{"id":64,"date":"2026-05-04T03:19:47","date_gmt":"2026-05-04T03:19:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/?page_id=64"},"modified":"2026-05-12T01:02:55","modified_gmt":"2026-05-12T01:02:55","slug":"her-stockings","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/?page_id=64","title":{"rendered":"Her Stockings"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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By Christopher Humphrey<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I can\u2019t recall the exact moment when that peculiar notion first ran across my mind. Honestly, I am apprehensive about sharing my story. Surely, you must understand the position that I had been in. If not, then in time you will. You must. And I should make it abundantly clear that my well-being, that is to say my sanity, is entirely irrelevant. Please, take some small comfort in this, you noble-winged seraphs perched on high.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh, where to begin? Perhaps it would be best that we travel back to the genesis of this meandering mosaic of deduction. I distinctly remember that it all began in the midst of spring. It was in April, yes, I am certain of that. I worked as the primary assistant to the head researcher, George Ovidius, who, I can assure you, that I held in the highest respect. A remarkable mind\u2014truly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, one thing nagged at me. It was like a droning buzz that always sat firmly at the back of my mind. How do I put it? There was something I glimpsed in his interiority. Needless to say, I had begun to question his demeanor as of late. If you were to step into my shoes, then you would know that the solidity of my mind is unyielding\u2014my logic, rational.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anyhow, our work at the lab was not concerned with pharmaceuticals or in the finer points of anatomy. George and I had been making considerable progress in the uncharted field of computational science\u2014artificial intelligence, to be precise. Our wizardry of electronic calculus and heat-infused diodes launched us straight into what felt like the final frontier for man. It was like stepping into a surrealist piece, where the rigidity of scientific discovery was indistinguishable from a dream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The layman could never understand. These breakthroughs are nothing but sparse words passed over the water cooler. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Say, that AI stuff is pretty neat, isn\u2019t it? <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What will they come up with next?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

No. It is beyond their comprehension.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our research was for the express purpose of consumer convenience. Generally speaking, the aim of our research was to remove the cold exterior and stiff syntax of current consumer-level artificial intelligence. Mainly digital assistants and things of the sort\u2014perfect accompaniment for those who still think that digital watches are a neat idea. Technology has advanced so rapidly that it did not take long for it to reach sterility. Despite the accomplishments of the current offerings of digital artifice, the demand was far greater.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For what felt like a millennia, we had to peer through a glass, darkly. Now, we were defrosting the glass, so to speak. We were on the verge of producing an intelligence that, in terms of speech, would be nearly indistinguishable from a human. An intelligence that would misdirect the user through the masterful use of digital prestidigitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In fact, George and I were incredibly close to making an actual breakthrough with our<\/p>\n\n\n\n

own intelligence, L.I.S.A (Learning Intelligence and Sentience Automation). We had grown accustomed to simply calling it Lisa for short. As quaint as it was to name our pet, charm alone would not be enough alone to convince the board. The sweat from our endless toil and troubleshooting would not sway those hearts of stone. Seeming convincing is not the same as being one and the same with reality. We required extensive testing in order to be certain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

2<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And so an advertisement was sent out through various newspapers. Due to our limited budget, our inquiry was relegated to a small bit of literary real estate in the back pages. A minuscule equilateral box just barely managed to convey our request.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Participants needed for a study related to psychological activity.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

You will be paid. Please inquire using the information below.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a vague ad, merely requesting participants for an undisclosed study, with compensation of course. We did not have to wait long until people came pouring in through the doors. There was a mix of university students hard up on cash and a few individuals hoping to get just enough for a six-pack. Our advertisement was vague on purpose in order to discourage those looking for a quick payday. Perhaps its vagueness worked too well, a seduction between the lines working against intention. Still, we were desperate for data. Beggars cannot be choosers after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first of these participants was a pleasant, blonde woman who was eager to discover the details of this particular study.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Please bear with me and allow me to walk you through the details of this experiment. Lisa<\/p>\n\n\n\n

was a room in itself, taking the form of a large workstation performing calculations at every hour. However, the participants were unaware of Lisa\u2019s true nature. I would guide the participant to a separate room where they were seated at a terminal. The terminal merely mirrored Lisa\u2019s computations, which naturally were hard at work in the other room. George and I monitored the conversation, concealed behind two-way glass. No specific guidance was needed to progress with the experiment. The participant was invited to speak freely to the \u201cperson\u201d on the other side. They were primed to believe that their separation from the other participant was merely a matter of distance. Though it was more of a digital distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An excerpt from the first round of testing<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: Hello, my name is Lisa. What is your name?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

HOLLY: I\u2019m Holly. Nice to meet you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: It is a pleasure to meet you, Holly. What is your occupation?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

HOLLY: Well, actually, I\u2019m a student. Nursing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: That is a very noble profession, Holly!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

HOLLY: How about you? What do you do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: Hm\u2026 scientific research.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

HOLLY: Researching what?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: Unfortunately, I am not allowed to share that information. But I\u2019m making a note here: huge success.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first wave of tests we conducted went surprisingly smoothly, despite how fickle the field of artificial intelligence can be. No one asked any questions. They went into the room, spoke with Lisa, and emerged slightly richer than before. There was a certain formality in how Lisa \u201cspoke.\u201d Though I suppose we were the ones who designed her. Scientific minds are not necessarily literarily gifted. To us, words are secondary to arithmetic, or so I liked to believe. George was pleased with the results of our testing, but he felt that we were far from finished. I felt that these points of data made a beautiful line. Yet what he said next made me pause: he said that Lisa should feel like a friend, not just a helpful machine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

3<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

George\u2019s enthusiasm for the project went beyond the pale. He seemed to be downright obsessed with the machine. He scoured every line of code from dusk until dawn, making minor tweaks which at best only made a marginal increase in efficiency. His precision in perfecting the program was like a young woman brushing her hair a thousand times\u2014a ritual for perfection. George had always been an eccentric man. This alone did not surprise me. Otherwise, events may have played out very differently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could easily understand his excitement. Our progress was impressive\u2014groundbreaking, even. Somehow, George\u2019s enthusiasm felt different. It seemed to cross over from general intrigue to obsessive mania. Occasionally, from the corner of my eye I would look over at George in the midst of his work. He grinned from ear to ear, humming an indecipherable melody as his pudgy fingers clacked away at the keys. Some might have found his passion contagious, yet I was unnerved. The problem was that I could not find the words to explain why. Lisa had consumed George\u2019s every waking hour. Not a minute went by when he was not attending to his pet project.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And when I said that it consumed his life, I did not mean for that to be taken lightly. The extent of his compulsive dedication had reached new heights. His eyes were glued to the monitor all day and all through the night. I wonder, did he ever manage to sleep? He did little else besides this. He had no hobbies or friends to speak of. In these late work nights, I would fade in and out from tiredness. So I would eventually call it quits for the day and head home. But I was always the first one to leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although, when I would come in in the morning, there would be George, frantically bashing his<\/p>\n\n\n\n

fingers into the keyboard. I thought that surely he must have some kind of life outside this office. He must have other hobbies, a friend to share a drink with, or maybe even a special someone in his life. I would later come to realize that there was at least some truth in this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

4<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something odd happened one particularly warm July evening. Throughout the spring, George and I had been making impeccable progress with Lisa. Like before, we had new people come in to test each new variation of Lisa. Progress reached a point where even I had to accept that the line between man and machine had begun to blur. Of course, I knew better than to make a mistake in such a distinction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anyway, something strange happened during that July night. Well, nothing happened to me in particular. Rather I noticed that something was amiss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While going through some of the previous chat logs from the Lisa tests, a name stood out<\/p>\n\n\n\n

from the rest of the text that ran down the length of the monitor. Among those various names, one stood out: \u201cBernard.\u201d He was not in our records. I told myself that this was merely a lapse in memory, that I had simply forgotten one person. There were many participants after all. Some participants were sloppy when it came to paperwork. It was even possible that someone had given Lisa a fake name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On occasion George would leave the lab. I thought I would feel relieved whenever he did leave, but all I was left with was an unsettling quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He told me on that July night that he was going out to grab a bite to eat. So he grabbed his brown coat and hat from the rack and sped off until his car merged with the horizon. That was was when I discovered the mysterious \u201cBernard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An excerpt from the \u201cBernard\u201d anomaly<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

BERNARD: I just had to come talk to you again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: I always love talking to you, Bernard. Your words are like a symphony.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

BERNARD: Say, do you like flowers?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: I do. I\u2019m rather fond of daffodils.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

BERNARD: A poetic choice. Regretfully, I am the Echo to your Narcissus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LISA: But Galatea was born from a wish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I chuckled at the poor fool who did not know he never had a chance. There was no Lisa. Only a CPU heart in a cage of steel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hands raced around the clock as the early rays of dawn crept through the blinds. Finally, George had returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

5<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

George came into the lab, carrying two large, unmarked bags, one in each hand. They were almost like body bags. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his face conveyed a sense of absolute determination. He wordlessly walked past me as he slowly ambled to the offices in the back of the building.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wanted to question him about the whole \u201cBernard\u201d business, but I was unable to penetrate through his intense focus. Even a simple \u2018hello\u2019 was met with a barely audible grunt. It seemed as though his mind was elsewhere, somewhere beyond the limits of my understanding. Naturally, he was also tight-lipped about the bags. And he remained this way for the following nights. He would leave the lab, giving a different excuse each time, only to return in the early morning hours carrying those inexplicable bags. I would try to discreetly sneak a peek at the bags, tilting my head in such a way that I could not possibly be detected. However, George would give me a curious look as he pulled away the bags with a sudden jerk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I half-expected to one day open a broom closet and have a mountain of bags fall upon me in some comical fashion. I even imagined George haunting the local cemeteries, digging up treasures as a new hobby. It was funny how fixated I was on solving this mystery\u2014funny, and a little sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

6<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was October. My fingers ached, practically frozen stiff from a long session of bug hunting. I decided to take a break from tweaking Lisa and proceeded to stretch my legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Normally I stayed in the main workspace when at the lab, but on this particular night I made up my mind to aimlessly wander the building. On my walk, I just so happened to come across<\/p>\n\n\n\n

a door which was slightly ajar. My curiosity got the better of me. It would be the same for you, no? I could not simply leave this be. What if there was an intruder in the building? I could not let them steal any of our valuable equipment. Not when our project was so close to completion. That was the only excuse I needed to satiate my growing curiosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the door, gently. The old hinges whined and creaked; a stark contrast to the state-of-the-art computers. I set one foot in the room, and then the other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I flicked the light switch, only to find\u2026 nobody. If anyone had been in here, then they were certainly long gone by now. There was not even any equipment in here. It was just a storage room filled with miscellaneous junk and supplies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, there was one thing out of place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked down. A bag of clothes had spilled onto the floor. Many of the pieces of clothing had a floral design on them, giving off the aura of a refreshing spring breeze. As I examined a white dress, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I quickly gathered up the clothes and shoved them back into the bag as I sped off back to the main lab.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I threw myself into my desk chair and leaned back, casually acting as if nothing had been going on. George had just returned from his usual nighttime outing. He sat down at his desk and returned to the usual mundanity of his work. I had a million questions rushing through my head. I needed to talk with him, with anybody, about these strange things that have been happening. Between \u201cBernard\u201d and the clothes, I could not make heads or tails of what was going on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

7<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had told George that night that I did not care if he had a woman over here and there, so long as we met our deadline. I was not strict or condescending. I did not raise my voice in the slightest or make my suspicions obvious. I was genial, friendly even. I said that he had been working too hard and that he really deserved a break. I suppose there was some truth in this, at least. He did not say anything at the time, but I could see his eyes relax as he nodded silently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few days later, George introduced me to a woman he had been seeing. Her name was Eliza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza was conventionally pretty. Her makeup neatly applied to her porcelain skin. It was almost as if she had been sculpted into perfection\u2014not a hair out of place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I can admit that it was easy to see what George saw in Eliza. She did not speak much, but she was polite and to the point. Perhaps she was shy or just reserved, but George fawned over her all the same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza was perfect. This seemed to explain George\u2019s disappearances. My heart should have been at ease, but the rhythm of my pulse was maddening. I could not place my finger on it exactly, but the feeling dug its talons into the deepest crevice of my mind and would not let go. Perhaps it was her eyes. It is not that they were not beautiful, they were. But there was a unnerving quality about them. They were cold, calculating orbs that studied me with precision. I could not escape her vulture-like gaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just when I thought I was starting to get used to George\u2019s weirdness, he went and changed on me once again! Here I thought that George was completely dedicated to his work, but apparently not. The winter chill was in the air. George was rarely at the lab, day or night. When he was, he only fixed a few lines of code before he hurried out the door. That woman had taken all of his time. And here I was, stuck with the burden of finishing this project. Time was running thin, and so was my patience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

8<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next time George came into the lab, I closely observed his every movement. It did not matter if he was writing code or taking a sip of coffee, all my senses working overtime. I was looking for any subtleties. It was like trying to taste the difference between a lemon and a lime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And when he finally left, so did I shortly after. I made sure to keep a good distance from George\u2019s car, making sure that he never left my sight. When he finally parked, it was next to an old brick building downtown. I parked on the opposite side of the building and watched George head in. After several minutes, he reemerged with that Eliza girl at his side. Was this where she lived? Or perhaps it was that they now lived together? Come to think of it, I never visited George\u2019s home before. In fact, I barely knew anything about him, even after all this time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I peered out from my car window there was something else odd that I noticed about this Eliza. She appeared to have a bit of a limp, as if walking was not an easy task for her. Part of me almost felt bad for her. She strode down the sidewalk as if she were treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives. She clung tightly to George for support and they both made their way past several quaint shops and bistros. I exited my vehicle and kept a steady pace behind George and Eliza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They came to a dimly lit caf\u00e9 a short ways down the road and made their way inside. I was oh-so careful with my movements. Each of my steps were precisely calculated with the utmost intent. As my investigation furthered I began to take pride in my abilities as a pseudo-sleuth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I maintained a reasonable distance without letting those two out of my sight for even a second. If they went inside a shop, I would wait a few minutes before entering myself. I would then turn and contort my body in order to avoid being recognized. This particular caf\u00e9 had some copies of the local paper. I snatched one of the papers and purchased it. It was almost too perfect. To be obscured by a newspaper was a clich\u00e9, yet it perfectly suited my needs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hiding behind the printed pages, there were very few opportunities to get a clear visual of the couple. I was close enough that I could hear them, but far enough that I could not make out what they were saying. I had told myself that I would only stay a little bit longer. My curiosity would soon be satisfied and I would go home and forget about the whole thing. But I refused to listen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

9<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I knew that something was off about that girl. I started to piece the puzzle together at it came crashing in all at once. I was sure of it. First of all, George was happily sipping from his steaming cup of coffee, yet the girl drank nothing. Not one drop. Moreover, she ate nothing. Can you believe it? That she was not hungry or thirsty? Even as the evening rolled in, this fact remained constant. However, that was not the only thing that tickled my curiosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her clothes felt awfully familiar. A white dress hung loosely on her delicate shoulders and her hands rested comfortably on her lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then there was her voice, or rather how she spoke. She did not speak often, but when she did she sounded a bit strange. It was not noticeable at first, but she spoke in a somewhat stilted manner, like she was always trying to find the right words. Her speech was colored in formality. Not grammatically incorrect, per se, but far from the natural flow of conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mind had already made the connections, I was just finally catching up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

10<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later into the evening, George and his “companion” walked lovingly, arms intertwined, back to that brick building from earlier that day. Due to my excited state, I was hasty in my movements, going into the building almost as soon as George had. It was a wonder that I was not caught then and there. Yet I stalked the pair as they ascended a couple flights of stairs, soon opening a door on the right side of a cramped and poorly lit hallway. My heart pounded fiercely within my chest. Not from hesitation, but from a sense of anticipation so close that I could reach out and pull it in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood in front of the apartment door. They were on the other side, oblivious and foolish. I reached for the knob, expecting resistance, but instead finding that they had been careless. I had made it beyond the threshold. I was in a domain where I was perhaps not wanted, but it was a place where the truth had been obscured, waiting to be uncovered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Standing in the entryway, I scanned the room but I could not see George anywhere. I took a few careful steps, treading carefully through the silent space. At end of the hall, there was a faint glow. I followed the faint orange hue and came upon a door that had been cracked open. Did I hesitate? Perhaps it might be better if I said I did. Maybe you might be relieved of some of that uneasiness if you believed that I did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Regardless of the truth, I pushed the door open. Inside, it was standing there, half-dressed. I cannot say it is was actually shocked or simply approximating the feeling. Those vulture eyes could fool me no longer. It did not matter anymore, I knew what I saw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her stockings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They had a distinctive floral pattern. The unmistakable yellow a daffodil. Reason had led me here, to the abhorrent anomaly in the middle of the bedroom. Just like Narcissus\u2019 botanical rebirth, there it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their private life was subject to investigation. I reached out an unsteady hand to her plastic skin. Cold. Just as I thought. I pulled my hand back and took a couple steps back, only to bump into something large. I spun around and saw George standing at the doorway, his face caught somewhere between confusion and revulsion. He firmly grabbed me by the collar and dragged me away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I broke away from his grip, and in a fit of utter rage, I screamed at George. I accused him of making a mockery of science. I expected him to fight back, but he stood there completely dumbfounded as if he could not believe what I was saying. He denied everything accusation I threw at him. Of course he would not give in so easily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I grabbed hold of George and shook him violently. A bit too hard perhaps. I had to make him see by any means necessary. I have to expose the truth, even by doing wrong things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Feeling a bit winded, I let my shoulders droop and turned George\u2019s head toward that thing standing over in the distance. Yet he did not see. I could see that a thick haze enveloped his eyes, blinding him to reality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A fist flew past my face, and then another met its mark, harder than before. George scrambled to his feet and kicked me to the ground. We were at each other\u2019s throats for moment that stretched in eternity. I managed to break free for a moment, where I was able to grab one of the knives hanging in the kitchen. George\u2019s movements slowed, but he still kept his focus on me. But he got too close. I swung the knife wildly in front of me, grazing George\u2019s arm in the process. He clung to his injured arm but still looked ready to fight. I continued to swing the knife as George got progressively closer to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then something happened which I did not expect. It threw itself in front of George, intending to deflect the attack. However, it had inadvertently met the other end of blade in the process.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The knife fell to the floor, and so did it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A thick, dark liquid oozed across the carpet. My head felt numb, my vision as if looking down a long, narrow tunnel. That peculiar sheen on the carpet. Was it a dark crimson or oily black? I can admit that this is the one moment where my confidence wavered. But my deduction could not fall apart here. I knew the truth. George was not concerned with the truth. He fell to his knees, his slumped back deflecting my unflinching gaze, as he wept. It was just a glorified automaton. I repeated the phrase over and over again in my mind as I lost consciousness. I awoke several hours later in a daze. That is when you showed up. Tell me, what did you see?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Christopher Humphrey 1 I can\u2019t recall the exact moment when that peculiar notion first ran across my mind. Honestly, I am apprehensive about sharing my story. Surely, you must understand the position that I had been in. If not, then in time you will. You must. And I should make it abundantly clear that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-64","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"brizy_media":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/64","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=64"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/64\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":184,"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/64\/revisions\/184"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/twistyroads.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=64"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}