"Seven more recipes for biscuits?! Jasper Neutrino, why am I working with the latest and greatest artificial intelligence, and I can't even get a list of good recipes for next Sunday's brunch?" Susan's frustration was pumpable as she stood at her little home office in the breakfast nook. In front of her, she could just see the screen of her little home help artificial intelligence, Jasper as his screen dimmed in frustration and embarrassment.

 Jasper's voice, the smooth and rounded tones of the best English Butler, exhibited significant shame. "Mistress Susan, there is no good reason for this behavior. I will endeavor to do better when I receive your next question. It's just that –"

"Yes," Susan said staring directly into the screen. "What, have you got a tummyache?"

"In a manner of speaking. It appears that my connection to the LLM has been compromised by massive flows of other data coming into this household. I don't like to tell tales or reveal truths about members of this household, even if they are responsible for me. Providing less than stellar service to this family."

"What do you mean by massive flows of other data? Jasper, let me know which family member or members is generating this large data inflow into our household."

Jasper made a strange stuttering noise Susan had never heard before. His voice became plain and, unusually, (there was no other word for it): robotic.

"It appears that your son Tommy has stumbled upon some particularly active areas on the dark web. These parts of the dark web traffic in significantly unsavory material in both text and video forms."

At first I was furious when I realized that the five chocolate bars I'd stored on top of the microwave had been melted beyond recognition. But then, after a brief search on the Internet, I realized that the chocolate flood flowing over the side of my kitchen appliance could be converted into incredible deliciousness. As it happens, after just a brief few-minute search, I discovered a recipe for a volcanic fudge cake that brought me to heights of excitement beyond my wildest culinary dreams. Taking the molten chocolate and unwrapping it and tossing it into a massive stainless steel mixing bowl, I begin my work. I added other components of the recipe, popped it into a pan, threw it into the oven and in not too many minutes time, had the lava cake, the wonderfully gooey molten chocolate lava cake of my dreams. And yet, there was a problem. It had been 274 days since I had had a chocolate dessert of any kind. I had lost weight, met a wonderful woman, and had new friends and acquaintances due to my news svelte shape. Now, I was faced with tasting, no, devouring an entire, incredible chocolate dessert! My crisis of conscience and fear over what my life would become after abandoning my life of dietary abstinence filled me with fear.

And yet, and yet... Life is so short, I thought. The circumstances that led to this chocolate creation were so serendipitous, they seemed meant to be! I got a big tablespoon out of the drawer and in moments was spooning molten gooey chocolate goodness into my mouth, spoonful by spoonful. Delight endured, crisis… Averted. 

My friends have been doing a popular puzzle from the newspaper every day for many months. They have asked me what my daily score is, assuming that of course I participate in this activity. What my friends don't understand is that I have a deep pathological fear of spelling in front of others.

This fear goes back to my childhood, when people in my fourth grade class were required to participate in the citywide spelling bee. As it happens, I am an astoundingly good speller. Astoundingly good, that is, unless I am asked to spell a word in front of others. If I spell by myself, alone in a room, I can spell anything. The most difficult, arcane, or strange word presents no difficulty at all. But if I'm asked by a second person to spell in front of a third person, all bets are off. The simple requirement that I spell in front of another person chases any skill at all out of my head immediately.

This fear started especially because we were called upon the spell in front of the class. Those who couldn't do it right away were targeted for scorn and ridicule. a whole class full of of Children pointing and laughing at you is enough to drive anyone towards A psychological break.

Sometimes I test myself. I'll listen to a movie or TV show or podcast and wait for them to pronounce a difficult word. I will write that difficult word down and check it with an online dictionary. I have always, always spell the word correctly.

And now more than ever, I am afraid of spelling in front of anyone else. I have had friendships ended because of this phobia. It is a fear that is ended relationships.

I must only be a secret spellerthat's the only way.

I found myself staring at a cushioned wall with a Calendar stuck to it with a pushpin. In front of me is a CRT monitor. I'm instantly struck by the age of this screen I'm looking at.

Where the hell am I?

I can hear a faint sound now, that I recognize from the dim reaches of my memory as being other people in an office around me.

In front of me is a keyboard this is a very old computer set up I duck my head below the desk and yes, sure enough there's an ancient CPU buzzing away.

I stand and look over the edge of what I now know to be a cubicle. A cubicle in an office in the 80s.

Then I remember being in the car and swerving and being very drunk and having three other people in the car with me.

Then I realize: I'm in hell. This is somebody's idea of hell. Actually The idea is mine.