Penelope Bombardo, an investigative reporter who's digging deep into Voy-R

Hearing the blue angel that I considered to be my greatest nemesis speak to me like a new buddy of mine, I couldn't help but feel like I was a spy in enemy territory, fooling the enemy with a clever disguise. In the little time since Voy-R appeared from thin air and released their product, Voy-R Cosm, out to the masses, it had become my white whale. Despite being accessed daily by innumerable users across the globe, information on the company remains a kind of a black hole. Sure, their technology has been analyzed and tested. There are websites online with public faces. There are advertisements on all the porn sites. There are office buildings with "VOY-R" running up and down the sides and there's a cute mascot, En-Voy, that everyone's committed to memory.

The "what" is everywhere, but the "how" eludes me. How did Voy-R get away with rolling out such thinly masked surveillance technology across the world? How did they get it out there so fast? Why would they dedicate all of those resources to glorified VR peepshows? How can they afford to pay their exhibitionists when they offer a free product, of which they receive no cut via purchases or donations? None of it makes any sense.

What's even creepier is that journalists looking into this are sucked into a sort of a black hole. I was one of them and I knew a few others within the industry. If I ever attempted to start an investigation under my old employer, it got thrown straight into the trash bin. When I did dig, leads went dry, people clammed up, and the whole thing just stunk worse and worse by the minute, even as I was persuaded not to look into any of it. In the end, I lost my job and got into freelancing. That's what led me to this point, staring into the red eyes shining out of that blue devil's helpful, smiling skull.

"Not going to tell me your name?" En-Voy interrupted my train of thought, while tilting her head slightly. She brought out a clipboard, its contents hidden from my view, and raised one finger. "That's perfectly fine! I'm sure we have some kind of record. Let's see... Penelope Bombardo! A young woman, recently unemployed, of mixed South American and English descent. A search matches keywords... 'mixed,' 'slender,' 'tongue piercing,' 'lesbo look,' and 'my ex is a bitch.' Oh my!"

"Wait, what?" I responded, feeling just as attacked by unflattering nature of some of the terms as the sudden invasion of my privacy. This right here! This is perfect proof of the kind of thing that people ought to be worrying about when they hand the keys to the castle over to a private company like Voy-R! "You're telling me one of the top search results for me is 'my ex is a bitch?' I've put all kinds of published material on the net, professional and unprofessional, and you're really telling me that's what pops up?"

"Why, yes! It seems like your previous lover was very adamant about sharing the details. How other people perceive you is actually pretty important! Or at least, I believe so," the air-headed blue helper nodded in response. "Hair, blue, side-shaved-- going to assume that's a dye. Eyes, hazel. Small bust, narrow waist, only a bit wider at the hips... You're the tall and skinny type, alright! I spy the wing of the crow-shaped tattoo on your collar. Dressed in a black hoodie and white sweatpants, carrying a backpack branded with the logo of an obscure punk rock band... Yep! It seems I've got the right person! Hey! We're blue-hair buddies!"

I didn't bother to protest again. It was easier just to let her finish her analysis.

"I'm going to track your location now. Hmmm... Yes! This must be your apartment, I assume?" En-Voy asked, giving a quick spin to take in all of the details of my private residence. It was expensive, New York living, which meant that even though I paid an arm and a leg for it, it wasn't much to look at. I've been told my taste is like a moody, rebellious teenager's, and she seemed to be getting a kick out of judging how I lived. The single bed and single bath made my living situation painfully obvious: newly fucking single. She plopped down upon the bed without even asking, then continued, crossing her legs girlishly. "I understand your selection and I will briefly warn you: other people will see you in this location! This is not a prompt to answer or a call to move, just a simple notification."

I sighed, amazed at the fact that this nutty corporate spy didn't even give me a "yes/no" prompt before continuing; people had become so accepting of this Voy-R stuff, they were willing to put the inside of their house out there like it was nothing. In my case, I knew it was a bad idea to let people see so much, but I was considering it a necessary sacrifice for my important work. Besides... I wasn't even all the way sure I was going to go through with becoming an exhibitionist yet regardless. There were lots of leads I could follow up on without degrading myself like that. That's what I told myself, anyway...

I'd done enough research into Voy-R by this point to learn how the modes worked and how they might link to the information I really wanted. What I needed was to get in touch with high profile users of the Voy-R Cosm; big spenders in the voyeur pool or high ranked individuals in exhibitionism. To do that, I needed to dive in to one mode or the other and tease them out. I had two options. Either I would start by accepting my role as a voyeur and checking in on the highest profile show I could-- one nearby enough that I recognized the location and could arrange a meeting there-- or I would try my luck as an exhibitionist and see if I could bait somebody with loose lips. The latter would probably be easier to get to talk, but it would mean putting my dignity on the line and might also result in zero pay off, if I failed to drag anybody in.

It would let me get some money, though. Self-guided freelance reporting with no tangible results isn't a particularly lucrative business. I was living on a broke budget diet of instant noodles these days and dipping into my savings.

"Ms. Bombardo? Or do you prefer Penelope?" En-Voy suddenly interrupted my train of thought, fluttering her wings as though to grab my attention. I scowled in response. "Penelope it is! Are you going to start in Voyeur mode or Exhibitionist mode? Please hit the button corresponding to your answer!"

I felt like this AI was going to drive me so crazy, I'd end up worse than the conspiracy theorist my vengeful ex girlfriend paints me as! I decided to go ahead and answer, just to make the nosey nuisance of a digital guide be quiet for a bit.