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Digital Therapy
“Box contains one (1) familiar. Rx only. For the treatment of antisocial disorders, isolation syndrome, or mild to moderate cases of PTSD. Use only as directed.”
Alice cut open the box with her boxcutters, and pulled the contents out. Inside quite a lot of styrofoam was what appeared to be a sleeping fox, along with a remote control and a rather thick instruction manual. She worked her way through the manual, setting up the charging station, checking all the settings, and installing the batteries, until she got to the last page.
“Warning!” it read. “Familiar cannot speak. If familiar appears to speak, seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY.”
“Huh.” She checked to make sure there was nothing on the back of the page, and then shrugged. She hit a button on the remote.
The little fox’s eyes fluttered open, and then it leaps to its feet. With an odd yapping sound that wasn’t quite canine, it hopped up into her arms, nuzzling up against her with all the affection of an old, dear pet.
“Oh, uh…” She gave the thing a hesitant squeeze. “Hello, little guy. What’s your name?” It yapped at her, nibbling on one of her fingers. “Right. Cranking the whole cute thing up to eleven, I guess.” She held the fox up in front of her, looking at its cute face and little whiskers. “I’ll call you Puff. Do you like that?”
Puff nuzzled against her hand. “Right,” Alice said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Well, Puff. You’re my new pet, because the doctor says I’m so fucked up in the head that at this point, my only hope is making friends with robots. Do you like that?”
He made a bow-wow sound that she interpreted as liking it, and wiggled out of her hands to go explore the apartment. Alice sighed, and went back to her computer, scanning the article on encryption standards she’d started yesterday. She was well into it when Puff hopped up into her lap, curling up and tucking in his paws until his body resembled a little loaf of bread with a tail and a head.
“Hi,” Alice said, stiffly. She gave him a pat. “Uh, yes. Very friendly. But I’m coding now. We’ll play later.” She picked him up, and put him on the floor, turning back to her work.
He hopped up into her lap again, digging his claws down into her jeans. The edges were dull and the tips rounded, making it a more symbolic act than anything, but she still hesitated to pick him up again.
“Well, fine,” she said after a moment. “But I’m working so you’ll have to stay there.”
And he did, sitting in her lap as she alternated between studying and working on her code for the next six hours. Eventually, it grew dark outside, and her eyelids started to droop. It was only when she got up to stand that she even remembered he was there. She gave him a few experimental pats, and a scratch behind the ear, and then put him to one side so she could get ready for bed.
He snuggled up under the covers with her, and touched his nose to hers.
Things continued that way the next day, then for the next week, then for the next month. Puff sat in Alice’s lap, and bothered her for attention, and curled up under her sheets every day. He watched her code and study for hours on end, eat boxes of soylent bars, crash into bed and then do it all again. He was always with her. She only left the apartment once the whole time, when the bank locked her account by mistake and insisted she show up in person to clear it up. She hugged him to her chest the whole time they were in the waiting room, and cried when they got home.
The next morning, she could barely get out of bed. She slept through two remote meetings, and missed a final deliverable for a client. She sniffled quietly to herself and held Puff against her.
“I don’t think you’re broken, Alice,” he said, “I just think you’re afraid, and need a friend to help you.”
Instantly, her sniffling stopped. Her eyes went wide. She looked down at Puff, his little vulpine face sticking out from under the covers. “Can I be your friend?”
She stared at him. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes,” she whispered, wrapping him up tight in her arms.
Alice cut open the box with her boxcutters, and pulled the contents out. Inside quite a lot of styrofoam was what appeared to be a sleeping fox, along with a remote control and a rather thick instruction manual. She worked her way through the manual, setting up the charging station, checking all the settings, and installing the batteries, until she got to the last page.
“Warning!” it read. “Familiar cannot speak. If familiar appears to speak, seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY.”
“Huh.” She checked to make sure there was nothing on the back of the page, and then shrugged. She hit a button on the remote.
The little fox’s eyes fluttered open, and then it leaps to its feet. With an odd yapping sound that wasn’t quite canine, it hopped up into her arms, nuzzling up against her with all the affection of an old, dear pet.
“Oh, uh…” She gave the thing a hesitant squeeze. “Hello, little guy. What’s your name?” It yapped at her, nibbling on one of her fingers. “Right. Cranking the whole cute thing up to eleven, I guess.” She held the fox up in front of her, looking at its cute face and little whiskers. “I’ll call you Puff. Do you like that?”
Puff nuzzled against her hand. “Right,” Alice said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Well, Puff. You’re my new pet, because the doctor says I’m so fucked up in the head that at this point, my only hope is making friends with robots. Do you like that?”
He made a bow-wow sound that she interpreted as liking it, and wiggled out of her hands to go explore the apartment. Alice sighed, and went back to her computer, scanning the article on encryption standards she’d started yesterday. She was well into it when Puff hopped up into her lap, curling up and tucking in his paws until his body resembled a little loaf of bread with a tail and a head.
“Hi,” Alice said, stiffly. She gave him a pat. “Uh, yes. Very friendly. But I’m coding now. We’ll play later.” She picked him up, and put him on the floor, turning back to her work.
He hopped up into her lap again, digging his claws down into her jeans. The edges were dull and the tips rounded, making it a more symbolic act than anything, but she still hesitated to pick him up again.
“Well, fine,” she said after a moment. “But I’m working so you’ll have to stay there.”
And he did, sitting in her lap as she alternated between studying and working on her code for the next six hours. Eventually, it grew dark outside, and her eyelids started to droop. It was only when she got up to stand that she even remembered he was there. She gave him a few experimental pats, and a scratch behind the ear, and then put him to one side so she could get ready for bed.
He snuggled up under the covers with her, and touched his nose to hers.
Things continued that way the next day, then for the next week, then for the next month. Puff sat in Alice’s lap, and bothered her for attention, and curled up under her sheets every day. He watched her code and study for hours on end, eat boxes of soylent bars, crash into bed and then do it all again. He was always with her. She only left the apartment once the whole time, when the bank locked her account by mistake and insisted she show up in person to clear it up. She hugged him to her chest the whole time they were in the waiting room, and cried when they got home.
The next morning, she could barely get out of bed. She slept through two remote meetings, and missed a final deliverable for a client. She sniffled quietly to herself and held Puff against her.
“I don’t think you’re broken, Alice,” he said, “I just think you’re afraid, and need a friend to help you.”
Instantly, her sniffling stopped. Her eyes went wide. She looked down at Puff, his little vulpine face sticking out from under the covers. “Can I be your friend?”
She stared at him. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes,” she whispered, wrapping him up tight in her arms.
This was a triumph; I'm making a note here, huge success...
Ahem, sorry.
Snarky companion cube comparisons aside, I feel like this story is lacking resolution. Not that we necessarily need more story, but at the beginning, the prompt is thrown in with that stern warning.
In the ending, when that recurs, I didn't feel like I was given enough context/meaning to decipher what exactly is being said. Is the MC now insane? Is the world, perhaps, insane? Is she cured? Is something else going on?
I just don't know. So when I say 'more resolution', I don't necessarily mean more words. What I want is more meaning, what ever that... means, I think.
Cute, but not as weighty as I think it should be.
Look at me still talking when there's reading to do...
Ahem, sorry.
Snarky companion cube comparisons aside, I feel like this story is lacking resolution. Not that we necessarily need more story, but at the beginning, the prompt is thrown in with that stern warning.
In the ending, when that recurs, I didn't feel like I was given enough context/meaning to decipher what exactly is being said. Is the MC now insane? Is the world, perhaps, insane? Is she cured? Is something else going on?
I just don't know. So when I say 'more resolution', I don't necessarily mean more words. What I want is more meaning, what ever that... means, I think.
Cute, but not as weighty as I think it should be.
Look at me still talking when there's reading to do...
And with this, every story's got two reviews!
My heart twinged at this line. Nicely done.
Ah, Alice is one of those programmers.
I agree with !Hat, this was definitely executing well on its premise but felt like it stumbled in the ending. My takeaway was that Alice snapped due to the really bad day at work, and was basically so far gone that not even the familiar could help her out of it, though that really makes me wonder: if this is such a common phenomenon that the familiar has a prominent warning about it, it sort of defies belief that she wouldn't be aware of the possibility, and evaluate its actions in that context. It doesn't necessarily ring false that she would reject the medical advice and embrace her insanity — and I think that's what you were going for; and I think you're almost there — but I think what this needs for its full impact is for her to directly confront that possibility and decide to embrace the insanity on-screen, rather than leave that implied. Because the tragedy of her retreating even further is the point of this piece, the climax, and an offscreen climax leaves this really muted.
That said, this is an effective character piece and a good arc for the short space. Even flawed, it's one of the stronger stories I've read so far — it stays exactly focused on what it wants to do, it's just missing its biggest beat. Fix that and this'll be great.
Tier: Strong
"Well, Puff. You’re my new pet, because the doctor says I’m so fucked up in the head that at this point, my only hope is making friends with robots."
My heart twinged at this line. Nicely done.
eat boxes of soylent bars
Ah, Alice is one of those programmers.
I agree with !Hat, this was definitely executing well on its premise but felt like it stumbled in the ending. My takeaway was that Alice snapped due to the really bad day at work, and was basically so far gone that not even the familiar could help her out of it, though that really makes me wonder: if this is such a common phenomenon that the familiar has a prominent warning about it, it sort of defies belief that she wouldn't be aware of the possibility, and evaluate its actions in that context. It doesn't necessarily ring false that she would reject the medical advice and embrace her insanity — and I think that's what you were going for; and I think you're almost there — but I think what this needs for its full impact is for her to directly confront that possibility and decide to embrace the insanity on-screen, rather than leave that implied. Because the tragedy of her retreating even further is the point of this piece, the climax, and an offscreen climax leaves this really muted.
That said, this is an effective character piece and a good arc for the short space. Even flawed, it's one of the stronger stories I've read so far — it stays exactly focused on what it wants to do, it's just missing its biggest beat. Fix that and this'll be great.
Tier: Strong
Alternate title: Her for Furries
(I kid, I kid)
I think you did well characterizing Alice in the few words you had, although there isn't much here to differentiate her from the loads of other abrasive/depressed female protagonists we see a lot in fiction nowadays. Alice, along with the concept of the familiars, reminded me of the book Zoo City—however, that might just be because I just finished reading it. :V
We're this to be expanded, I'd like to see more of how Alice interacts with the rest of the world—scenes, rather than just quick summaries. What makes her unique?
The mention of the soylent bars felt cheap to me. Like, "this is a sci-fi fic set in the future—of course we gotta have people eating soylent." It feels forced in what's otherwise a rather genuine piece.
Like others, the ending didn't work for me (and I apologize if the point I'm about to make has been made by Horizon—I can't read spoiler text on my phone without doing work). When you introduced the "Familiar should not be speaking concept," it became immediately obvious that the fox was gonna start talking. Then we get to the end, and the big climactic reveal is that the fox has started talking and...? Nothing. So the ending doesn't have any weight, because we already knew everything that was coming. The piece ends without answering what Puff talking means for Alice's future, which is the important part.
Final Verdict: I miss my cats
(I kid, I kid)
I think you did well characterizing Alice in the few words you had, although there isn't much here to differentiate her from the loads of other abrasive/depressed female protagonists we see a lot in fiction nowadays. Alice, along with the concept of the familiars, reminded me of the book Zoo City—however, that might just be because I just finished reading it. :V
We're this to be expanded, I'd like to see more of how Alice interacts with the rest of the world—scenes, rather than just quick summaries. What makes her unique?
The mention of the soylent bars felt cheap to me. Like, "this is a sci-fi fic set in the future—of course we gotta have people eating soylent." It feels forced in what's otherwise a rather genuine piece.
Like others, the ending didn't work for me (and I apologize if the point I'm about to make has been made by Horizon—I can't read spoiler text on my phone without doing work). When you introduced the "Familiar should not be speaking concept," it became immediately obvious that the fox was gonna start talking. Then we get to the end, and the big climactic reveal is that the fox has started talking and...? Nothing. So the ending doesn't have any weight, because we already knew everything that was coming. The piece ends without answering what Puff talking means for Alice's future, which is the important part.
Final Verdict: I miss my cats
>>Dubs_Rewatcher
Were you aware that Soylent is an actual product? (Named, possibly unironically, after the sci-fi staple.) I feel pretty confident in asserting on the author's behalf that its mention wasn't intended as "hey this is generic sci-fi future" but as a verisimilitude name-drop, as Soylent is primarily big among hardcore tech crowds.
Were you aware that Soylent is an actual product? (Named, possibly unironically, after the sci-fi staple.) I feel pretty confident in asserting on the author's behalf that its mention wasn't intended as "hey this is generic sci-fi future" but as a verisimilitude name-drop, as Soylent is primarily big among hardcore tech crowds.
Digital Therapy — B+ — Cute as a baby fox. A little stilted with the writing in places, (opening box with box cutter looks funny, even though thats what you do) but sweeps along to the ending. I wonder if those familiars *actually* talk if they determine the patient is so over the edge they need a real doctor.
The “robot pal” story is one I’ve seen done plenty of times before, but this one was actually fairly enjoyable to read. The idea that these bots are made in more “cuddly” forms to aid with therapy really harkens to the idea of therapy dogs, and the decision to have it as a fox specifically was a cute choice. I also liked the ambiguity of Alice’s condition. It’s clear it affects her pretty heavily, but the specifics are kept vague enough to make us really wonder what’s wrong with her. This really helped make the story feel uneasy, like there was some sort of sinister undertone that would break loose at any moment.
The story only really has one problem, but it’s a very big one: the ending. The progression from reluctant user to thinking Puff is talking to her might’ve worked with more build-up. However, the story’s short length and the large amount of words used to convey their first day together really shot this aspect in the foot. As is, the final few sentences feel really rushed, pretty much passing over the events that lead to her final breakdown and acceptance of Puff. This is probably more an issue of limited wordspace than story structure, but it’s an issue nevertheless.
A decent sci-fi story that stumbles only in its ending.
The story only really has one problem, but it’s a very big one: the ending. The progression from reluctant user to thinking Puff is talking to her might’ve worked with more build-up. However, the story’s short length and the large amount of words used to convey their first day together really shot this aspect in the foot. As is, the final few sentences feel really rushed, pretty much passing over the events that lead to her final breakdown and acceptance of Puff. This is probably more an issue of limited wordspace than story structure, but it’s an issue nevertheless.
A decent sci-fi story that stumbles only in its ending.
The Great
Honestly, I kind of want to steal this idea. Just very well conceptualized. It isn't groundbreaking or new, per se, but it just works quite well.
The Rough
Boy that ending is a downer. Which puts this in a slightly awkward position to me, because I'm not sure that's what the story actually wanted to do? Ultimately, this feels like a story that exceeds it's word count. The ambiguity about whether this is a severe downer or a potentially uplifting escape is unsatisfying. That said, I would love to see a short story version of this instead, because I think the minific format just doesn't quite do what you wanted to tell justice.
Honestly, I kind of want to steal this idea. Just very well conceptualized. It isn't groundbreaking or new, per se, but it just works quite well.
The Rough
Boy that ending is a downer. Which puts this in a slightly awkward position to me, because I'm not sure that's what the story actually wanted to do? Ultimately, this feels like a story that exceeds it's word count. The ambiguity about whether this is a severe downer or a potentially uplifting escape is unsatisfying. That said, I would love to see a short story version of this instead, because I think the minific format just doesn't quite do what you wanted to tell justice.
Hmmm… I can’t help but thinking of Asimov’s Robbie story.
This was nice, besides I like foxes. I have a fox plush at home I like a lot.
My only gripes would be:
1. Alice feels a bit generic;
2. You give your ending away at the beginning. Granted, it’s difficult not to do so, given that the idea of a talking pet juts out from the rest of the story. But by directing our attention on the alleged danger of a talking pet, you almost reveal the conclusion beforehand.
A cute story, if not very original.
This was nice, besides I like foxes. I have a fox plush at home I like a lot.
My only gripes would be:
1. Alice feels a bit generic;
2. You give your ending away at the beginning. Granted, it’s difficult not to do so, given that the idea of a talking pet juts out from the rest of the story. But by directing our attention on the alleged danger of a talking pet, you almost reveal the conclusion beforehand.
A cute story, if not very original.
>>Not_A_Hat
>>horizon
>>Dubs_Rewatcher
>>georg
>>AndrewRogue
>>libertydude
>>Monokeras
There was a line I cut from this story, because I thought it was too blunt. The original last line of the story.
"She never let go."
That line is totally going back in when I clean this up for release. To be clear, the canon ending is that this is the story of an agoraphobic young woman who self-medicates until she dies of a brain aneurysm caused by a bad reaction to her prescription-strength treatment.
Every time someone calls this story "Cute" is a moment I cringe with the weight of failure!
>>horizon
>>Dubs_Rewatcher
>>georg
>>AndrewRogue
>>libertydude
>>Monokeras
Retrospective: Digital Therapy
There was a line I cut from this story, because I thought it was too blunt. The original last line of the story.
"She never let go."
That line is totally going back in when I clean this up for release. To be clear, the canon ending is that this is the story of an agoraphobic young woman who self-medicates until she dies of a brain aneurysm caused by a bad reaction to her prescription-strength treatment.
Every time someone calls this story "Cute" is a moment I cringe with the weight of failure!
>>GaPJaxie Ok, this is the inverse to the rule that I just wrote about sometimes you can't explain something enough in a story for everybody to get it.
Sometimes the author has a mental image of a story that they write that has no real concrete connection to the story actually written.
No pills, no signs of physical illness, and yet how would we ever guess that she's self-medicating, or dies of a brain aneurysm? Severe agoraphobia, yes. Drops dead from a stroke, huh?
Sometimes the author has a mental image of a story that they write that has no real concrete connection to the story actually written.
No pills, no signs of physical illness, and yet how would we ever guess that she's self-medicating, or dies of a brain aneurysm? Severe agoraphobia, yes. Drops dead from a stroke, huh?
>>GaPJaxie
Hah. That was something I considered commenting on: the box descriptions were -really- weird given it was an object, not actual medicine, but kinda wrote it off as just weird sci-fi. Definitely needs a bit more clarification if that's the route you're going.
Hah. That was something I considered commenting on: the box descriptions were -really- weird given it was an object, not actual medicine, but kinda wrote it off as just weird sci-fi. Definitely needs a bit more clarification if that's the route you're going.
>>GaPJaxie In the context of your story, an Rx (prescription only) warning was provided for what we the reader sees as a physical device "For the treatment of antisocial disorders, isolation syndrome, or mild to moderate cases of PTSD" which sounds an awful lot like providing a child with a rather complex (prescription strength) teddy bear in a medical emergency ward, meaning that this physical thing provides emotional comfort to someone who is mentally imbalanced. That's actually very plausible in the context of the story.
I liked this story (I voted it 3rd on my list, behind the top two winners), and if Alice was actually overdosing on an actual medicine, and the entire story was the result of a stroke-induced hallucination followed by death, then I just have to applaud you. But I have to agree with Georg: there weren't enough clues to indicate your intention in that direction, and very definitely not to indicate an aneurism or stroke.
I liked this story (I voted it 3rd on my list, behind the top two winners), and if Alice was actually overdosing on an actual medicine, and the entire story was the result of a stroke-induced hallucination followed by death, then I just have to applaud you. But I have to agree with Georg: there weren't enough clues to indicate your intention in that direction, and very definitely not to indicate an aneurism or stroke.