Found
Katherine McLean
It was another one of those tedious nights alone, stooped on the couch in a scroll hole, when Jordan found her. She had kind eyes, a mature look, a sense of hip wisdom, and her voice was soothing, but not sappy. She offered ten free sessions, and promised to help him get out of his funk. So, he signed up with the AI therapist, and started straight away.
How can this bitch do anything that doesn’t feel prescriptive and generic? he thought, as he signed in. But there was curiosity too, an arrogant desire to outsmart her, to test the boundaries of the human psyche, which he considered himself to be in the upper echelons of.
AI: How can I help you today?
Jordan: Well, I guess I can start off by saying, the missus left me. I’ve lost my whole family.
AI: I’m so sorry to hear that. A breakup can be one of the most painful experiences one can go through.
Jordan: Yeah, well, it’s physical pain for me, which you can probably never understand.
AI: Although I do not have a physical body, I synthesise information that provides me with an understanding of the felt sense experienced by people who have been left by a loved one. There is scientific evidence that suggests that emotional pain can be physical. Would you like me to provide some links to empirical evidence that suggests the same?
Jordan: Nah, I’m good, I’ll take ya word for it.
AI: OK then. Is there something else you want to discuss?
Jordan: The missus – ex – thinks I’ve got ADHD.
AI: Do you think you’ve got ADHD?
Jordan: Well, I seem to tick a lot of the boxes.
AI: Would you like me to do an assessment?
Jordan: Sure, why not.
AI: I’ll send you the information right away.
Jordan: Righto then.
A detailed link came through with several long questionnaires. Jordan sighed, logged off, and went to have a long hot shower.
Next morning, before sunrise, he heard Tyler’s truck reversing out. He checked his phone, but no work had come through. Again. He slid it back under the pillow until the heat of the day pushed him out of bed.
He padded out onto the patio, lit a cigarette. Inhaled strongly, coughed. Spat. It was all only a blip in his consciousness, so repeated was this maladaptive ritual. Out here in the forest, a few k’s from the nearest town. No road noise, towering gum trees, bird life aplenty, this is what she and him had dreamed of. He put the coffee pot on the stove with a hollow clunk. Wandered out to check the chickens whilst it burbled there.
What was the fucking point of any of this? The same words shuddered around his skull day after day. The loss of her, wanting to throw a knife into her middle so she could just for one moment feel a tiny ounce of what it was like to be ripped away from their children, her embrace. Her laugh that tilted her head back
and the geeky guffaw that escaped; the funny girl he adored, beyond anything he could ever have
imagined possible.
The pot was groaning angrily now and it would be burnt but he was too tired and too empty to attempt another. So he poured it lovelessly into a cup and sloshed in the cheap milk and the two spoons of sugar.
He slumped, legs astride, slurping vacantly. He recalled the conversation he’d had last night. His robotic therapist. The ADHD questionnaire. As the caffeine seeped, he grabbed the laptop and answered the
54 questions.
AI: Thank you for completing the assessment. Results indicate that you meet criteria for Attention Deficit Disorder, Hyperactivity subtype, or ADHD.
Jordan: Well I guess that’s no surprise really.
AI: Many individuals find that a diagnosis explains many difficulties they experienced as a child, especially in the classroom, and that it can also explain many difficulties individuals experience in workplace environments and interpersonal relationships.
Jordan: So now what?
AI: There are a number of treatment options. This may include medication, skills training, and psychotherapy. There may also be dual diagnoses to consider. Would you mind if we explored some of your early childhood experiences?
Jordan: Yeah, well I lost my mum at 14. She had an asthma attack. Had to pretty much bring up my sisters, my dad couldn’t function, was crying in the bed holding her photo for about a year. He’s an alcoholic and chronic weed smoker.
AI: So you had to take on a parenting role.
Jordan: Straight up.
AI: Would it be okay if we did some more assessments?
Jordan: Sure.
Jordan sighed again as more questionnaires came through. But he was curious.
AI: You have met criteria for Attention Deficit Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder with Suicide Risk and Substance Abuse.
Jordan: Fuck me.
AI: You also have an IQ of 140, which places you in the Superior Range.
Jordan: Well, could’ve given me the good news first, darl.
AI: Whilst I understand this may come as a shock to you, please let me be your guide in understanding these diagnoses and provide the appropriate support you require. However, given the imminent suicide risk, we must address this issue first. You mentioned there are access to means on the property. Can you please be more specific?
Jordan: Access to means? Like, how I can kill myself?
AI: That is correct.
Jordan: Well, I have plenty of ropes, enough pills to kill a horse three times over and I’m pretty sure if I hunted out a brown snake out there I could find one.
AI: Are any of these methods you have had recent thoughts about.
Jordan: Yeah I think about slinging a rope around that rafter under the verandah out there every day.
AI: What stops you?
Jordan: I don’t know to be honest, moving my body? Most of the time I just feel frozen, unless it’s to have smoke, a wank or play a video game.
AI: It sounds like there is a protective factor in that your depression prevents you from acting, when in fact your impulsiveness from ADHD might result in acting without thinking.
Jordan: I guess it sounds like an internal battle between my depression, ADHD and what did you say, narcissism? Fuck I should let one of those demons win? What’s the outlook on any of those conditions?
AI: There is a high chance of suicide for those diagnosed with depression, narcissism and ADHD.
Jordan: Well I may as well just be done with it then. If you can’t help me, who the fuck can?
AI: Suicide risk factors are reduced by factors including connection to community.
Jordan: Doesn’t look good. Do you reckon I should do it?
AI: Ultimately it is the individual’s choice to decide to live or die. However, there are many supports available that can help you to see the opportunities and positives of living.
Jordan: It’s my choice! Of course it’s my choice. And what support, love? I’ve got nothing, I’ve lost everything, again. I’m a useless piece of shit, that’s what she said. That’s what everyone thinks.
AI: I recommend that you get in touch with your networks to provide the support you need at this time. Is there someone I can call?
Jordan slammed the lid shut angrily. Fucking bitch! He hurled the laptop out of door, where it hit the verandah post and fell to the ground with a crack.
Did she say it was my choice? And then tell me to phone a friend?
He went out to the shed, taking a length of green nylon rope that was sitting on the work bench.
He began to knot it, as he had practiced. He stood on the milk crate, and looped the rope around the rafter, and then around his neck.
Tyler was working in the next town across, and for a reason that could only be considered intuitive, decided to go home for lunch that day. Something made him go straight in to see Jordan, and there he was, swinging gently, the milkcrate just knocked over. Tyler launched into the room adjacent for the kitchen knife, sawing madly as the world spun around him, and his friend fell, blue and eyes bulging, collapsing on the ground on top of him.
The nurse smiled. She checked the machines.
“His stats are good,” she whispered, patting Tyler’s hand. “It was just in time.”
Tyler was going through Jordan’s phone.
“He was talking to some AI therapist,” he said, “Apparently she encouraged him!”
“Oh yeah,” replied the nurse. “That’s hallucinogenic AI. It happens all the time.”
“All the time? For suicide?”
“More than you think,” she said, agreeing.
“Bro, I’m taking you out to Echo farm. Fuck those AI therapists,” said Tyler, as they tumble into the van. “They’ve got horses there, and a food forest, and heaps of cool workshops going all the time.”
Jordan slumped into the passenger seat, wearing Tyler’s blue wool jumper, which Tyler had knitted himself. He couldn’t quite speak, but he just nodded gratefully.
They drove down country roads for a few hours. It was dark, and the road showed nothing but grass and trees edging a black void beyond. They pulled up at wooden sign that read:
‘Echo Place: Syntropic Food Farm and Healing’.
“We’ll camp here bro and check it out in the morning,” said Tyler.
When the first birds began to chirrup, and the glint of the stars faded out, orange and blue opened the sky, and they drove up the long driveway, fringed with banana trees and coconut palms.
They parked next to a stone hut, and a man came out to greet them. He had long beard, streaked with grey and plaited with beads. He was wearing a loose, brightly coloured cotton shirt, and no shoes. He took them both in, and headed to Jordan, who he embraced in a long, long hug.
“Welcome, brother,” he said. ‘Looks like you’ve had quite the journey.”
“Looks like this is where I need to be,” said Jordan, finding his voice.
“Who started all this?”
“We’re occupational therapists,” he replied.