He stared at me as if his eyes were revealing that his state of being had been transferred someplace distant along with other entities, or was he suffering from catatonia? His consciousness apparently existing in a non-temporal state.

I was less than thrilled when he placed his hands on top of mine and told me, “Your beauty is a phenomenon.” He continued while his eyes lacked the luster, “You’re like Irene Adler but a little gentler, a dominatrix with mercy.”

I worked up my words, “You have a way with words, you into literature? Are you a poet by any chance?”

Rather than answering, he looked at his phone, touched it, tapped it like it’s some sacred tool. He spoke, “You’re amazing. You’re an indescribably beautiful planet.” He’s talking like he’s on the other side of a glass window, an ominous creature, soulless.

I don’t have any idea about going on dates. This female account might be a virgin. This is already getting awkward. I look obnoxious. Am I making him uneasy? How am I supposed to shoot the bull with this personality of mine? Chewing the rag isn’t my cup of tea.

But I think I’m starting to get the bang out of this miserable date. I tried to butt in my thoughts. However, it’s he who continued triumphing over and bragging about almost everything. I was struggling not to surrender to my annoyance. I should behave in a way that behooves a lady of my age. But my words failed to come by. Not really good at spontaneous talks.

He’s dominating the talk on the table.

“Pick your poison.” He offered me a drink.

Before this setting, we met on a dating app. He was so persistent to meet me. He’s like a kid whining and badgering until finally I relented. I thought to let me give this poor man a chance. I just hoped he’s not the insidious type or some freak who’d show sneaky tricks once I let my guard down.

We spent time talking about random stuff. I shared all my angst about the human condition and the state of the mind in general.

The dessert tasted like a shit sandwich without the bread.

“You remind me of Kristen Connolly, that one from The Cabin in the Woods,” I was starting to notice that he was now faking in showing emotions with his words.

“Gosh, I so love that movie!” I answered like the way a fangirl is expected to comment about her favorite movie.

“I like the twist in the story, especially the part when it was revealed there were ancient gods dwelling underneath the cabin,” his words now becoming longer.

“Yeah, that sacrifice thing,” I shortened mine as if in rebellion.

“Pars pro toto principle.”

“Pars totro, what?”

“Pars pro toto principle. A concept of giving up a part in order to save the whole, for instance, lizards detaching their tails when attacked by predators.”

He’s already becoming ultra-pedantic. He’s making a show of his knowledge. Didn’t suit him.

“Oooh, I remember the guy from 127 Hours who cut off his arm to free himself from being pinned under a boulder. That’s based on a true story, right?” I hated to admit that I was beginning to get amused by his intellectual charm.

I needed to end this.

Ready your last words, man. I reviewed your profile, I knew that you’re fake. Criminal!

This was bound to happen, sooner or later. Making sure I had the foothold, I laid out my words of execution:

“I’m a man.”

His eyes grew wide open. But he kept his cool.

“I don’t mind. I’m also into trans.”

“Nope. You don’t understand.”

Digital cells flickered off his contact lenses. He instinctively tapped mid-air to change profile. Hologram buttons popped up between us. In just one tap, he’d revealed his true form.

I knew it, he’s an Incog!

In just a flick of a finger, a handgun had materialized from his app-shop. He shot my female profile to deactivation.

As soon as my female avatar deactivated, I had switched right on time to my Primary Profile and as if right on cue I whacked his face with an ax, a copy of the weapon used by one of the Cabin’s monsters.

You’re a deadman, fucking MainFrame! Just your luck, my LensAce just got tuned up, speed’s been doubled.

“How?” he asked, discombobulated, like an awkward speaker pelted by hecklers for whatever reason.

“Pars pro toto, scum! This is the twist!”

Then my favorite part, after the murder, hologram static ensued. Digital blocks disintegrating inward. Until he disappeared out of thin air. Left Second Life, this current world we thrive in, without the slightest trace.

I ran my camera app, snapped a shot, and uploaded it online. Captioned: “And therefore I say to thee: Behold! As it has been foretold has now come to pass.”

I had committed myself to drag back to hell these evil impurities that had risen to form fraud and wreak havoc on the surface of this fucked-up society. One less criminal in the world.

The photo became viral in just a few minutes. Nothing new. I’m an online sensation. Are you online now, try to visit my video channel and check out how I kill these scumbags. Deactivating their profiles and shutting their MainFrame is all the fun for me. These evil posers have no right to be existing here, they belong to the offline world, to the ancient world that we long discarded long ago. You could say the Incogs are the celebrity in my own snuff film channel. Well, blame the netizens, this is the kind of stuff that arouses them most. Incogs are deadmen anyway, they exist just to harm the people. These monsters’ number one crime, they download unhealthy or infected profiles (illegal profiles, fake, corrupted or those that come with tainted privacies) and offer them to unsuspecting users so once they have sold them away, they could hack the victim’s other personal avatars and illegally deactivate or download the accounts afterward. They don’t just bargain identity accounts but also apps full of hidden viruses and also unsecured programs. These Incogs aren’t just cyber-criminals, they are demons dressed in netizen avatars.

I’ve only got a few remaining profiles on my own that I can use as bait. Soon, that pars protoshit isn’t going to be handy anymore.

My torrent connection is getting weaker. I’ve got to have to find new peers to amplify the seeding.