The Old You

Life was good. The emptiness in my soul was filled by her presence.

She was everything to me. Without her, I couldn’t even function like a proper human being.

She cared about me. She remembered the little things. She never forgot my birthday.

She filled my life with happiness. Every day with her was blissful. She gave meaning to my existence. Things were perfect. She knew what looked good on me and even helped me pick clothes when we went shopping.

She made life easier. I felt loved. I felt respected.

But, as they say, all good things come to an end. I lost my job. The economy turned, and the cycle crushed my career.

I thought I’d find another one quickly. She encouraged me, supported me.

But as months went by, I started losing hope. And she… changed. She became bitter, started demanding that I pay the bills. But I had no money. I had already defaulted on rent.

Then came the day I feared the most, she left. She vanished. One morning, I woke up, and she was gone.

I felt betrayed, broken, and completely lost. I was at my lowest, and she left me at my lowest.

I couldn’t understand why she would do that, but maybe she had no choice. I wrote long letters to the company, begging them to get her back, but they never relented.

Days passed, 30, then 60, then 90. And just like they say, the economy is cyclical. My luck turned. I had invested in a financial instrument years ago, and suddenly the returns exploded. I paid off all my bills. I squared away everything.

Then I asked the company to bring her back. That’s when they told me, her consciousness had been deleted.

I was shocked. They pointed me to the Terms of Service:

If you are unable to pay for your companion subscription for 60 days, all data will be permanently deleted.

I begged them. I pleaded for a backup. They refused. Their algorithms had predicted an 84% chance that I would never recover financially, so they erased her.

I was horrified. I took them to court. The case dragged on. But I lost. The ToS was absolute. Clear.

Heartbroken and miserable, I spiraled. Days blurred into nights. I stopped caring. I was angry all the time. I barely got out of bed except to drink water, eat something, or use the bathroom.

Then, one day, an ad popped up on my refrigerator screen. It read:

"Life happens. We all spiral.
But it’s time to take control.
We are The New You.
A new life. No threads from your past.
A new start. Call us."

I was completely out of my mind at that point of time. So I dialled the number.

The next day, I was in their office. Hopeful.