I met an online friend I chatted with every day in real life.
What I didn’t expected is that, the one sitting across from me turned out to be a dog.
I looked him up and down. He was covered in smooth white fur, except for a big black patch around his left eye, as if he had been punched — or as if he were a pirate. The moment he saw me, he wagged his tail and pounced toward me, looking eager to jump up and lick my chin.
I turned around and left.
“Wait! Why are you leaving? Just because I’m a dog?”
The little dog spoke.
Only then did I suddenly remember that his online username seemed to be Sir.
“Isn’t this basically fraud? People online always say the person you’re chatting with might just be a dog. Turns out it was actually true.”
“When you chat with a person, you lower your head with your palm facing up. When you chat with a dog, you lower your head with your palm facing down. There’s not that much difference, really.”
Sir lifted his chin and gestured toward the street. I looked over and saw that everyone along the roadside had their heads lowered, playing with their phones, showing joy, anger, sorrow, and delight to their screens. All at once, I found myself growing interested in this little dog.
“This is actually a popular disease of the new era, you know?” Sir said with a smile when he saw that I had stopped.
I shook my head.
“Don’t believe me? Watch.”
As he spoke, he strolled over to someone and bared his teeth, blocking their way. But the person did not react at all. They walked straight toward him and nearly stepped on his tail. Sir quickly hopped away in a few small steps.
“Symptom one: turning a blind eye to information from the outside world.”
“Isn’t that just because you’re a dog? Not being noticed seems pretty normal.”
“Then you come here.”
Sir ran over and tugged at me. I turned and tried to run, but I was no match for his speed. To my surprise, he was surprisingly strong. He dragged me by the corner of my shirt, and with one stumble, I ended up right in front of a passerby.
“S-sorry… I…”
As someone with severe social anxiety, I hurried to come up with an explanation. How was I supposed to tell him that I had been tricked by a talking dog?
But the person in front of me merely waved me off.
“No need, thank you.”
Then he left.
“Symptom two: turning a deaf ear to voices from the outside world.”
Sir grinned. Annoyed, I pretended to swing at him, and he jumped away again, wagging his tail at me from a distance.
The gray street was filled with passing crowds, and when I looked up, I could see only a narrow strip of sky. Orange clouds lay quietly before the curtain of the heavens, like cotton fibers suspended in wine. Beneath all of this, Sir looked as tiny as a little speck.
I caught up with him.
“You said this is a disease. Then how does it spread?”
“Through human emotions. And this virus loves feeding on people’s feelings. It slowly eats away at the host’s emotional experiences. In the end, the person turns into wood and can only reproduce by seeds.”
A thought struck me like a small pebble.
“You mean people are evolving into trees?”
Sir raised his head and rolled his eyes at me. When he rolled his eyes, his right eye disappeared perfectly into his white fur, while his left eye became a blank space inside a black circle.
“You think that’s evolution? Let me tell you, humanity is not far from extinction. The intelligent creatures from hundreds of millions of years ago have all turned into trees by now. One forest fire, and they were gone. Humans are simply repeating the same process.”
“Then aren’t you worried? Once humans become trees, who’s going to feed you?”
“Not worried at all. By then, little dogs will become the new humans. We’ll begin our own evolution from Peking Dog to Shandingdong Dog. So you can go in peace. All things move in cycles, and such is the way of the world. I’m only telling you this because you’re my only online friend.”
At that moment, Sir looked almost like a Buddha.
I was speechless.
“Move aside. Don’t get your tail stepped on again.”
Sir gave a small bark and jumped away, making room for the passerby behind him.
But in the next second, the passerby fell straight to the ground with a dull, hard thud.
I froze in terror. Sir began barking loudly.
“Don’t just stand there! Call 911 already!”
As he spoke, he went forward and sniffed around, then pulled a buzzing earbud out of the passerby’s ear. I hurriedly took out my phone, closed thirty-seven splash-screen ads, spent two full minutes doing so, and finally got through to emergency services.
The ambulance came wailing and left wailing. Sir crouched down beside my leg.
“He can’t be saved. I smelled sawdust.”
“It’s that serious? Then why aren’t people panicking?”
“Because the people who can still panic are the ones still living in this world. But by now, almost no one lives in this world anymore. The virus has created a new world for its hosts. The hosts become spokespersons for that world and learn its language. In this way, the virus can naturally feed on the host’s experiences and emotions in the real world.
“Late at night, when everything is quiet and the wind blows, you can hear a rustling sound. That is the lingering echo of terminally ill hosts in this world.”
A chill rose from the bottom of my heart. After seeing someone collapse right in front of me, I was beginning to believe what Sir had said.
I lowered my head and, with my palm facing down, stroked Sir’s head. Sir gazed into the distance, and his eyes seemed a little wet.
“But the vast majority of hosts suffer in the real world. That is why they embrace the virus. Panic? They only feel happy. If someone can turn into a tree and live out their life like that, who would say they were dissatisfied?”
“I would be dissatisfied. I want to watch the sunrise and sunset while still being healthy,” I said.
Sir raised his head and gave me a mischievous smile.
“Then watch now.”
The two of us fell silent.
The street seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance. I saw a small red sun bouncing downward, little by little, and soon the sky turned pale violet. It was the blue hour of the day. Mosquitoes and flies drifted through the air, and the skyscrapers gradually hid themselves away.
After a long while, Sir spoke.
“I have to go.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Back to the real world.”
“What does that mean?”
“How did you meet me?” he asked in return.
“Online…”
What did he mean?
“Wait. Are you saying I’m already sick?” I said blankly, as if hearing my own voice for the first time.
Sir looked into my eyes.
“I will always remember you.”
At the place where the afterglow met the deep blue, Sir leapt into the sunset, drawing a white streak across the night sky.
His final words still lingered beside my ears:
“Remember to keep your palm facing down, and that is for yourself, to pray.”