Page 84 of Someone Just Followed You

‘Well, it’s my professional opinion that this Coco chick is actually a dude. Probably a middle-aged white guy who lives alone and can’t form genuine social bonds, if you believe the profilers.’

Nikki drops her forehead into her palms, feels tears burn her eyes. ‘Tom, can you do me a favor and stop treating this like another day at the office? This is my face staring back at me, attached to a website I knew nothing about until it was linked to the case of a missing child. And I still don’t really have a clue how I’m involved in all of this.’

‘Shit, sorry,’ Tom says, instantly contrite. ‘Because yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing. As soon as AI-image-generation models became open-source a few years ago, this problem of fake images exploded, so the sad fact is, this kind of thing has become normal for me. But you’re right, each time it happens is still horrific.’

Nikki takes a long, slow breath. ‘So you’re saying that Coco is most likely some kind of online predator?’

‘I’m sorry, but yeah, that would be my guess. That Coco is a whole fake persona using your image to befriend kids.’

Nikki shudders, breathes. ‘This channel though, it’s not your average teen content,’ she says, still clinging to the hope that Tom’s somehow wrong. ‘She – or he – says they’re investigating the murder of a teenage girl.’ Nikki searches through her hungover brain for the name. ‘Sophie Lyle,’ she spurts out, suddenly remembering. ‘And that’s pretty niche, isn’t it? So why would they do that?’

The line goes quiet for a while, and Nikki finds herself suddenly desperate for Tom’s blasé office voice. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally says. ‘Maybe it’s a fetish thing. Or maybe he thinks vulnerable teenage girls are more into true crime than makeup or whatever these days. But you said a girl’s gone missing …’

‘You think he could be the one who killed Sophie Lyle?’ Nikki asks, her voice breaking.

‘No. I mean, how would I know?’ Tom says quickly. ‘I guess it just feels like a creepy coincidence.’

‘Fuck,’ Nikki spits out. ‘What is it with these kids who make their besties on Snapchat?’

‘Well, if the guy’s tech-savvy, and can afford hardware with the fastest processing speeds, he’ll be able to do a lot more than send snaps.’

‘Like what?’

‘Voice notes, video messages. Even live video calls.’

‘Live video calls as me? How can that be possible?’

‘AI makes the gap between virtual and reality microscopically narrow. Too narrow for the naked eye basically. You know, a finance worker in Hong Kong was persuaded to transfer twenty-five million dollars of company money to a fraudster presenting as his CFO in a video conference. It’s crazy.’

Nikki closes her eyes. ‘So what do I do?’ she whispers.

‘Report it to the Cyber tip line. And if there’s a missing child involved, call the police.’

Chapter 99

Maple

@ChrisJBrent02, TikTok

So yeah, I’ve been off grid since Friday, camping with Lola in the Nevada desert. It was epic, but I’m back online now. So what’s been happening in TikTok land?

I stir, reach consciousness. I don’t know how I’m managing to sleep in this hellhole. Maybe my brain is forcing some time-out on me because the reality is too terrifying. But when I open my eyes, Brandon is staring at me. I scream.

‘Shush,’ he hisses. ‘Or I’ll gag you again.’

I remember the panic of not being able to breathe and ram my lips together. I contract my chest muscles, plead with my body to relax. When Brandon told me that he was Coco – last night I think, because there’s a dim sense of morning seeping through the layers of newspaper on the windows now – I couldn’t think straight. My brain felt like a drill, shooting sharp pieces of debris around my skull. So I shut it down, went mute. He hated that, not being able to get a reaction out of me. And eventually he gave up trying.

But now he’s back. To try again.

‘You still look shocked, babe,’ he says, tipping his head to one side, in a way – some sick, horrific way – that reminds me of Coco. ‘Which is a surprise because I thought you Gen Alpha kids were savvy about fakes.’

Fake. Coco is all fake. Just a sick pedophile, the lowest form of human, pretending to be my best friend. I think about all the snaps we’ve sent each other. How good it felt to be totally myself with Coco, not Maybe Maple the influencer, or Maple Clark, the student navigating popularity. Just me goofing around, talking about boys, getting sad one minute and crazy the next. Me trying on new outfits, confessing my darkest secrets, like my dad not being my real dad. This freak knows it all.

Does he still paw over all the pictures I’ve sent him?

Then another thought hits me. It was Coco who told me my image was on the dark web, naked pictures of me using AI, the same fate Ella suffered. But was it him, Brandon, who created them in the first place?

‘Not that it was all fake, you know,’ he says, his expression becoming earnest. ‘Yes, I had to use face-swapping technology, and voice cloning, and a little synthetic media to make sure you’d like me. But the person behind Coco is the real me. I’m who you became best friends with, Maple.’