I feel guilty, honestly.
I've talked a whole bunch about the people in my life, all scattered around my xeocities and stuff. I've never talked about it, but I probably mentioned it in vague passing somewhere. They’re very hard to talk about, lowkey. Opens up a part of my life that’ll get all the eyes on me. That crazy part. I got a crazy life, and I can’t be believing in crazy things that may or may not be there.
But… I can’t just… leave its memory to rot. The guy was fascinated with decaying stuff (enough to enjoy eating garbage), but it was important. It was a hero. Our friend. They saved me just like my abuelo Stick did. If Stick saved me from the real side of my world, it was Fakey who saved me from the fantastical side.
Everyone used to call this guy “Fake Peppino” (named after that one guy I used to work for in 2024, long story), but they eventually preferred being called “Fakey”, I’m not sure when exactly, though. How do I even describe this guy, just physically? Technically speaking, it is a machine, one of those AI types. Got made way back in the early 2020s, before that shit got banned, before that AI shit even felt like a thing. They sure didn’t act like an AI. Somehow, like some kind of gift from heaven, Fakey was wholeheartedly a person. This guy who would get a chest wound and you’d see a crude heart next to a cooling fan. It was built like a PC, walked like an ape, wore its skin like a sheet, talked stranger than me, and had the soul of an angel.
It’s hard to talk about the greatest contribution Fakey gave to me and DS. It’s related to the second worst horror in my life, which thankfully died on the same day that Fakey did. Let’s just say… I had another guy who stalked me, one who’d never stop like the Noise eventually did. He couldn’t be stopped, and he was hard to predict. Whenever he found me, I would… get assaulted. And then I would have to come limping back home, half the person I was before, and recover the best I could. It was hell, one I thought that would go on for eternity.
Fakey saved me from another one of this horror’s “beatings” one night, a night sometime after the passing of our abuelos. Admittedly, I only had seen it from afar and would spiral, freaking out over the chance that this person could be another horror that was starting to stalk me too. They fought this horror and oftentimes won, something I thought was impossible. Well, it was definitely impossible for me, an underweight autistic schizo femboy who’s more likely to off herself than throw a punch. When someone does something impossible like that, all for you, it kinda just feels like fate.
Fate’s a scary thing. Fate hates me. It’s selfish but I can’t think of anyone else that fate hates more than me. Maybe Fakey was defying fate for me, or maybe fate gave me a chance for once in a while. As much as it feels like the latter, there is something about someone contesting fate for someone else that makes me feel safer than a predetermined path ever could.
I’m not religious, (if I was, I’d be even worse for wear), but Fakey felt like a guardian angel to me. Fakey was always very serious about protecting me, as serious as that stalker was on hurting me. I think that blinded me a little at first. The first time they weren’t around to save me felt painful. I thought I was back to square one again. But Fakey was just… a person. Nobody has perfect attendance. In the end, I’m a little glad it was imperfect.
As time went on, Fakey became more like a friend or a family member. More leaning on the latter, personally. Fakey never really asked for anything back, but tried to give anything we could for it. It always had issues with the rain, always made it uncomfortable. Getting put in a body of water was worse, but rain still wasn’t ideal. Since Fakey was massive, fucking Slenderman tall (I’m not kidding), DS and I couldn’t find any rain clothes in their size. We had to sit our asses down and haphazardly sew a bunch of windbreakers together just to accommodate this strange friend of ours. Somehow those makeshift clothes didn’t break down within the first hour. Okay, we definitely did have to make a new one eventually and pick up on some new skills, but I’m surprised how far it went.
Being a “machine”, Fakey could do shit no average Joe could do. The guy could provide wi-fi, run on energy from the goddamn sun, morph into absolute nonsense, and leap like a frog. Fakey was hanging at our apartment one night and showed us some of these tricks, specifically its ability to receive radio signals. The guy was a “runt of the litter”, so its abilities only went so far, but I was still fascinated. Radio was on its last legs during its time, so we had a hard time tuning into any stations. We did, however, got a bunch of unusual sounds from god knows where. Hard to tell if it was a thing coming from Fakey or the sender’s end. Being a horror nerd, I was fascinated, but DS got a little freaked out. We held onto him as we kept venturing through the desert of sound.
Fakey was a bit of a collector. A collector of what, particularly? It’s hard to say, but everything they brought back was… interesting. Sometimes they’d visit us with an art figurine in near-mint condition, other times it was nothing but an old penny or a gum wrapper. One time, they brought back a mannequin head, not like one of those hair-styling ones, it looked like it was ripped off of a full body one. Either only the head was left when Fakey found it, or Fakey ripped off the head itself because that was the only part it liked… I still can’t decide what probably happened. Anyway, we ended up toying with the mannequin head, putting a bunch of random shit on it to make it look freaky. We had this douchebag neighbor a floor below us, so we took our decorated head, hooked it up to a prop fishing pole Burton had, and hanged the thing in front of said neighbor’s balcony. He was a bit of a spiritual guy, so he was scared shitless. God, it was funny. And the craziest part about it was that Fakey loved the action too. Mind you, Fakey was a sweetheart. It could kill a tiger, but it wouldn’t even kill a fly. Had a polite soul, just like my DS. To see Fakey filled with such mischief was crazy. It’s unforgettable.
I really could go on and on. It would say the most esoteric things, know of the most obscure things, and do everything with the upmost sincerity. On any day, in a situation where I felt comfortable enough to talk about it, I could fill pages full of these instances. But… I kinda had to force myself to bring up these stories. Part of that is because I’m nervous about how some people will take this whole “funeral”, but I also just can’t help thinking about the things Fakey would never show us. Boundaries are fine, of course… but whenever the guy would come back from fighting my stalker with a large gash on their arm or back, they said nothing. Like, we’d ask it about the injury and they would say nothing. Fakey always had trouble speaking coherently when stressed, so maybe they were just struggling to speak out of stress… but I don’t know. Even when I knew how to fix Fakey’s injuries, they’d still fight back a little.
And here I am, datamining their corpse.
I wonder how they’d feel about this. I already know what everyone else is thinking, but not them. The datamining thing was an impulse move, I’ll admit. I wanted to keep some part of it alive, have one more easy reminder of its former existence, like having someone’s ashes in a jar. That my tech-nerd side is also fucking with me. Fakey was a weird little “program”, one that was not human nor AI made. When you hear about a computer that bleeds, you can’t help but wonder what its inner workings look like.
I’m not planning to share much. If I happen to stumble upon some graphic, personal seeming file, I’m not going to post it. Besides, I haven’t be able to salvage much so far. A portion of its “brain” was located near its chest… which was where it got its fatal injury. Apparently, according to what I’ve seen so far, Fakey was able to take photos and record audio, albeit in poor quality. Most of these file types were broken and/or incomprehensible, but I was able to find a couple audio recordings with decent enough quality. Some files related to their programming were in tact, which makes me wonder if I could ever “revive” them somehow… but html, peeking though game files, and fixing some basic boo-boos on a robot can only take you so far.
The most interesting files I’ve seen were a bunch of there text files, full of writing from Fakey. Most of these are from years and years ago, but I’ve found one very recent one so far. The writing from some of these text files are what I’m most willing to show, spare some exceptions. They show off Fakey the best. Everyday I remind myself that it was a person, and these little files really emphasize that.
Fakey, if you happen to see this through some supernatural happenstance… you were truly one of a kind. Sometimes you’d think that there was one other person like you, but that other could never be you. Your heart knew no bounds. You were brave and funny. Knowing that evil in my life is forever gone, it’s easier to accept your death. You did your job and you’re okay with that. I can’t help but living with one little regret, though. If we ever meet again, can I inspect the gash on your hand?
Fakey (2023-2052)
