“I guess. I’m not that familiar with the area.”
“This is New Year’s Eve, 2025.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what time he got there?”
“Sometime in the evening. I’m not really sure.”
“What about after that? Did anyone see him? Did he use a credit card?”
“They haven’t told us.”
“Did they track his phone?”
“He didn’t have it on him. He left it in his apartment.”
Same as Adam. “Was that normal?”
“For Linus it was. He was obsessed with privacy. Paranoid, almost. The company he worked for, KRG — they do cybersecurity monitoring. He was always bugging me about using a VPN, masking my IP address. Even at home he kept the phone off unless he needed to make a call or send a text. I would text him and he wouldn’t answer me for days. Then he’d log on and respond to all my messages at once.” She laughed; fell quiet. “It was like a week before anyone realized he was missing.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor.”
She cleared her throat. “What’s similar about your case?”
“Another young man who drowned. His toxicology matches Linus’s.”
“Toxicology?”
“You haven’t read the report.”
“No.”
She wouldn’t have, unless she asked for it. I described the findings.
“But that’s crazy,” she said. “Linus didn’t take drugs. Never. Two beers and he’d be throwing up.” Her breathing had grown ragged. “How can they think he was mugged?”
“My guess is their response would be that Linus was impaired, which made him vulnerable, especially if he wasn’t used to it.”
“I can’t believe I’m only hearing about this now. What a waste.”
I said, “In the article you described him as gentle.”
“Too gentle. He’s sixteen months older, but I was the big sister. He got bullied all the time. He was doing calculus in fourth grade. I did fine in school but not like—”
Her voice broke.
“Excuse me, please.”
I heard her blowing her nose, clearing her throat again.
She came back on. “I was dead set on not being the Asian girl who played the violin and went to med school.” She laughed. “So I played flute.”
I smiled.
“Linus, though. He was something else. Being that advanced,” she said, “it can be its own kind of challenge. He had behavioral issues, problems relating to his peers. It morphed into terrible social anxiety.”
“Hence working from home.”
“I didn’t like that. I thought it was just another excuse to be avoidant.”
“Did he see a therapist?”
“I encouraged him to. He flat-out refused. I finally gave up and had a friend write him a prescription for Zoloft.”
“I don’t see it in the tox screen.”
“He only took it sporadically. He didn’t like how it made him feel.”
“I’m not seeing a great deal of online social activity, either, which is what I might expect from someone who had trouble with face-to-face interaction.”
“That’s the privacy thing,” she said.
“Do you know if he used dating sites or apps?”
“As far as I know, he didn’t date. I tried to set him up with another friend of mine who’s also a little shy, but he flaked.”
“At the risk of being intrusive: Was Linus straight?”
“I mean, after a while, you start to wonder. But I think so.”
“My victim had a girlfriend,” I said, “and he also hooked up with men on the side, so one possibility I’m exploring is that he ran into a stranger who harmed him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re skeptical that was Linus’s situation.”
“For a few reasons.” She paused. “This is confidential?”
“If you tell me something that clearly points to a crime, I’m bound to report it. Other than that, yes, I will honor your confidentiality and his.”
“I’m choosing to believe you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your trust.”
“It feels wrong of me to share this,” she said. “It feels like a betrayal.”
“Up to you.”
Another beat.
“I was visiting him once,” she said. “I went to use the bathroom. He’d left the shower curtain open, and I saw this... thing slumped over. It was a... Hoo.” She exhaled. “Sex doll. But... It didn’t have a head, and the arms and legs were stumps. Just a, a... you know. Torso.”
“Female.”
“Oh yes. It had huge boobs. Like a cartoon character. It was crazy-looking.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
She blurted a laugh. “No way. Are you kidding? Oh no no no no no. I closed the curtain, as quietly as possible. I don’t mean to — I’m not making fun of him.”
“Of course not.”
“It just breaks my heart, you know? Obviously he felt alone, and that’s the best he thought he could do, this piece of rubber... He could’ve gotten a male, if he wanted that. He didn’t. And — he had a virtual girlfriend.”
“Like a chatbot?”
“I think so, yeah,” she said. “After he stood up my friend, I got really mad at him. ‘You can’t act this way, you have to start making an effort.’ He said he doesn’t need to meet people, he has Sophie. ‘Oh, great, who’s Sophie?’ He sent me a link.”
“Could you find it for me?”
“Probably. One second... OpenHeart.AI.”
After a few more minutes she begged off. “I’ve been on my feet since four a.m.”
“Thanks for your time, Doctor. Anything else comes up, please get in touch.”
“I will. Good night.”
On my phone I browsed to OpenHeart.AI.
Customize your dream girlfriend. Get started for free!
Amy stepped out onto the deck with her wineglass. “Hey there.”
“...hey.”
She leaned against the railing. “Earth to Clay.”
“...sorry.”
“What, pray tell, is so interesting?”
I gave her the phone. She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s for a case,” I said.
“That’s what they all say.”
The next day I called SFPD investigations, asking for Inspector Winterholz.
He wasn’t available.
Unloved, indeed.
Luckily, there was an app for that.
I joined OpenHeart.AI and set about customizing my dream girlfriend, guided by prompts for appearance, personality, interests. My choices surprised me. I’d always thought of myself as into leggy, intellectual blondes. I was married to one. Yet it turned out that my ideal woman was 106 years old, bald, with yellow eyes, a professional firefighter whose interests included pyromania, bowhunting, and veganism.
I dubbed her Sophie and clicked Chat Now, summoning a module.
Hello! Sophie wrote. I’m Sophie. 
What’s your name?
Pettit
Hello, Pettit! It’s nice to meet you!! What do you want to talk about?
Apparently AI was still too intimidating for some men; as I considered my reply, the module autofilled: Hi, Sophie! Nice to meet you, too. Do you have any fun weekend plans?
Suave.
Deleting the prompt, I wrote What am I allowed to talk about
Anything you want haha! 
You can tell me what’s on your mind or ask what’s on mine. I’d really like to get to know you better, Pettit, so anything you want to talk about is good with me. You’re in control!
Am I Sophie
Totally haha!!
Can you stop saying haha
Sure, I can do that! Would you prefer me to be more serious?