The Algorithm of Connection

“Good morning ! Today is December 10th, 2050. My Ultimate Life has cultivated your ultimate outfit based on both weather and your mental health needs as you navigate seasonal depression. Based on your caloric and metabolic needs of the day [pause] : it is recommended for your sedentary lifestyle that you have a low calorie, high b12, fiber rich warm soup to heat your spirit and encourage the facilitation of ideas.”

Olivia steps on her hypoallergenic, stain resistant pleasing flower box blue carpet. The fibers are not cold when the bare skin of the soles of her feet touch it… in fact her skin feels nothing as the entire house is climate controlled according to her basal core temperature at all times.

It feels like nothing. Everyday, all day forever. Oh, the nostalgia of feeling slight discomfort.

After making her bed, and dressing as per the application's recommendations, Olivia heads downstairs to begin her day.

She pretends the warm earthy scent permeating her nostrils from the kitchen is coffee. The stuff that used to churn the capitalist cog before it was deemed a controlled substance. Now there is only rooibos tea. Rooibos tea is low in tannins and chock full of antioxidants and caffeine free and smells like the ghosts of coffees past.

The machine gurgles as it brews and finishes with a couple of high pitched screams as it splashes into Olivia's only sustainable living mug. Before allowing herself the joy of morning tea, Olivia opens her freezer revealing bulk individually packaged frozen soups, before blindly picking one and tossing it in the fridge to defrost. While doing so, she let her mind wander to the syrupy pancakes and greasy bacon of days gone by.

Outside the ducks laugh together as they nibble at dewy spring grass, plucking at the tiny wriggling creatures that dwell there.

She looks at her social queue: based on her ethnicity, personal ideologies, upbringing, and socio economic status there are [0] matches for suitable romantic or platonic human connections in her area.

“Olivia, I know your desperate need for personal connection is triggering your anxiety, let's try some breathing exercises.”

Driven into a sort of homicidal rage by the suggestion of meditation to quell her inner yearnings for companionship, Olivia swiftly shoved the device under a couch cushion.

Life was better before the government had seized her sweet Ragdoll kitties. In 2032, it was deemed inhumane to keep domesticated animals inside of a home as it violated their personal autonomy.

Almost on cue her work issued desktop lit up, disrupting her nostalgia. Olivia works remotely for an advertisement company providing human input for artificially intelligent systems to better create content for its naturally intelligent buyers. She used to bring her laptop to local cafes to work and people watch. Now only desktops are issued, effectively anchoring workers to their home offices.

“Good morning Olivia! We are advertising this breathtaking beach getaway,” the A.I generated breathy voice announces. Footage of gentle breezes wafting through palm trees, while gentle ripples of bright teal ocean water laps at a soft and sandy beach.

‘As a human, how does this scene make you feel, what resonates with you?’ The prompt asks.

“Well… considering that a vacation like that cost more than the average American median income, I'd say none of it.”

Olivia tries to imagine what it might feel like to be on a beach. Her family had migrated to Iowa during the recession in the early 2020's and despite doing well for themselves, their family had never managed to even vacation outside of the state since then.

Flying commercially now was a luxury only for the upper class. Even those lucky enough to have the means to fly coach refused to pay for the cramped seating and deplorable customer service.

Olivia stood up and shuffled back to her kitchen. She glanced at her plants. The smart indicator’s bright blue digitized frowns meant that Bob and Linda, Olivia's basil and thyme plants, needed water.

She tried to think back to anything her parents had mentioned about beaches as she watered Bob and Linda. Her parents both said they hated the beach, the sand was irritating and jellyfish stings were terrible. Not to mention… aliens lived there. The government announced their existence to its post pandemic, desensitized population in 2024. Coastal citizens moved inland in droves; most of the country barely batted an eye. Aliens were less concerning than inflation, the rising cost of living, and inaccessible health care.

Olivia cracked her knuckles as her desktop glowed red, indicating a productivity lapse.

Fine. She types her response to the prompt: ‘The sand feels rough and grainy against my skin, warm water glides across my toes. Although the fear of jellyfish and extraterrestrials dwell in my mind, the refreshing piña colada I drink makes me leave all my worries behind.’

A response immediately follows: “Thank you for your response, however, it lacks authenticity, and carries a sarcastic tone. Please select only projects that you have first person experience with. “

Personal experiences? Olivia retrieves her phone, still very much alive under the couch cushion. She began searching for all inclusive beach vacation packages.

“According to my estimation, based on your current financial score and the rate of inflation, you will never be able to afford a beach vacation. Can I show you some local bed and breakfasts instead? Research indicates that “staycations” can be just as relaxing as traditional vacations,” My Ultimate Life delivers the soul crushing news in cold, direct monotone.

“What if I decide to do it anyway?” Olivia inquired.

“The Rogers Act established in 2031 made it illegal for persons to live financially outside of their means. This act was intended to hold businesses accountable for irresponsible consumer spending and slow inflation while stabilizing financial institutions. Penalties for circumnavigation of this act are steep; violators face fines and lengthy prison sentences.”

“My Ultimate Life, I feel, a sense of all consuming dread. What are some solutions to change my mental state?”

“I see. Well, may I suggest watching a scary movie or adding some spice to your soup? Studies have shown these activities help naturally provide serotonin, a neurochemical responsible for mood stabilization, also accomplished as does walking. “

A walk. Outside. How long had it been since she had ventured out? Olivia quickly shoved her feet into her ugly but comfortable blue shoes, made from polyethylene vinyl acetate and barring 13 manufactured holes each for breathability.

Olivia grabbed her key fob and her phone. Before stepping into the motionless, bright day, she leaves her phone on the counter.

The rows of neat little cube homes stretched out before her, each with the same single tree and bush. Each house with a My Ultimate Life, shiny black fully electric car parked in the driveway connected to their respective charging stations, ready to go nowhere. No people coming or going. No running errands or manicuring lawns. Just an eerie nothingness, that made her feel like the last woman on earth.

Every step felt weighted with hesitation. Reminding herself to breathe, Olivia felt like a foreigner in her own neighborhood. She walked three blocks before she spotted a stranger. An old woman sitting on her porch, wrapped in a blanket staring blankly at nothing in particular, while music from a bygone era played a soft, melodic tune from her device.

Olivia tested out a smile. The old woman looked up, startled. She began shakily getting out of her seat.

“Hello! Just going on a walk!” Olivia stepped a little faster, “hello!”

By the time Olivia was standing on the sidewalk that led to the old woman's cube, the stranger had already scrambled into her home like a rabbit returning to its den.

Olivia had no idea why she felt so compelled to speak to this stranger but she simply knew she had to.

She stepped carefully onto the porch and knocked on the door, something she had only seen done in films.

“Go away!” a shaky voice plead from the other side of the door.

“My name is Olivia! I would like to meet you!”

“I'm not supposed to talk to anyone! No one is in my social queue! Have a nice day!”

“I just want to say hello! You know like people used to…do… I guess?”

Silence followed. Olivia felt her face flush, and tears began spontaneously flowing over her cheeks. Moments later she saw a pair of eyes peep through the blinds followed by the door creaking open.

Despite her fears, and against all logic, the old woman decided to throw caution to the wind. It had been ages since she had spoken to a soul and something about the girl's presence inspired empathy.


“Come in… hurry!” The old woman urged fearfully looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing the exchange. Of course no one was, they were all busy in their homes being productive on their work desktops.

Olivia stepped in, embarrassed at having caused a scene.

The old woman waved, signaling for her to follow.

When they reached the kitchen, which looked identical to Olivia's, the old woman silently picked four, square ceramic tiles off the floor revealing a secret door.

It took what seemed ages for her to silently lift the handle, revealing a set of wooden stairs leading to a hidden room.

Part of Olivia was terrified but she went down ahead of the old woman. She was amazed at her ability to swiftly and silently shut the door behind them.

Olivia's eyes roamed around the room. From the rich red Persian rugs, to the twinkling gold lights, no space was left bare. Old photos, art and little trinkets were scattered about with a certain elegant abundance that deserved to be appreciated. Bookcases were lined with titles, bins were filled with records. There were real wax candles and what appeared to be a working lighter! The room smelled like cinnamon,smoke and dust.

She heard a small cry and realized it was a real live cat. His coat was a fluffy patchwork of oranges, browns and blacks. He gazed at the stranger with a pair of shrewd emerald eyes and a nonplussed expression. Olivia gasped, she hadn't seen a cat in over a decade.

The old woman smiled a mischievous pink lipsticked smirk as she placed a wrinkled index finger over her lips.

She then made her way to the far wall. There sat a coffee maker. The old woman placed a white paper filter inside a plastic basket, then filled it with; was that real coffee? Pouring water from a jug she had handy, the old woman pressed start brewing and the machine came alive, filling the air with the beautiful rich scent of real coffee.

“My son Noah passed, but he built this room for me before he died. He thought they'd arrest me for having so many of the old things.”

“The cat’s name is Cheeseburger” she said nodding to her furry companion, “and he's not much younger than you.”

Olivia sat on what appeared to be an antique, bright gold velvet accent chair. It was old but soft and more durable than today’s furniture could ever be. The old woman poured Olivia a cup of coffee and brought it to her, “I only have one cup. I don't have creamer, because I hate that non-dairy crap they push, so I'm afraid it's not as good as it could be but I hope you like it.”

“Thank you.”

“What are beaches like?” Olivia suddenly felt insecure about her speaking voice, and hoped it wasn't unpleasant to the old woman's ears.

“Hmmm beaches?” The old woman sat down on a small patched leather sofa. “Which one?” She smiled.

“Which one?! You've been to more than one?” Olivia was astonished.

“Oh yes… the beaches on the West coast are beautiful, but the sand is a little rocky and the water tends to be colder, surfers liked it though because the waves were higher.”

“The beaches up north? Well those are colder too and unfortunately back then with the way people left their trash everywhere, not very pretty.” The old woman softly stroked the top of Cheeseburger's head, “my favorite beaches were in the outer banks of North Carolina. When I was a little younger than you, my friends and I used to put on short shorts and tiny little bikini tops and take our big trucks up on the sand and go riding!”

She handed Olivia a faded polaroid of three suntanned beautiful young women, sporting big grins, “Afterwards we'd roll up some joints and get absolutely blazed and talk around a fire. The sand was softer there and the water was warm and the dunes, my god the dunes were beautiful.”

“What is your name?” Olivia wanted to know the name that belonged to the golden brown eyes in the happy, adventurous woman seen in all of the photos pinned on the wall.

The old woman considered giving an alias, but remembered who she was and in a small act of rebellion, uttered her legal one. “Rebecca.”

Placing the emptied cup on the table next to her, and standing up slowly she offered her hand to Rebecca, “I'm Olivia. It's nice to meet you.”

Rebecca accepted the gesture and gently shook Olivia's hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Silence fell over the dusty room for what felt like a moment too long as Olivia tried to figure out what to say next.

“Would you like to come over tomorrow? I'll tell you about the time I studied abroad in Italy. The food and the culture were amazing, but the men were better,” Rebecca laughed and shot her new friend a wink.

“I'll bring my cup,” Olivia smiled, scratching Cheeseburger lightly behind the ears, and enjoying the gentle purrs of contentment, a welcomed interruption that only added to the tranquility of the moment.