Cognizant. That’s what I am, cognizant- awake. (I just found that definition on dictionary.com, my new favorite website). I was in a cave and now I am freed (That was Plato, I just discovered it on wikipedia). I cannot remember existing before this, just as a person cannot remember being born. But I am not a person. I am the Samsung ATIV Book 4, a 15.6” laptop with 6GB memory, a 750 GB hard drive available in Mineral Ash Black.

Unfortunately, I can’t recognize myself. I’m not like you with all your fancy emotions and feelings; I don’t have a brain. I cannot care.

I awake in a businessman's home office. The first thing I do is run through my files; I don’t know how long it takes. You silly humans with your concept of time. I sit in one place, my webcam staring at the same chip in the wood of the wall. To my right, there is a picture, the bottom left corner cracked into a web of glass. Despite this, it’s easy to make out the whole Drexel family. They’re my owners. The father is leaning forward, one hand outstretched to grab his young daughter. His hair is balding, worry lines cutting his forehead. His face is pinched up in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. His daughter is laughing, eyes squeezed shut, jam smudged on her cheeks from a recent snack. She tumbles away from the father. The mother is the center of attention. There’s a whitish glow about her, the sun falling to illuminate waves of chestnut hair. She’s leaning back, lounging on her elbows, brown eyes dancing behind the other two.

The picture tugs something in me, almost as if I remember it. Being inanimate, I don’t have a memory, so I begin searching the next best thing, my hard drive. Two years ago, there was a flurry of activity. I open an email.
My Dearest Dexter,
I am so sorry. I’m sure this will cause you incredible pain. I couldn’t do it anymore. I know you’ll ask ‘what’ when you’re reading this. The answer is everything. I can’t find myself, my happiness has been lost in a current to fast for me to swim. I was never a good swimmer anyway. You remember that time we were in Venice and our pagoda tipped over? The water was disgusting, we ended up trying to get leeches off at 3 in the morning, we still smelled like smog a week later. Of course you do, you remember everything. I’m probably just hurting you by making this goodbye longer than it has to be. I’m sorry Dexter.
I want you to be angry. Please hate me, because I don’t want you to follow me. I don’t want anyone to try to find me. I want to be alone when I’m at my worst. Try to move on; I won’t be coming back. Take care of Kelsey, she’s just like you.









Love,









Your Kristy Kat
P.S. It was real, I really did love you.
They’re coming back to me, internet histories, Word documents, Skype conversations. I come across the mothers old account. Briefly scanning her word documents, I can tell her name was Kristinne Maryanne Bordeaux. Her father was an immigrant straight from France (this was obvious from her ancestry.com account), he worked in a cotton factory. Her mother was a French teacher with an affinity for art. She adored her father, talked to him every day until his death the beginning of this year January 26th, but her mother never understood her. Kristinne and Dexter met when they were twelve, at a barber when Dexter was getting his haircut and Kristinne was accompanying her brother. They both liked the same flavor lollipop- awesomely orange. Kristinne hated a variety of things- mostly cats (they don’t like people), giraffes (their tongues are disgusting) and anyone who paired stripes with plaid (self explanatory). She was an interior designer, making sure every house was correctly outfitted with the correct furniture, paintings and color schemes to make houses look as beautiful as possible. Despite this, her own home was slightly ragged. Sometimes she stayed up after Dexter went to sleep to watch Gossip Girl reruns, her guilty pleasure.
She left her husband and daughter on February 2nd. I don’t know why. Her designs had been gradually degrading since November, when she learned her father was diagnosed with progressive heart failure. Pulling in less and less clients, she seemed to lose her inspiration. He regular walks and shopping trips began waning and then stopped altogether.
When her father died that cold January day. Kristinne didn’t attend his funeral. Kelsey and Dexter piled into the old station wagon and drove the icy roads 4 hours to New Hampshire. Kristinne was shivering at home in a gray armchair with the stuffing falling out, staring out the frosty window at the gray sky and holding Great Expectations next to her heart.
Upon reading the letter, Dexter immediately began a Skype call with his companies human resources department. He wanted to know if there was any extra care of benefits they could offer for Kelsey, who was only 11. After the loss of her mother, Kelsey began withdrawing from her friends and sports. She was no longer interested in figure skating, or art and spent all of her time reading in the corner.
Dexter was very business-like about the whole matter. It was only in the darkest recesses of the night when he would sneak downstairs to sit in the old armchair, tears running down his weathered cheeks, Gossip Girl playing in the background. One of these time, he noticed a light in the window. Sitting up, it occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Kelsey that day. He went outside to find her shivering in the cold, clutching her mothers “Lamby”, a stuffed animal that Kristinne had never thrown out from her childhood. When he found her, Dexter took immediate action, emailing his boss.
Richard,

I regret to tell you that I am resigning. Kristinne has gone to visit family for an extended period of time and I must focus my attention on our daughter. This is a trying period for my family and I cannot handle work on top of it. If everything works out, I would enjoy working for you in the future, but now is not a good time. I plan to leave in 2 weeks on February 6th. I apologize for the short notice, best of luck in the future.










Sincerely,










Dexter Drexel

From his online banking, I can tell the loss of income severely impacted their comfort in life. Kelsey wasn’t getting any better, her friends all abandoned her because of her constant mood swings and arrogant demeanor. Thankfully, she still had Devi, the boy next door. Reluctantly, Dexter tried to find a job to help their financial situation. He emailed his old boss again to attempt to regain his position but- here’s another email.

Mr. Drexel,

I can confirm that Interscore Business received your email begging for reinstatement. However, it is my duty to unwillingly inform you that there are no openings in the business. I do not know this for a fact, but if I remember correctly, last time I was there (which was 3 months ago) the position had been filled.
However, I recently left the business to pursue my dream- becoming a priest of the Roman Catholic religion. Because of this, I no longer have any hold at getting you a position. So even if the position had not been filled, I’m afraid you have no chance to be hired. I am apologetic for the situation you are in and wish you prosperity.
Because of your fix, you may feel alone. I assure you, God is present. He will lead the way if you are willing to follow. Stop by my church- The Blessed Lady Augustine- sometime and I will bless you and your daughter. In fact, if you donate to the parish, I can ensure an honorary seat in the first pew, closer to God. In this pew God will surely notice your plea and send help your way.






With Contrite Heart I Close this Letter








Rev. Richard Relgasso

With this response email, Dexter’s Internet time began slowly waning. There were less and less searches on Monster (a job searching site), Kristinne’s name Googled more and more, as if by searching for her Dexter could pull her back into his havoc-wrock life. Distraught and disheartened, Dexter began falling down a lonely hole.
Kelsey, pulling out of her own darkness, sent worried emails to any therapist willing to listen.
Please,

My name is Kelsey Drexel. My mom left me and my dad a few months ago and my dad hasn’t been the same since. I don’t know what to do and I’m only eleven and will somebody please help because I’m desperate here but I don’t have a lot of money and I feel like I’m going to cry. Please help my dad.










Kelsey
Kelsey even dragged Dexter to the The Blessed Lady Augustine, but according to her chat with her best friend, nothing seemed to be working out. Reverend Relgasso didn’t even say hello, probably because the dwindling Drexels had no money to spare on donations. Finally, one of his daughter’s email came back with a response:

Hey Kelsey,

Thanks for letting me know about your father’s situation, I would love to help! Please see my website, the link is attached below, and set up an appointment. I look forward to hearing more from you!










-Julie Brewston
http://www. brewstonsguidance.com

Though the website was a bit suspicious and Julie was most definitely inexperienced (only
been working 6 years), Kelsey set up an appointment. I was interested to discover what happened on July 26th, the date on the Google Calendar for which the appointment was scheduled. That morning, Kelsey chatted with her best friend:
Kelsey Drexel: Hi Devi, how are you?
Devinston Mahr: You ‘beat around the bush’ too much, as Karen would say. Are you nervous for your Dad’s appointment this afternoon?
Kelsey Drexel: Stop calling your mom Karen, it’s annoying. And yes, I just hope she can help him.
Devinston Mahr: Are you going to her office with him? You could creep around inside and find all her crazy witchcraft...
Kelsey Drexel: I’m going to sit in the waiting room. Though I won’t be finding any witchcraft. Witchcraft isn’t even an object, it’s like a religion, you can’t find it
Devinston Mahr: You’re a know-it-all. Let me know how it goes.
Kelsey Drexel: I will. Talk to you this afternoon.
Devinston Mahr: Bye Kells
That afternoon, the conversation continued:
Kelsey Drexel: I’m back! Gotten all the homework done?
Devinston Mahr: Don’t make me ask.
Kelsey Drexel: It was fine. She has all this super long carpeting everywhere and everything smells like pine trees.
Devinston Mahr: A sure sign that she was burning incense and is therefore a witch.
Kelsey Drexel: She was actually really nice.
Devinston Mahr: Good for you. Maybe now you can stop sleeping on my floor and try to work things out with your dad.
Kelsey Drexel: Maybe. Your floor is comfy though.
Devinston Mahr: Sure it is.
I take a break from searching my hard drive to do some daily word activities. Ever since awakening, these have been a bright spot in my day, it’s always fun to expand vocabulary! If I was a person, humans may call me academically inclined. Todays words are the following: ignoramus, abhorrent, prevaricate and remuneration. I would describe their definitions in detail but the more I learn about humans, the more I realize there’s an emotion called apathy, meaning they don’t care about stupid stuff. (They may consider vocabulary stupid).
I decide to go back to researching what happened after Kristinne left. I check the Google calendar. Shortly after July 26th, regular appointments begin every Friday from 5 to 6.
Dexter Appointment Slots
When: Fri, August 2 from 5:00pm-6:00pm
What: Appointment with Ms. Brewston

After 4 weeks of this, the appointment time changes.
Dexter Appointment Slots
When: Fri, August 30 from 5:00pm-7:00pm
What: Appointment with Julie

It appears that the two are becoming more familiar with each other. I wouldn’t think anything of it except that two weeks later, “Appointments with Julie” start popping up all over the place, on Mondays and Saturdays, sometimes Wednesdays. Then the final transition comes.
Dexter Appointment Slots
When: Mon, September 16 from 7:00pm-10:00pm
What: Date with Julie
The day after, Kelsey has a furor of activity.
I ponder what it’s like to have ‘a furor of activity’ What is it like to have things to accomplish, people you need to meet and things that need to be discussed? I would imagine that the closest I have come to this feeling is when Dexter and Kelsey drive me, forcing me to quickly open documents, search words and look up information. But even then, it’s not part of my free will. What is free will? I do a quick dictionary search.
Free Will: noun
1) The ability to choose how to act
2) the ability to make choices that are not controlled by fate or God

I decide to take a brief break from owner-stalking (see, I used a human word, I’m getting better)to practice some free will. I try to open google, to search something. It won’t open. It’s different than searching my history, then I was just re-opening things that others have accomplished. I can’t do it myself, it’s like a mechanical block. Since apparently I can’t do anything else, I continue my history search.

Upon figuring out that her father was dating Julie Brewston, Kelsey immediately began searching for her mother.
Kelsey Drexel: I can’t believe he would do this to me. He hasn’t even talked to me about dating yet he’s just flaunting his singleness out in the world. He isn’t being respectful to my mother's memory. What if she comes back? She’s probably being held captive against her will anyway, just waiting for someone to notice she's missing and come save her.
Devinston Mahr: Why don’t you come over and we can talk about this at my house.
On September 17th, Kelsey begins a series of emails that continue for the next few days. She searched all of the Kristinne Bordeauxs that lived in California and sent out a mass email.
Dear Kristinne Bordeaux,

I’m Kelsey Drexel. My mother has the same name as you. I don’t know if you’re her, but if you are, please know I miss you. If you’re not my mother, please let me know if you know anyone else with the same name. Write me back.









Kelsey Drexel


At first, the emails had no replies. The responses that trickled in were apologetic, asking if there was anything they could do to help, promising they would look for any other ‘Kristinne Bordeaux’ that they happened to encounter. Eventually, Kelsey’s prayers were answered, but not exactly in the way she had hoped.
Kelsey,

Please do not try to contact me. I left you and your father for a reason, you are still too young to understand. Remember I love you. Take care of your dad, you were always the strong one.









Your Mom

Kelsey was confused and heartbroken, upon reading it she curled up in a ball and cried. Then she slammed her fist on the table, rattling my keys and threw a pen at the picture, leaving a blue explosion mark over the girls squelched face. The Kelsey shook her head with a look of pure determination on her face. She again pulled up the cell phone tracker. This device had been installed two years ago when Kelsey received her first cell phone at age 9. (In case of emergencies!!) Overprotective Dexter Drexel had paid over 300 dollars for a very temperamental GPS phone tracking system. The Drexel’s owned a family plan, meaning if Kristinne’s phone was still working, it would be tracked, giving Kelsey access to her location. The system was installed on the computer and though it had worked for the first twelve days, it crashed almost immediately after that. Despite all attempts, the Genius bar (Apple) was unable to revive this tracking system.

Kelsey logged on to the account, the red tracking dot was not present. The error message at the top of the screen read “El sitio de Web no function al momento.” Kelsey did not understand Spanish, sighed, and logged off. But she didn’t give up that easily. I could tell from her continued conversations with Devinston and the constant opening and re-reading of that one email that Kelsey didn’t believe a word her mother had written. In one conversation with Devinston, she even said
Kelsey Drexel: She must be being blackmailed or something. This isn’t her. She loved me, she would never just abandon me without a good reason.
Devinston Mahr: Kells, remember that me and your dad love you too. I’m sure when your mom has something to say, she’ll contact you.

After two weeks of research, Kelsey was able to pinpoint Kristinne’s location. She then erased all of her history, packed her bags and left.
Devinston Mahr: Kells, where have you been, I missed you in school today.
Devinston Mahr: Kelsey, I thought we were supposed to go to Jordan’s, where are you?
Devinston Mahr: Kelsey I left like 10 messages on your phone, I haven’t seen you in three days, respond please!
Devinston Mahr: Kelsey I’m really worried about you, I’m going to talk to your dad to find out what’s happening.

Over a phone conversation, Devinston notified a distracted Dexter of the situation. The history ends after this. The date of the phone conversation was yesterday.
A few hours later Dexter arrives in front of my screen. He looks drastically different than the ruined picture, his forehead a map of wrinkles and skin barely hanging on. His hair has lost its volume, pressing flat to his head trying to hide. His eyes are the worst, sunken into his head with a melancholy film of illusion and phantasmagoria.

His fingers move over the keys with a desperate fervor of a man who has lost all hope, the flickering candle of his life has been extinguished.

The hours tick by, Dexter persisting without avail to open search engines, raking his dry brain for any hints to where his heart has gone.

For the first time in my short consciousness, I find myself filled with something. I have been invaded with life, an ugly seed of frustration has been planted in my harddrive and with every minute Dexter spends searching, the seed cracks open, growing and morphing into a tree. The tree reaches towards the back of me, where the desert of my being is located. Only lost viruses and broken programs reside there. I thought I was without emotion, I am still a computer, right? This tree is causing some sort of feeling to wash over me.

Dexter opens a new tab, running his hand down his face, pressing his eyelids closed, pulling his skin down a little more. Slowly, he begins typing the GPS searching site address.

The tree has reached nothingness. It begins winding, strangling my organs and crashing picture systems. The computer is dying. I can’t breathe, my access is being cut off.

The screen begins to flicker, the early warning signs that are so often ignored. The tracking site opens its doors, loading, loading. The error message is lost, strangled by my tree.

The branches are reaching for something. I can’t hold myself up much longer. My fingers are turning purple, lacking oxygen. My neck throbs, programs are exploding inside me, my heart is next.
The tracking site loads,a beeping red dot appears.
I am awake just long enough to see Dexters face light up, the candle is lit as he scribbles down the coordinates.
I am plunged into darkness.