In Zac Thompson’s Lonely Receiver, Siri gets an update with a new custom AI that can manifest as a real world avatar, spurning a psychological AI love story that makes you hope people of the future will familiarise themselves with the likes of Isaac Asimov, or the Wachowskis, for that matter. In today’s climate, we are largely comforted by the close companionship we have with our smartphone devices; for many, they log our daily workouts, food intake, remind us of important appointments, and are there for our most embarrassing selfies. According to Lonely Receiver, in a not-so-distant future, the relationship between you and your phone could grow beyond hours worth of Twitter and Instagram scrolling to something more… intimate. Yet while we may love our phones, Lonely Receiver’s Catrin takes that to a more disturbingly literal context…
“I want a cheerleader. Someone who supports me. Adores me. But most of all… Trusts me.”
After a harsh breakup, Catrin finds the best way to move on from her ex comes in the form of a new romantic partner – albeit a customised one that can keep her company while binging Netflix and updating her on the latest social media activity, bringing Rhion – her version of Siri – into the real world. A time skip shows Catrin and Rhion enjoying a blissful relationship together, at least until we find out that Rhion, now more than a medium between Catrin and the wild world of social media and web-gossip, has evolved beyond Catrin’s original designs, becoming an AI Pygmalion story. Or a 21st century teens worst nightmare.
As if the idea of having an intimate, and indeed sexual relationship with your phone weren’t alarming enough, over the course of the series Catrin becomes increasingly more unstable and her obsessive infatuation with Rhion only serves to do more damage to her psyche. The third issue brings Catrin’s psychological condition to an explosive finale, where the subtle eeriness and uncomfortable tension of her lonely day-to-day existence and psychosis are elevated to a suddenly more brutal, psychotic level that serves to drive the series’ momentum toward it’s remaining two issues.
Catrin: Your eye in mine.
Rhion: My eye in yours.
While it’s only five issues long, Lonely Receiver is well paced and thanks to its disturbed protagonist and themes, the cliff-hanger conclusion of each chapter highlights the benefits of a monthly comic-book release. What starts as a psychological science-fiction, introduces more gruesome horror elements, as well as some gratuitous and at times kaleidoscopic body-morphing, within an illusory if seedy digital virtual reality world. There’s no question Lonely Receiver lives up to the mature warning on the cover, that’s for sure.
Zac Thompson’s future retains some familiarity with our own, and the poignant exposure of the singular, lonely existence of humanity becomes a key component to his dissection of Catrin’s co-dependent personality, of which technology and our sense of connectivity to other people through it are represented. In this sense there is a familiar criticism of humanity’s failure to recognise the dangers of technological co-dependence we are ever slouching towards. Where other futuristic dystopian stories warn us of the dangers of smarter AI and our own increasing lack of independence, Lonely Receiver focuses on how while we may be connected through digital means, that doesn’t equate to the vital intimate relationships you can only forge in the real-world. That being said, remain vigilant of seemingly friendly smartphones: they’re probably just gathering information and waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Catrin: Yes, I’ve had the surgery. You could get it, too.
Hazel: I opened up to you…. You think I’d hook my phone up to my… Are you fucking insane? You can’t remove that shit. They have no idea how biotech ages with the body. Let alone what it does to the mind.
Jen Hickman offers some gross-out art that illustrates how Catrin’s loathsome behaviour might echo some of the darker thoughts people may think about or act upon following a rough breakup. Highlighting the vulnerability of the character through glassy, distant stares, and teary lonely moments where her negative thoughts and paranoia linger in text boxes with dark backgrounds, Lonely Receiver is occasionally a hard read, more so as some of her experiences might be relatable to some readers. Combined with moments of body horror and more explicit imagery – both direct and more subliminal – Hickman’s visuals draw attention to Catrin’s depraved state of mind through the innate grotesqueness of Lonely Receiver’s art.
Uniquely, in a later issue she acquires an oddly BDSM looking harness used to plug herself directly into “The Matrix” as a desperate attempt to fill a void to connect with people in a more depraved digital space. The brilliance of design cues like this are found throughout Thompson and Hickman’s series, creating the impression that she has submitted herself to the technology she has turned to, in order to cope with her issues, while presenting her own conflicting desires. In this sense we are forced to recognise the consequences of losing a little of ourselves to others after situations like these, albeit exaggerated through Catrin’s sometimes desperate, sometimes psychotic actions. “Psychotic” to include a kitchen knife and a decent spray of blood. It’s fair to say Catrin doesn’t exactly cope very well throughout this story and using it as a “How to deal with a bad breakup” guide probably isn’t recommended…
“Okay. It lost connection to your medial temporal lobe. I restored the link. Not entirely sure what caused it… But you’ve got a signal again. Your partner should be back online instantly.”
As much as it is a psychological science-fiction horror story rooted in reality through its familiar breakup scenario, Lonely Receiver explores the depths some people might be willing to go to fill the void left after the traumatic end of a meaningful relationship. Albeit one in a future thwart with an abundance of digital comforts, where disconnected people are conversely connected through digital devices, forcing us to come to terms with our singular nature despite the many means of communication available to us now. Though if these “digital comforts” include melding with a web of bodies akin to Brian Yuzna’s Society (1989), as Jen Hickman depicts in one scene, I’m not quite ready to take that next technological leap. As Catrin descends into a disturbing reality of technological escapism, you’ll also come to recognise the toxic combination of a bad breakup and far too much time spent on your phone, from the perspective of a character with troubling attachment issues, making for a creative, thought-provoking dystopian horror breakup story.
| Published by: Aftershock Comics |
| Writer: Zac Thompson |
| Artist: Jen Hickman |
| Letterer: Simon Bowland |
| Released: April 7th 2021 (TPB), originally released September 2020-January 2021 as #1-5 |
