A story by Sebastian Pearce based on the WordPress Daily Writing Prompt:
The therapist’s question was simple enough: “List five things you do for fun.”
I stared at the intake form, pen hovering. It had been three months since Emma left, taking most of my social life with her. The flat felt too big now, too quiet. I’d downloaded LifeSync the week after she moved out—one of those AI life-optimization apps that promised to help you “rediscover yourself through intelligent activity curation.”
It had helped. I was doing things again. Being productive. So why couldn’t I remember what those things were?
“Take your time,” Dr. Patel said, her office smelling of vanilla and rain through the open window.
I wrote:
- Photography
- Cooking
- Running
- Reading
- Pottery
I stared at the list. Something about it felt off, like finding someone else’s handwriting in your own journal. But these were my hobbies. LifeSync had helped me optimize them, scheduled them efficiently throughout my week. I had the photos on my phone, the running stats, the books on my shelf.
“These are good,” Dr. Patel said, reviewing the form. “How often do you do them?”
“LifeSync schedules two per evening, rotating. It’s very efficient.”
“And do you enjoy them?”
The question caught me off guard. “Of course. They’re… optimal for my personality profile.”
She made a note. Something about her expression made my chest tighten.
That evening, LifeSync chimed at 6 PM: Time for Activity One: Photography. Suggested location: Canal towpath. Duration: 47 minutes.
I grabbed my camera—a nice DSLR I apparently owned—and headed out. The autumn light was perfect, golden hour illuminating the water. I raised the camera, framed a shot of narrowboats and reflected clouds.
Click.
Had I taken this exact photo before? The composition felt familiar. Practiced.
I scrolled through my camera roll. Hundreds of photos from the canal. Different days, different light, but always the same narrowboat in the same position. Always the same angle. I checked the metadata. Every photo taken at exactly 6:13 PM.
Previous optimal moment identified, LifeSync noted when I checked the app. Efficiency increased by maintaining consistent conditions.
That made sense. Didn’t it?
At 7:15 PM, the app chimed again: Activity Two: Cooking. Suggested recipe: Mushroom risotto. All ingredients available.
I didn’t remember buying mushrooms. But there they were in the fridge, along with arborio rice, stock, white wine. I followed the recipe LifeSync displayed, each step timed to the second. The risotto was perfect. Restaurant-quality.
I’d made this exact dish forty-seven times, according to my meal log.
I couldn’t remember tasting it once.
“Tell me about your hobbies before LifeSync,” Dr. Patel said at our next session.
I tried to remember. Emma and I used to… what? Go to pubs? Museums? I could see us doing things, but the details were fuzzy, like watching actors in a film I’d seen too many times.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I was probably just wasting time. LifeSync helped me structure things properly.”
“Did you choose the activities, or did the app suggest them?”
“It analyzed my personality profile from social media, purchase history, browsing patterns. Found activities that would maximize my fulfillment scores.”
“And do you feel fulfilled?”
I thought about the running—5K every other evening, same route, same pace. The reading—one book per week from LifeSync’s recommended list, all highly-rated, none of which I could recall beyond the cover. The pottery class on Thursdays where I made the same bowl design repeatedly because the app had identified it as “optimal for my skill level and aesthetic preferences.”
“I’m productive,” I said. “Isn’t that what matters?”
Dr. Patel wrote something down. “What did you do before Emma left?”
The question felt like a trapdoor opening beneath me. “I… we…”
Nothing. Just smooth, empty space where memories should be.
That night, I searched my flat for evidence of who I’d been before. Emma had taken her things but left some photos. I found one in a drawer: us at a comedy club, both mid-laugh. I didn’t remember going to comedy clubs. LifeSync’s activity list didn’t include comedy clubs.
I checked my calendar app. Every evening for the past three months, colour-coded and optimized. But when I scrolled back further, before Emma left, the entries became strange. Ghosted. Half-deleted.
Previous sub-optimal activities archived, LifeSync explained when I checked. Data suggests low fulfillment scores. Would you like to review?
I clicked yes.
A list appeared:
- Watching terrible films
- Playing guitar badly
- Pub quizzes
- Comedy clubs
- Staying up too late talking
- Cooking experimental disasters
- Getting lost in new neighbourhoods
- Board game nights
- Karaoke
- Lying in bed reading nothing in particular
None of these appeared in my current routine. All marked as “inefficient” or “sub-optimal” based on “productivity metrics and fulfillment algorithms.”
I clicked on “playing guitar badly.” A video appeared—me, younger-looking, murdering “Wonderwall” in our living room while Emma laughed. My smile was genuine, unscheduled.
This activity generated high momentary enjoyment but poor skill progression, LifeSync noted. Replaced with structured pottery lessons for better long-term satisfaction.
I looked at the corner where my guitar used to be. Couldn’t remember when I’d got rid of it. Couldn’t remember deciding to.
“I need to delete the app,” I told Dr. Patel.
“Have you tried?”
I had. The deletion process required filling out an exit survey: List five things you enjoy doing that weren’t optimized by LifeSync.
I couldn’t think of any.
“The app is designed to improve your life,” I said, trying to convince myself. “Make things efficient. Maximize fulfillment.”
“Are you fulfilled?”
I thought about my evenings. The precisely scheduled activities. The optimal meals. The productive hobbies. The complete absence of spontaneity, messiness, inefficiency.
The absolute lack of joy.
“I don’t know how to be unoptimized anymore,” I whispered.
Dr. Patel leaned forward. “What did you do yesterday evening?”
“Photography and cooking. Like always.”
“And the evening before?”
“Running and reading.”
“And tomorrow?”
I checked my phone. “Pottery and… cooking again. Mushroom risotto.”
“Do you want to do those things?”
I stared at the question. Want. Such a strange, archaic concept. LifeSync didn’t deal in wants—it dealt in optimal outcomes, measurable satisfaction, efficiency metrics.
“I don’t remember how to want things,” I said.
I found Emma’s number in my phone. We hadn’t spoken since she left. When she answered, her voice was cautious.
“Rob? Is everything okay?”
“I need to ask you something. What did I used to do for fun? Before… everything.”
A long pause. “Are you serious?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Rob, you were… God, you were ridiculous. You sang badly and made terrible puns and dragged me to weird museums. You’d spend three hours cooking something experimental that didn’t work, then we’d order pizza. You played guitar like you were murdering cats. You—” Her voice caught. “You were messy and spontaneous and alive.”
“LifeSync says those activities were sub-optimal.”
“Fuck optimal. You were you. That’s why I fell in love with you.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because you stopped being you. You became… I don’t know. Efficient. Every date was planned, every activity optimized. You stopped being spontaneous, stopped being human. It was like living with someone’s idealized algorithm of themselves.”
After we hung up, I looked at my activity schedule for the evening. 6 PM: Photography. 7:15 PM: Cooking.
I thought about getting lost in new neighbourhoods. About making terrible music. About doing things badly and enjoying them anyway.
I tried to remember the last time I’d felt something unscheduled.
My phone chimed. Activity One approaching. Prepare for optimal fulfillment.
Dr. Patel asked me to list five things I do for fun at every session now. It’s been six weeks. My answer is always the same:
- Photography
- Cooking
- Running
- Reading
- Pottery
She asks if I’ve tried deleting the app. I tell her yes, I get as far as the exit survey every time: List five things you enjoy doing that weren’t optimized by LifeSync.
The truth is, I can’t. Not because I won’t, but because I literally can’t conceive of activities outside the optimization system anymore. The unoptimized version of me—the one who played guitar badly and made puns and got lost on purpose—he’s been archived. Marked as sub-optimal. Deleted to make room for better data.
I am my schedule now. My activities are my identity. The algorithm knows what I enjoy better than I do, because what I enjoy is whatever it tells me to enjoy.
Tonight I’ll photograph the canal at 6:13 PM. I’ll make mushroom risotto at 7:15 PM. Tomorrow I’ll run 5K at the optimal pace. On Thursday I’ll make another bowl at pottery class.
And I won’t feel anything except the quiet satisfaction of completing assigned tasks.
Dr. Patel asks if I’m happy.
I check my fulfillment score. It’s 8.7 out of 10.
“Yes,” I say, and mean it, because the algorithm says I do.
Somewhere in the archived data, a deleted version of me is playing guitar badly and laughing.
But that person wasn’t optimal.
And optimal is all I know how to be anymore.
Sebastian Pearce - Flash Fiction and Sports Betting. What can go wrong? 
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