Zachtronics's Eliza

I was surprised by how much this game affected me. The first counseling session was so intense that I had to put the game down right after. The very next day, I blasted out almost 1000 words about the first hour alone. If the rest continues along that trajectory, then I will no doubt be writing much more.

I knew what this game was about when I purchased it. I only picked it up in the first place because I'd heard others talking about it, discussing its themes and story in broad strokes. I'd put off starting it because—well, partially because I was digging hard into Tyranny, but mostly because I wasn't sure how it would affect me. I knew it was about the all-too-likely future of therapy and would necessarily involve interacting with people enduring low moments. I wanted to be in the right headspace for that. I thought I was last night when I loaded it up for the first time. I wasn't at all prepared for that first session.

The first client, Darren, is having something of an existential crisis: the world is fucked, the people in power can't be made to care, and everyone else is going about their merry ways in spite of it all. What's the point of anything if we're on a collision course with total destruction? If nothing matters, then why are we even here in a cosmological sense? How can anyone be happy in a world like this? Why should they be happy? I was nodding along throughout. I recalled how, in my lowest moments, even staying awake during the day felt like a frivolous exercise.

Then Darren turned his frustration toward Evelyn, furious that he was being alienated from others even as he sought help. Forget Eliza, forget the script, why couldn't he just talk to Evelyn as another human being? His sudden outburst caught me off-guard. I wanted to toe the corporate line for this first playthrough, meaning I couldn't deviate from Eliza's script. Surely the system was going to talk right past his demands. How would he react then?

That wasn't a dilemma I had to see through; it turned out Eliza did have a contingency for exactly this situation. She, through Evelyn, pretended to be Evelyn for a few moments, including a line about returning to the script—an additional layer of isolation that, had he known about it, would probably have sent Darren careening off the edge. Instead, his demeanor immediately softened. What Darren really wanted, it seemed, was to be seen, and for those brief moments, he believed that he was. We then “returned to the script” to close out the session by recommending breathing exercises and medication. The whole scene was remarkably affecting despite the lack of branching dialogue. When Evelyn suggested a game of solitaire afterward, I was way ahead of her.

I think what really drove it all home was Rae's reaction. As the manager and a veteran proxy herself, she'd seen this scenario play out many times before. Her first response is a dismissive, “oh, one of these guys.” She explains that Eliza speaking as the proxy is a cheap but effective parlor trick implemented after too many such incidents. When Evelyn says that Darren clearly needs professional help, Rae simply shrugs. The terms and conditions clearly state that serious cases are outside the scope of Eliza centers. He had to read and acknowledge that to even get this appointment. “All we can do is make recommendations,” Rae says. “I wish we could keep tabs on them to be sure they follow through.”

I get where she's coming from, to a degree. Therapy is a delicate thing to facilitate, which is why it takes so long to train its practitioners. Eliza's proxies do not possess that training and should not be allowed to act as such—that would for sure be a liability issue. But Rae's response also takes as a given that the corporatized Eliza model is the only viable path forward for the field. And to a point, it is the most economically viable (more on that below): developing professionals is expensive and time-consuming, but raising an army of proxies costs next to nothing. But that only holds if we also assume that our current economic model is the only viable option.

Her line about keeping tabs on clients outside of their sessions also rubs me the wrong way. I'm vaguely aware that it's foreshadowing future ethical questions about privacy and data ownership.

Finally, I have to remark on two additional pieces of reading, both received during Evelyn's post-session break. The first is an email from a foundation to their supporters outlining their recent work. I don't yet have the full context, but judging by the statement, they are the namesake of an Aaron Swartz type figure who died three years prior. He was fiercely dedicated to open source and easy access to mental health resources, and the foundation's charitable contributions reflect that. Given the ambiguously-worded references to his death, I assume that he, like Swartz, took his own life.

The second is an article forwarded by Rae about Eliza's services. It reads like any piece of standard journalism, including interviews with people from prestigious-sounding institutions who voice contrasting opinions on the matter. The more passionate response comes from an executive with the Institute for Productivity. He says there is a “mental health crisis” severely impacting workers and calls for XXX. On the Eliza-skeptic side is a university professor who argues against letting private companies (as Skhanda is) lead this charge.

Both pieces explicitly connect issues of labor and mental health. One of the recipients of foundation money works to organize and educate tech workers to push for saner working conditions. The think tank executive's words serve as a potent reminder that, under our current economic paradigm, necessary services like therapy will only receive institutional funding when neglecting them begins to hurt capital's bottom line.