a website that promises delights untold — merely upload your visage, it says, and it will show you how you might look when you grow old, or how you might’ve looked with blue eyes or brown, or with a different gender. “think of it”, whispers the website. “think of how much fun you’ll have with your friends, in fact they’ve already joined us here:” the website streams audio, gleeful cries of countless voices, some you even recognize as people close to you. you jump at the chance to taste such joy, and before you know it, you’re uploading your photo.
within moments, however, you feel a deep dread seeping into the corners of your vision. the website’s interface begins to flicker uneasily, like one of a thousand fluorescent overheads at your office. the pitch of the playing audio warps and dips, and the lowering tones reveal that the indecipherable hollering of your friends was not so joyful after all — the voices start to come through hoarse and terrified; you have the sense each scream has been emitting for a long, long time.
as the upload nears completion, your vision blurs and darkens, and as you reach up to scratch an itch on your nose, your fingers find smooth skin and your stomach dives — as the image on the screen becomes clearer, the features on your face are smeared away. a noise of unequaled horror not unlike those of your friends rises involuntarily and feel it caught at the top of your throat, no mouth to escape through.