Thirty-something year old ‘Girlie’ works behind a desk at Reeden, a global social media content-moderation office. She’s a first-generation eldest daughter, a survivor, and numb to the horrors she is subjected to as a Subject Matter Specialist of truly awful things – things she herself has survived. By day, Girlie works behind a mask of her own making, with only her sardonic running commentary for company – hiding behind a pseudonym, detached from her colleagues, family and community. By night, she lifts weights and hides away in the house she shares with six members of her family, all victims of the subprime mortgage crisis. The Filipino diaspora isn’t just a major part of Girlie’s self-identity, but a current running through her relationships with family and those familiar only through shared heritage.
Girlie takes great pleasure in being a sharp judge of character, observant, savvy and street-wise, able to predict people’s actions and motivations. But her predictable – if not comfortable – life changes when Reeden acquires a booming virtual reality business, whose fully rendered environments are said to provide both entertainment and therapeutic benefits. They want only the best moderators, capable of reacting in a split second while maintaining cover. The money isn’t just good, it’s almost unbelievable, and best of all, Girlie won’t have to participate in so many tokenistic ‘wellness’ initiatives – just ‘therapeutic offset’ sessions, a kind of VR cool-down, totally optional. But of course, there’s a catch: William, her handsome, inscrutable, English-accented manager, who throws Girlie off her previously even keel.
What may sound like the setup for a fairly standard romance is merely enjoyable window dressing on a complex, speculative story of corporate misdeeds, the seductive nature of self-isolation, and the healing power of playing pretend. Elaine Castillo’s prose is lush and sizzles with wit, and the sensory immersion of VR leaps off the page.
