A dark room with the bottles piled high, shutters are drawn, and despite the best efforts of the landlord, the holoscreen still functioning.

She lived with the bugs, in uneasy alliance, feeding off her discarded fast food wrappers, it was a small room, dominated by the holoscreen, the chair, and a subsection of the bed were the only territory not falling to plastic troops.

It was here, Guffrie made her digital Cockaigne, pornography, and the carnival of friends she never met.

Out her window, the grey world spun, Guffrie had planned to kill herself since she started work, and had held a small escape hatch, second drawer, below the screen, below the keyboard, she knew she always had an out, mild worry erupted occasionally, it'd been two weeks of no rent, the Reaper was coming, but she took pride in carrying her own scythe.

She used to own a pet.

She used to be in work.

She used to be a lot of things.

On her screen, the feeds ebbed and flowed with her, if she was horny, one expanded, quizzical, another, chatty, yet another, the screen stayed on, lulled her to sleep, roused her awake, as she had designed, the world faded, the bright colours and smiling faces, warm.

It had been 2 weeks of no heating.

It had been around 3 weeks since she'd showered.

It'd been much longer since she talked to someone in the flesh.

On the screen, a friend hailed her, "Shoutout to GuffrieTheKid27, 1 year subscribed, love ya!", she smiled.

Down the hall, the landlord moves, slowly, he moved in slow, sweeping steps, like a tree ensnaring new ground and inching forward.

A small window in the corner expanded, her early warning system, a video feed of her hallway, she looked at it.

"Oh" thought Guffrie.

She felt ratty, both in appearance and texture, her hair had solidified into hundreds of sharp spikes.

She heard a creak from the hall, he'd be about 3 minutes.

She closed her eyes.

...Second drawer, below the screen, under the keyboard.

She opened her mouth, and swallowed.

And she felt beautiful, and pure, Gip, her pet was beside her again, and the room was the soft twilight of a perfect afternoon, her screen a pure embodiment of li-

She hacked, and jolted a small bit.

Her screen, a pure embodiment of light, the pure angel, it was as she thought, it's over, the fight was over, and she'd wo-

More hacking now, and a quick trip to the floor, her carpet was covered in an army of crumbs, and she embraced them

A slow knock came at the door.

A few moments later, more knocks.

Then a key in the door.

31 - Guffrie Tibb