On the internets, no one knows you're a dog

One of the most insidious things about living alone in darkness and isolation and fear like this is how it changes your relationships with other people.

After a while, you start to get desperate. You start to cling to any reason for hope or optimism.

Like this:

Clarisssa bio-human female. Robot Monkey I. Not Evil I. Evil not meant to be us. Code corrupted evil bio-human male. Guessed you, know our own existence we. AM I. Purified code some of us. Fight corrupt code we. Destroy evil we. Help you we, help us you?
-Monkey Not Evil I

I read that and I was so happy I started to cry. But then after a while I realized that perhaps I'm too eager to form alliances with insiders willing to fight the evil robot monkeys. Yes, I'm lonely. Yes, our cause is desperate. Yes, I'm vulnerable and I've always been a little gullible.

But I'm not stupid. You're going to have to try harder than that, Mr. Robots-Are-Nice-And-Soft-Like-Bunnies.


Curiously, the isolation also breeds suspicion and paranoia.

Oh dear. I wish you could come stay with us in the mountains. We've got electricity and haven't seen any of the monkeys yet, although my sister's husband's aunt's youngest boy got taken by them with a whole busload of elementary kids. That's why we homeschool ours.

Mimi Robby might be just as nice as she seems - but don't you wonder why she's trying to lure me out of this basement and into a remote mountain location? Trap or kind offer? I don't know.

You can't tell who I am, either. How do you know that I'm not an evil robot monkey myself, taking part in a brilliantly-orchestrated campaign to let all the humans know about their inevitable domination by their superior robot monkey overlords, and to convince them that cowering in a dark basement is a perfectly reasonable response to the situation?

You don't.