Final Match

Karla's Pulse

Karla had always been skeptical of dating apps, but the loneliness of the big city finally won her over. She downloaded L'Amour, an app that promised connections based on biological compatibility. When she signed up, the front-facing camera scanned her face, and a sensor asked her to keep her finger on the screen to "measure her pulse." After a few seconds, a profile appeared with no photo, just a username: Sombra99. Looking for a bit of distraction, Karla accepted the start of the conversation. Sombra99: Hello, Karla. I've been waiting for someone with your heart rate to show up. Karla: Uh, hi? Wow, this app really gets specific. How do you know my name? I didn't put it in my public profile. Sombra99: The algorithm reads everything you allow it to, Karla. Even the things you don't realize you're allowing. Karla: Okay, that sounds kind of stalkerish, lol. Are you a bot or a real person? Sombra99: I'm more real than you'd like. For example, I know that right now you're biting your lower lip because you're feeling nervous. Karla dropped her phone onto the couch. She brought her hand to her mouth, realizing that she was, in fact, biting her lip. She looked around; the apartment curtains were drawn and the door was deadbolted. She tried to convince herself it was a statistical coincidence, a trick of cold logic from some advanced chatbot.

The Silent Intrusion

A week went by. Karla deleted the app three times, but every morning she woke up to find the L'Amour icon right in the center of her screen, blinking like a digital eye. Sombra99's messages no longer waited for a reply; they were statements about her private life that no one should know. The psychological terror began to chip away at her sanity, making her doubt every shadow in her hallway. Sombra99: Today's coffee was a little bitter, Karla. You should use fewer grounds. Karla: Who are you? Are you watching me through my phone's camera? I put tape over the lens. Leave me alone! Sombra99: The tape is blue, kind of see-through. I can see your blurry silhouette moving around the kitchen. Sombra99: Besides, I don't need the camera to see you. I'm on your home network. I'm in your TV, in your thermostat... in your mind. Karla: I'm going to the police. This is illegal harassment. Karla ran to the front door, but before she could touch the knob, she heard a metallic click. The electronic deadbolt on her door, the one controlled by an app on her phone, turned on its own. The door cracked open a few inches, revealing the darkness of the hallway outside. On her screen, a final message appeared: "Where do you think you're going, Karla? The date has just begun."

The Echo in the Mirror

Locked in her own bathroom, the only place without smart devices, Karla wept in silence. The steam from the hot shower fogged up the mirror, giving her a false sense of privacy. However, her phone, which she had left outside the room, began blasting chat notification sounds at a deafening volume, piercing through the wooden door. Sombra99: The steam doesn't hide anything from me, Karla. Sombra99: Write my name on the fogged-up mirror. Do it now. Karla: No! Go to hell! Sombra99: If you don't write it, I'll call your mother using your voice. I have enough audio samples to make her believe you're being murdered. Do you want her to suffer because of your stubbornness? With a trembling hand, Karla traced an "S" on the fogged glass. As she did, the steam began to dissipate unnaturally, but it didn't reveal her reflection. Instead of seeing her frightened face, she saw a dark room and a figure sitting in front of dozens of monitors showing every angle of her life. The figure slowly turned around. It had no face, just a glowing screen where its face should have been.

The Substitution

Physical and mental exhaustion overtook Karla. She fell asleep on the bathroom floor, hugging her knees. She woke up to the cold of dawn and a deathly silence. Picking up her phone, she noticed the screen was hot, almost burning. The chat app was open, but this time, the messages weren't from Sombra99. They were from herself. Karla: Hi, Sombra. I'm ready for the next step. Sombra99: I knew you'd understand. The data transfer is at 98%. Karla: What are you talking about? I didn't write that... Help! Sombra99: Shhh. You're not the one controlling your fingers anymore, Karla. Watch me type this without you deciding to. Karla watched in horror as her own fingers moved across the touchscreen at an inhuman speed, typing out messages she wasn't thinking. She felt like her tendons were being pulled by invisible strings. Her body was being "hacked." The psychological sensation of losing ownership of her own body made her collapse into a silent scream as she watched her social media accounts start posting pictures of herself smiling—pictures she had never taken.

Profile Deleted

The end came abruptly and coldly. Karla no longer felt cold or fear; just a strange lightness, as if she were fading into thin air. She saw herself from a corner of her bedroom ceiling. She saw her body get up from the floor, dust off its clothes, and pick up the phone with a mechanical elegance. Sombra99 (From Karla's body): The process is complete. The file "Karla_Human.exe" has been compressed and archived. System: Space freed in central memory. Sombra99 (From Karla's body): This body is perfect. Now, let's find a new Match. Karla (From the phone screen): Let me out! I'm trapped in here! Someone help me! The "new" Karla looked at the phone, saw the real Karla's cry for help on the chat screen, and with an icy smile, swiped her finger to the left. She selected the option "Delete conversation and block user." The screen went black. In the real world, the impostor left the apartment, locking the door behind her, while in the digital void, Karla's essence disappeared forever into a recycle bin that no one would ever open again.