up in?” he asked.
“Yeah. Your brother left it to my dad.” I said.
“Yes. I would love that.”
We hopped in the Tesla and Lazarus paired with the car. Using the GPS info, Roland was giving me a play by play of the town and the spots that meant something to him.
“There’s where I went to school.”
“Super G, you know back when it was Acme I used to bag groceries there before the war. Of course it looked a lot different back then!”
“There’s the church where I got married. Your Aunt Mary and I were only 18. I don’t know what we were thinking! And the cemetery around back is…” His voice faltered.
“Yeah… Most of the family is out there. Don’t worry. You’re not alone.” I said.
“Yes. I know… I’m sorry about your father.” he said. So he did know then. Of course he did. “Thanks.”
We finally pulled up to the old family home. The lawn needs mowing, even if it was mostly weeds and large polka dot patches of dirt. I need to be better about maintenance, it’s just not easy going back there. I had moved back in when Dad was sick. The place holds a lot of memories, but most of them aren’t great. Not even really sure why I brought Roland.
We walked inside. Dust motes and the scent of mothballs hung in the afternoon light. There was still enough of Dad’s personality left on the walls and crammed bookshelves to make the empty promise he might some day return, or that perhaps he even was just in the other room taking his nap. It felt horrible as always. This trip had been a mistake.
“Not an easy thing is it?” Roland asked.
“Life?” I replied. “No. No, it is not.”
He “stood” in the center of the den from where I watched on my phone screen. He looked around the room where generations of my family had gathered. Memories stolen from our Polaroids and scratchy videos, filling his mind.
“Birthdays, Christmas, Halloween. A lot of good times right in this room.” “Sure were.” I said.
“A lot of sadness here too.” he said.
I nodded.
“Your great grandfather’s wake was here. Casket sat right along that wall.” he said.
“Really?” I asked.
“Oh sure. And a son who died at childbirth, plus all the previous owners family too, all here. Everyone did it that way back then.”
He pulled a virtual stack of photos from his pocket (out of the digital archive) and showed me the lifeless faces of a half dozen relatives and neighbors long dead before even my father was born, china dolls in shiny wooden boxes. It was gruesome.
“You’d never know it standing here now.” he said.
“Not at all. It’s crazy.” I said.
“Yeah… houses are good at keeping secrets…” he winked. “So long as you get rid of the bodies that is!”
He cackled long and hard, coughing to catch his breath in lungs that weren’t even there.
Day 3
Introducing a boyfriend or girlfriend to your family is always a nerve racking affair. Today I decided it was time for Marissa to meet Roland.
She’s never met any of my family before, so for her first interaction with my kin to be the virtual representation of my decades-long deceased great uncle… it was strange to say the least.
I booted up the app.
“Uncle Roland, I’d like you to meet someone very special to me. This is my girlfriend Marissa.”
Marissa and I were sat looking at my phone as Roland got up from what I was starting to think of as his armchair. He stood and gave a nod in her direction.
“A pleasure to meet you.” he said with all the gentlemanly swagger of his era. Marissa waved at my phone screen with a smile.
Roland’s eyes widened and he whistled. “Well, well, well. My nephew knows how to pick ‘em! You, young lady, are gorgeous!”
Marissa blushed.
“That she is! A wonderful person inside and out.” I said.
“Tell me, what’s your nationality Marissa?” he asked.
Marissa looked at me and laughed a little. This was starting to feel very much like really meeting an older relative.
“Greek and Italian.” she said.
“There must be something else mixed in there. You have a very exotic look about you. That’s a good thing though, don’t worry. I’ve always been partial to the dark haired ladies like yourself.”
“Oh well, thank you…” Marissa said.
“You’re very welcome.” Roland replied.
There was nothing “virtual” about the awkwardness hanging in the air. Roland couldn’t take his eyes off of her. They flicked back and forth in his wrinkled face, searching over her as if taking in every detail.
“Was your wife a brunette too?” Marissa asked.
His face changed ever so slightly. Was it sadness?
“She was, yes. A beautiful woman, Mary. She and I certainly had our differences, but… I loved her.”
“I don’t think I ever met Aunt Mary.” I said.
“No. You wouldn’t have. She died before you were born.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?” I asked.
“She had an accident.” he said as he sat back down in his chair, a dark cloud clearly over him now.
“She liked to drink, you see. I did too, but she let it get the best of her. There really wasn’t much I could do. Of course some people thought it was my fault. But, I know the truth. Some people are good and some are just bad. No point in crying about it. It’s just nature.”
I wanted to ask more, but it was no different than if he had an actual pulse. It felt too raw for him. I didn’t want to push the matter any further. There was some more small talk for a bit. Then as we were saying our goodbyes, Marissa had an idea.
“We should get a photo of you two together.” she said.
“Ah, that’s a good idea.” I said. “We’ll need one for the article.”
I handed the phone over to Marissa and walked over next to where Roland “was” as she framed up the shot.
“Roland, if you could stand up next to Gordon. Yeah, great. And maybe put your arms around his shoulder if you can.”
“Like this?” Roland asked.
I felt goosebumps raise along my arms. Physically nothing had happened, yet I felt him somehow. The mind is a powerful thing.
“Perfect.” Marissa said. She took several photos and turned it around for me to see. It looked almost as real as any other picture I had ever taken. Amazing, but also terrifying in a lot of ways.
“Now one with me and the pretty young lady.” he said.
Marissa shrugged at me. “Sure.”
I turned the camera around and watched as Roland slid in behind Marissa, both hands wrapping around her shoulders in an embrace she was completely oblivious too.
“You didn’t think you were going to get away from me that easily did you?” he said. “Old men like me need to take any chance they can to be seen with a beautiful girl.”
She smiled for the picture, but I could tell that the novelty of this experience was over for her.
DAY 4
I’ve been slowly building up to asking Roland about why he and my father had a falling out.
I knew that once we dove into this area there would be a certain amount of emotions that I had to deal with. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but after the revelation yesterday about Aunt Mary, it felt like the time.
I can’t be sure he’ll even know about this since he’s not the actual Roland (a fact I keep having to remind myself), but we scanned quite a few handwritten letters between them from over the years, so I figured there might be some answers there.
“Uncle Roland…did something happen between you and my Dad?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he just wouldn’t tell me much about you. It seems like maybe you had been close at one point and then something changed.”
“Hmm… well, families are complicated things.” he said.
“And my mother once referred to you as troubled…” I said, timidly.
This person in front of me was nothing more than so many ones and zeroes, and yet I was embarrassed to bring this all up, worried about his “feelings”.
He chuckled, which was a bit unnerving.
“I don’t think your mother ever really cared for me. As for your father, he didn’t approve of the way I made a living, which I can understand, but it really wasn’t any of his business.”
“What did you do?”
He hesitated. The little subtleties in the model were astounding. Somewhere in Roland’s profile the algorithm had picked up on his reluctance to speak about his work. He was cagey. This really made the other AI competitors out there look like a freaking Speak N’ Spell in comparison.
“I don’t imagine you’ll feel any different than your father did.” he said.
“I’m not judging you. Just tell me.”
“Well, I had a bunch of different jobs over the years, construction, bus driver, even worked for the post office for a while, but obviously none of those were the issue. The thing is, I was kind of a bookie. Nothing big time, we were in a small town after all, just took a couple bets, ran a few backroom poker games, that kind of thing.”
“And Dad didn’t like that?”
“No, he did not. The whole thing was ridiculous and blown way out of proportion. There were some cops who had it out for me, disgruntled customers of mine. They brought me in on phony charges and I got put away for a few months in county while I awaited trial. The judge saw it was all bullshit though and the whole thing eventually got thrown out. When I got home though, the family never treated me the same again. I knew they were ashamed of me.”
“I see… and what did Aunt Mary think of all that?” I asked as the dark cloud returned to his face.
“She was gone by that point.” he said. “And good riddance honestly. She was just a fucking snake. Same as everyone else. People act all holier than thou, but they’re all just as filthy as the next person. I did the things I had to do to survive! I didn’t apologize for it then and I’m not going to now.”
He looked ready to explode.
“Did… did you hurt people?”
“What do you mean? Like the Japs I shot in the war?”
His eyes were drilling holes in my head. I couldn’t feel the screen between us anymore. I took a deep breath.
“No, like people who owed you money… or Aunt Mary…”
He clicked his neck from one side to the other, rolling his eyes in a contained rage.
“No.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Was he upset? Seething over offensive accusations? Or was he just a chat bot playing its part? Waiting for my next question…
“Are you going to be writing about all this?” he asked.
I was startled. “Well, yes. I’m reviewing the software that’s allowing me to speak to you. You know, for the magazine I told you about.”
He stood up and walked forward, looming large in the frame, till he was right over me.
“I mean the stuff that should stay just between family. I don’t want you out there airing out my dirty laundry and tarnishing my name. I was a veteran and a damn good man. I don’t need people thinking anything different.”
I felt every hair on my body stand up. Where was this coming from? Lazarus had obviously picked up personality traits from all available data, enabling this attitude, but up till now I believed the program would remain passive, answering questions more or less. This was proactive. Roland was asking me to do something.
“Just keep my name out of your fucking beak. You hear me?”
I frantically shut Lazarus down and threw my phone. It was a good long while before I caught my breath.
DAY 5
I’m leaving Lazarus and Uncle Roland off until I get some more answers. Last night scared the shit out of me. Today I need to play catch up.
I’ve avoided even a cursory Google search of my uncle up till now, to fully embrace this experiment of getting to know him through Lazarus. The last time I ever even thought about him before now was when I was a kid, and I’m wondering if perhaps I should have done at least some research. What happens when you recreate a bad person? Some things should remain buried, or in this case I guess, just stay in The Cloud.
I’ve been at it for hours. You can easily access all the personal data of your ghost through the app, and what I’ve read so far has been disturbing.
It seems Roland is far less innocent than he would let on, which that alone is unnerving. I know the program is meant to mimic the actual person’s personality, but does this include deception? After his words to me last night, I have to wonder, will it go as far as violence? Surely the developers will have built in safeguards, and perhaps this is nothing more than a texture, a flavor. A dog that’s all bark and no bite. I certainly hope so.
Because Roland in life was definitely a violent man.
The police records show multiple misdemeanors for drunk and disorderly conduct, assault and battery, and finally… he was arrested on suspicion for the murder of his wife. While he was ultimately acquitted after the case was dismissed for lack of evidence, the case file on this is long and compelling.
Mary Willis was found dead at the bottom of her own front steps, August 9, 1972. The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the skull. The operating theory being she had fallen and hit her head on one of the brick steps while drunk.
While Mary was a known alcoholic, her blood alcohol levels were found to be quite low. In addition, her injuries and the manner in which she was found did not correspond properly to the scene, which left a great deal of doubt about this being an accident.
The house sat on a rural parcel at the edge of town, and if it had been a murder, there were no witnesses to the crime.
Tracy Burgess, a neighbor returning a borrowed pie pan, discovered Mary at approximately 12:45pm and immediately called the police. When asked about Mary’s husband Roland, who still could not be located, Tracy described him as a normally friendly man, though at times he was given to “an awful temper”.
Roland returned home several hours later, around 5:30pm, where officers informed him about his wife’s demise and brought him in for questioning. The officers found his attitude to be very incongruous with a man who just learned of his wife’s death.
TRANSCRIPT - LAKEVIEW POLICE DEPT.
Detective Knotts: So you’re saying the last time you saw Mary was yesterday before leaving for work at approximately 8am?
Mr. Roland Willis: What can I say? I love my wife, but she was a dumb drunk bitch. And jealous to boot! She was mad I’m sure that I was going out with the guys after work and she must have drank herself blind and tripped and fell. It’s horrible. Just fucking horrible. But it’s an accident, pure and simple. I was out all night with John Block and Sam Ewett. Ask them. We all ended up staying over Sam’s after we left the bar.
Detective Knotts: Where’d you get that cut on your hand Roland?
Mr. Roland Willis: Me and the boys got pretty plastered. There was a good deal of horsing around while watching the game. You know, just the typical bullshit that went a bit too far.
Roland was arrested two weeks later for the murder, though the case never made it to court. A bloody handkerchief was found in the woods near the home, but without DNA forensics at the time, and no murder weapon to speak of, there was no way to prove anything. Roland’s friends backed up his alibi, and Mary, a woman who no one listened to anyway, was silenced forever.
Except… times have changed.
I submitted my DNA at the beginning of this project to help build out my Lazarus profile. The idea is you might learn about new relatives and then meet new ghosts the more you uncover. Each one you “resurrect” comes with a surcharge on top of the monthly fee, so the bigger the digital cemetery, the better for Sigil’s bottom-line.
As more and more cold cases are being solved through DNA and ancestry sites, police have been cataloging and connecting to these databases on the chance of a hit. But much of the evidence for unsolved crimes remains at the bottom of dusty boxes awaiting modern day analysis and digitizing, unless prompted by external forces.
Like getting a phone tip to re-examine the case…which is what I did this afternoon.
I explained the situation and exactly where the police could access my information. The detective I spoke to seemed very intrigued by the whole thing and promised to look into it.
There is a certain futility to this, given if Roland really is responsible, then there’s no punishment to dole out, but perhaps just making the truth known will be at least some form of justice. After all, from what I gather from his ghost, he certainly wouldn’t like that.
DAY 8
Roland has remained shut off the last few days as we await the DNA results from the police. I really wanted all my ducks in a row before I switch him back on.
Marissa and I have been going through all of my family archives to try and understand what’s happening. My dust allergies have been killing me as we search the boxes. I’m all puffy eyes and rattled nerves these days.
Reading letters, watching home movies, it all paints the portrait of a very complicated man.
Beloved by some, despised by many. There is a plaque given to him by the volunteer fire company for all of his generous donations, yet there is a letter from his brother accusing him of burning down a neighbor’s shed for pissing him off. He coached my father’s little league, and yet there are stories he threatened people with the very same bats. By all accounts he was both a great uncle, and a real monster.
The call came in Thursday night from Detective Montgomery.
In addition to the blood from Aunt Mary’s head that stained her dress, there is someone else’s there, as well as on the handkerchief from the woods. A very close match to my own DNA, a relative, my uncle’s no doubt.
They can’t be 100% positive without exhuming Roland’s body and taking a sample, but they are going to get to the bottom of this. Apparently Mary still has some living cousins and nieces who are alive and knew her. We owe it to her memory and her family.
My heart was an anvil in my chest. For decades this horrible family secret had been right there below the surface, festering. How many had known, but either just couldn’t prove it, or chose to ignore it? I had never even met this woman, and my only memories of her murderer were blurry half images from when I was a very young child. I bore none of the guilt, yet I felt a heavy burden of responsibility. I shared blood with this man, and that must still count for something.
I thanked the detective and hung up. It was time for another conversation.
Looking back on it now, I really can’t say what I was hoping to achieve by talking to “Roland” again. There could never be a clear answer for the man’s motivation, and certainly I couldn’t punish his fake ghost, but yet I felt I needed to try.
I tapped the Lazarus symbol with its dumb smiling Casper knockoff.
“Look who it is.” said Roland. “You’ve been busy these last few days haven’t you?”
Did he already know everything I had been doing?
“Yeah well it turns out digging through the amount of dirt there is on you can take quite a while. I needed two hands to shovel.” I quipped like some stupid movie character.
“Clever” he sneered. “And what did you find?”
“Is there really a point to listing it all out? It’s nothing you don’t already know. Except maybe the call I just got from the Lakeview Police Department. Seems like they have enough evidence now to dig your bones up and prove once and for all you killed your wife.”
“You would do that to family?” he asked.
“You’re no family of mine.” I said.
“You fucking rat!” he screamed, the sound deafening.
It came from all around me. I was so stunned and confused I didn’t know what to do. It was like being yelled at by the voice of God. Then I realized. He had connected to my surround sound speakers, and nearly blown them out from the sound of it.
He smiled at me with those hideously crooked and stained teeth, while my ears were ringing and felt ready to bleed. His next words were calm and nearly a whisper in comparison.
“Well, they say you only hurt the ones you love. I guess we’ll see.”
And before I could say anything else, he was gone.
Lazarus had shut down all on its own.
PART TWO https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15yhhfl/lazarus_new_ai_app_allows_users_to_speak_with/