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I register as a Decker, set up my profile, upload an old photo off my Instagram, and I’m good to go.
Nothing like receiving seven messages in my first five minutes to make me feel a little less lonely—even though one guy is throwing some bullshit about having the cure to death in his pants and yo, I’ll take death instead.
MATEO
3:14 a.m.
I adjust the settings on my profile so I’ll only be visible to anyone between the ages of sixteen and eighteen; older men and women can no longer hit on me. I take it one step further and now only registered Deckers can connect with me so I don’t have to deal with anyone looking to buy a couch or pot. This diminishes the online numbers significantly. I’m sure there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of teens who received the alert today, but there are only eighty-nine registered Deckers between the ages of sixteen and eighteen online right now. I receive a message from an eighteen-year-old girl named Zoe, but I ignore it when I see a profile for a seventeen-year-old named Rufus; I’ve always liked that name. I click on his profile.
Name: Rufus Emeterio
Age: 17.
Gender: Male.
Height: 5’10”.
Weight: 169 lbs.
Ethnicity: Cuban-American.
Orientation: Bisexual.
Job: Professional Time Waster.
Interests: Cycling. Photography.
Favorite Movies / TV Shows / Books:
Who You Were in Life: I survived something I shouldn’t have.
Bucket List: Do it up.
Final Thoughts: It’s about time. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m gonna go out right.
I want more time, more lives, and this Rufus Emeterio has already accepted his fate. Maybe he’s suicidal. Suicide can’t be predicted specifically, but the death itself is still foreseen. If he is self-destructive, I shouldn’t be around him—he might actually be the reason I’m about to clock out. But his photo clashes with that theory: he’s smiling and he has welcoming eyes. I’ll chat with him and, if I get a good vibe, he might be the kind of guy whose honesty will make me face myself.
I’m going to reach out. There’s nothing risky about hello.
Mateo T. (3:17 a.m.): sorry you’ll be lost, Rufus.
I’m not used to reaching out to strangers like this. There have been a few times in the past I considered setting up a profile to keep Deckers company, but I didn’t think I could provide much for them. Now that I’m a Decker myself I understand the desperation to connect even more.
Rufus E. (3:19 a.m.): Hey, Mateo. Nice hat.
He not only responded, but he likes my Luigi hat from my profile picture. He’s already connecting to the person I want to become.
Mateo T. (3:19 a.m.): Thanks. Think I’m going to leave the hat here at home. I don’t want the attention.
Rufus E. (3:19 a.m.): Good call. A Luigi hat isn’t exactly a baseball cap, right?
Mateo T. (3:19 a.m.): Exactly.
Rufus E. (3:20 a.m.): Wait. You haven’t left your house yet?
Mateo T. (3:20 a.m.): Nope.
Rufus E. (3:20 a.m.): Did you just get the alert a few minutes ago?
