I placed my brand new rifle and a bag of ammo cases in the passenger seat of my truck. I drove an old 2013 Toyota Tacoma. I bought it my senior year of high school from my old neighbor’s widow. He died suddenly of a heart attack and his wife was far too happy to get rid of his old belongings. It was a nice deal and has been extremely cost effective in my time using it. I turned the ignition and it came to life with a cold breath of air conditioning. It was just starting to turn hot enough to need it this time of year.
I plugged my phone into the Aux cord. Usually, I would play music or an audiobook in the background as I drove. Instead I wanted to start a new habit. I went to my contacts app and began to call Alice. She answered nearly immediately. Her voice was the same high pitch with a hint of nervousness in it. The technology of my modern phone provided far better sound quality than Sofia’s flip phone.
“H-hello? W-why did you c-call?”
I thought back to how kidnapping victims often escaped their captors. Despite being free to live in my own apartment and move as I please, I was effectively held captive. A guillotine was being held over my head by a demon who wanted me to help fight her wars with other demons. Not considering the supernatural elements at play, this was a textbook example of the use violence to force other’s actions. I was a captive. One way that captives can seek to escape is through developing a connection to their captor.
It’s not well established or widely supported in psychology, but a theory was proposed following the 1996 Japanese Embassy Hostage Crisis in Peru that captors can grow psychologically attached to their hostages and begin to grow sympathy for them. This is called Lima Syndrome. There are numerous flaws with this theory, primarily that it defines the basic human instinct of sympathy as an odd mental condition that captors can develop. Regardless of the many issues present with Lima Syndrome’s basis in psychology, it was my best chance of escaping.
No one knew of my plight. It is unlikely that law enforcement would believe me if I attempted to get assistance. I couldn’t wait for rescue like a normal hostage situation. I needed to proactively try to escape. Physically running away was a death sentence. Garnering sympathy to escape was the best choice. The best place to start was with my cell guard who I would need to familiarize myself with. Alice was shy. That was about all I knew about her. That and she could live in my wifi. The goal of my call was simple.
“If you’re going to watch me from now on, I’d like to at least get to know you. I hope that’s okay.”
I simply needed to be friends with Alice. Her antisocial nature would make it difficult, but it’s not like she could ignore me.
“Oh… yeah... I mean, I guess.”
She stuttered as she spoke. There was a lot of uncertainty in her voice. I didn’t want to be intimidating to her. I’m sure if I stared or focused too much it would scare her. I began to pull out of the parking lot and begin my drive home. I would multitask while speaking. Make it seem normal and friendly between us.
“So tell me about yourself. Like where are you from?”
She seemed to hesitate a little before speaking. I could hear her shallow breathing on the other end and what sounded like her rummaging through something.
“I-I grew up in Virginia. In Alexandria.”
I took a mental note of that statement. If I could find more details, I may be able to track down who she was before this demonic nonsense. A location is a good start. I kept the conversation on that topic. I needed to not sound like I was probing and instead trying to be genuine friends.
“In the DC area? What was it like?”
Alexandria is one of the richest suburbs in the United States. I’m curious how she ended up here if she was from there.
“I-it was alright… I guess. I didn’t go out much.”
She was being purposely vague and guarded. I wonder if she was under orders to maintain a semblance of distance. I could only try to keep talking.
“Why was that?”
She didn’t respond. I tried to back pedal.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to be friendly. You don’t have to-”
“I-it’s alright!”
She yelled suddenly. It wasn’t anger but surprise in her voice.
“I-I’m just not used to t-talking about myself! Or t-talking in general… People usually just t-text and tell me to do things. They d-don’t really ask about m-myself.”
It took me a moment before speaking. Alice clearly was socially starved. I could relate to that loneliness, but she probably experienced it far worse. I remembered how her body appeared. She was definitely neglecting herself inside these computers.
“It’s okay. Trust me, I understand how you feel. But I’d like to get to know you. And while we’re at it, you can ask questions about me.”
That seemed to be a fair offer. In truth, I expected to share some information about myself. That’s just how conversations went. But to a social shut-in, explaining social interactions in terms of that sort of exchanges of ideas made it more approachable. She took a second before responding.
“Y-yeah, that sounds good.”