**Amanda**

Alki Beach. It was the destination Amanda often gravitated towards when the weight of the world became too heavy for her shoulders to bear. With a view of the Puget Sound and Seattle skyline, there was something magical about this stretch of sand on the outskirts of the Emerald City. Waves crashed rhythmically against the shore. Seagulls sailed through the air singing tone deaf tunes. Horns from ferries and large container ships echoed in the distance. The aroma of fish and chips surfed the chilly autumn winds. A Statue of Liberty held her torch with pride as she gazed aimlessly towards the north.

Amanda pulled a blanket tightly around her upper body and stared at the small replica of New York City's famous monument. As she balanced her laptop on her legs, she realized how appropriate it was to be sitting here in the shadow of the mini imposter. An imitation of something far superior. A metaphor for the human connections in her life.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that her virtual experiences were another form of physical reality, she couldn't. Her hopes were always greeted with evidence of technology's inferiority when compared to humanity's complexities. The internet existed somewhere in nothingness--its content manipulated by deception and distorted by personal fantasies. And just like this fake-ass Statue of Liberty, Amanda's online relationships were only electronic replicas of the real thing--digital replacements for the tangible connections she so desperately ached for.

Cyber-nothingness could never physically hold her, and the person she knew as Ian was included in that nothingness.

Although they were unable to offer a physical shoulder to cry on, Amanda's friends were the closest thing to a tangible friendship the internet could provide. In some ways, their digital existence may have been superior to their tangible counterparts. After all, Amanda's friends could be by her side at a moment's notice, carrying the electric shockwaves needed to restart her bruised heart. This was assuming the batteries in Amanda's electronic devices were properly charged.

Amanda peeked at her laptop monitor through her fingers while video chatting with her three friends.

[Geri: "Wait!" Geri shouted, waving her hands and shaking her head. "Explain it one more time. I must be missing something."]

Amanda exhaled a long breath. "He liked my open letter. I nearly peed myself with excitement. Then a few minutes later, practically everyone from Wattpad Headquarters liked it. Excitement canceled. End of story."

[Jeannie: "But he liked it first?" Jeannie's voice increased a couple octaves towards end of the sentence as if she wasn't sure of her own question.]

"Yep." Amanda pulled a rubber band out of her ponytail and raked her fingers through her wind-blown hair. When everything else in life took on a special shade of shitty, at least there was still ponytail hope. Although the perfect ponytail rarely happened, it did happen occasionally. Maybe right now would be Amanda's lucky moment.

Scooping her hair on top of her head, Amanda secured the ponytail with the rubber band and glanced at her reflection in a Kate Spade compact mirror. Nope. Not today.

[Mona: "Architect Program?" Mona appeared to be reading something offscreen. "I shall call all my lovers Architect Programs from now on." Throwing her hands in the air, she shouted, "Use my body as an energy source! I will erect your matrix!"]

Biting the inside of her cheeks while the heat of embarrassment washed over her face, Amanda said, "I see you found my open letter."

[Jeannie: "But how did Ian find it? There are millions of stories on Wattpad. He HAD to be checking your profile out. I can't think of any other explanation."]

Shrugging her shoulders, Amanda replied, "Or maybe someone saw Wattpad in the title and emailed it out to everyone for a laugh? Why else would so many people from headquarters like it?"

[Geri: "He liked it first, though," Geri repeated. "That must mean something."]

"If it meant something," Amanda argued, "then why wouldn't he just tell me it meant something?"

[Jeannie: "Maybe he wasn't sure if your letter was about him?"]

[Mona: With eyes still focused on something offscreen, Mona questioned, "Little spec of dust?" She was referring to one of the last lines in Amanda's open letter to the mysterious Wattpad engineer. "Why are you the little spec of dust and he's the big, infinite universe?"]

Amanda contemplated Mona's comment for a moment. "I guess I was feeling small or something?"

[Mona: Wagging a finger at her laptop's camera, Mona replied, "Why be a grain of rice when you can be the whole sexy buffet?"]

Without thinking, random words fell out of Amanda's mouth. "But the sexy buffet would never be whole without that single grain of rice." Puzzled by her own statement, Amanda glanced at the clock on her laptop and added, "On that note, I've gotta go. I have that video chat in an hour."

[Jeannie: "Who did you say it was with?]

"Delta--or something like that? I just remember it was an airline."

[Geri: "I've been on and off of Wattpad since 2013, and I've never been invited for a video chat with anyone at headquarters. And what is this--your second chat in less than two weeks? Are you working for them?"]

"I wish!" Amanda pondered Geri's comment for a brief moment before adding her disclaimer. "It's a coincidence. The chats are completely unrelated. Apparently this one has something to do with research. They're asking random users how they think fictional stories can change the world."

[Jeannie: "Coincidence is such an unusual concept, don't you think?" Jeannie paused for a beat. It was unclear if her question was rhetorical or awaiting a response.]

[Geri: "What do you mean, J?"]

[Jeannie: Shrugging her shoulders, she replied, "Coincidence just seems like a word a pessimist might use to describe fate."]

**Ian at Wattpad Headquarters**

Delta strolled into the Team Goonies' work area, a bashful grin on her face. "Mouth?"

Mouth glanced up at a woman sporting a modernized 1950's outfit. Orange scarf holding up her ponytail. Chenille Wattpad patch on the chest of her black sweater. Feet decked out in a morphed version of heeled Mary Janes and saddle shoes.

"Would you be able to help me?" Delta asked. "I'm having problems with video chat."

Standing up before scooting his chair back, Mouth slammed his body into the underside of his desk, knocking a container of pens and pencils on the floor. Ian and Sloth redirected their attentions from computer monitors to Mouth just in time to witness the unfolding debacle.

Rubbing his hip while appearing to suppress the sounds of pain, Mouth stuttered, "Um--yeah. What did you--uhh? Yeah."

Delta bent down to help Mouth gather his things off the floor. "I really appreciate it," she said.

"No problemo," Mouth replied as he tossed the last few writing utensils in his pencil holder. Without taking his eyes off Delta, he set the pencil holder back on his desk.

Delta opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She watched in stunned silence as the container of pens and pencils missed the desktop and hit the floor once more.

"Jesus Christ," Sloth mumbled from behind his monitor.

Sweeping the utensils under his desk with the side of his foot, Mouth said, "I can look at your computer now if you want."

Delta nodded with a smile and turned in the direction of her work area. Mouth followed like Dopey, Snow White's dwarf, as they walked out of view.

Ian tapped the keys on his keyboard for a couple minutes before turning to face Sloth. "Hey," he began. The remainder of Ian's sentence disappeared into the blackhole of nothingness the moment he saw moisture welling up at the base of his coworker's eyes--Sloth's attention glued to his screen. Ian froze like a statue, his mouth gaped open.

After a brief moment of silence, Sloth glanced up towards Ian. "Fuck you."

Shoulders rising towards his ears with upward palms on each side of his face, Ian gave Sloth a whatthefuckdidIdo look.

Sloth cleared his throat and ran the top of his hand under his nose. With arms tightly gripped across his chest, Sloth's eyes softened as he continued to read whatever was on his screen.

"What are you reading?" Ian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sloth didn't respond immediately. He continued to read until it appeared as though he reached a stopping point. From there, he turned towards Ian and stared at his coworker for an extended and uncomfortable period of time. Side glancing his monitor, he eventually mumbled, "The Vampire Who Shits Himself."

"Excuse me?" Ian asked.

Motioning towards his monitor with both hands as though he were a gameshow hostess highlighting a special prize, Sloth said, "The shitting vampire. Who would've thought this story would be so--emotionally gripping--and spiritually enlightening?"

Ian couldn't tell if Sloth was genuine or pulling his leg. "Are you being serious?"

Sloth turned his monitor around so it faced Ian. The story of The Vampire Who Shits Himself filled the screen. "I'm not shitting you. Have you read this?"

Ian scooted over to Sloth's desk. As Ian propelled his wheeled chair across the room, Sloth gave him a brief summary of the story to set the scene. Both men fell silent as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder and read the words on the screen.

**Ian--Eleven minutes and twelve seconds later**

The two coworkers were glassy-eyed and frozen, mesmerized by the contents on the monitor. Ian's shoulder was pressed firmly against Sloth's as they unconsciously fought for prime positioning to read every captivating word.

"Wow," Ian whispered. "Just--wow."

"I know, right?" Sloth replied, grabbing a stapler to squeeze in his palm. "That blood transfusion--with the Atari and Buddhist monk?"

Ian shook his head, then drawled, "Brutal." Sniffing liquified emotions up in his nostrils, he pointed at the screen. "Or the Girl Scout cookie crumbs in the jock strap?"

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, Sloth whispered, "Don't even get me started on the scene where the tampon was tied to the end of the wooden stake."

"Brilliant storytelling," Ian whispered, resting his chin on praying hands.

Sloth squeezed the stapler repeatedly, a pile of staples collecting on his desk. "My entire perception of life has been changed by this--shitter."

The sound of someone clearing his throat snapped Ian and Sloth out of their daze. They looked up to find Mouth staring at them with a curled lip and furrowed brows. "What the hell is wrong with you two?" the sandaled friend asked.

Ian and Sloth discretely wiped away any traces of eye and nose moisture as they repeatedly cleared their throats until their voices returned to their normal tones.

Ian scooted across the room back to his desk.

Sloth crumpled up a piece of paper and tossed it towards a waste basket. He missed.

When all seemed settled and back to normal, Mouth looked at Ian and grinned. "Guess who I just saw?"

Ian shrugged his shoulders, refusing to look at Mouth since he was still reigning in the emotional impact of the shitting vampire. "Who?"

"Yoda," Mouth replied.

A jolt shot through Ian's solar plexus, triggering a whole new series of emotions. He snapped his head towards Mouth and said, "What?"

Mouth smirked. "Delta's interviewing her now." Nodding in the direction of Delta's work area, he added, "You should go check it out."