I built a man from discarded parts, mostly found online. His brain was an alt-right podcast; his heart, an incel chatbot.

I charged his phone with a lightning strike. He scrolled with borrowed thumbs, demanding I build him a female. When the battery died he sat forlorn, staring into darkness.

Joe Pearson is a British fiction writer living in Paris. He’s trying to use his phone less. You can find more of his writing at joepearsonwriter.com.