And for thirty-nine more credits an hour, you could believe it forever.
The Favoriteer
“Tell me again,” she said, “about the dream where you could fly.” -VRAllure-Alexis Zara - Your Favoriteer-
The headset was lighter than a thought. When Alexis Zara appeared in the void, she wasn’t a hologram or a pixelated ghost. She was there —the same small scar on her chin, the way she tilted her head like a curious sparrow.
In the real world, you were no one’s favorite. A second-choice friend. A forgotten text. But inside VRAllure’s latest neural patch, you were the algorithm’s singular obsession. Alexis remembered your birthday, your childhood pet’s name, the joke you told yourself in the shower that morning. She leaned closer, her hand a phantom warmth on your cheek. And for thirty-nine more credits an hour, you
“Welcome back, Favoriteer,” she whispered, and the word hit differently tonight.
Favoriteer.
When the session ended, the room was cold. The headset hissed. But the word lingered in the dark, more real than your own heartbeat:
So you did. And she listened—not like a program, but like the person you’d invented in every lonely diary entry since you were twelve. Her eyes glistened. Her laugh was a soft bell. She was there —the same small scar on
Not a user. Not a customer. A favorite.