insaine real estate

The morning after June moved into her new place, she woke up feeling satisfied for the first time in a while. She set her eye mask down, and rolled off of the mattress, currently on the floor because her bed frame hadn't arrived yet. She padded her way to the bathroom, thankful that she had found the box labeled "Toiletries" the night before. Starting the shower, she sat on the toilet and scrolled through her daily newsletters.

Her realtor had described the building as a "renovated prewar," but hadn't seemed to appreciate it when June had asked, "Which war?" That joke really only landed with certain crowds.

The truth was that June had already decided on this particular place weeks before. She had spent the better part of the last two months walking the neighborhood, trying to get a feel for it. June believed that you should be allowed to move into a place for at least a month before you bought it, so that you knew if it really was a good match.

She had lived in enough apartments to know that sometimes you got an immediate sense for them, and sometimes, you got an unexpected neighbor who played music at 1am every Tuesday night. She was so sick of men in their 40s wanting to be DJs.

June had walked what felt like every block of this neighborhood, and knew that her first choice would be anything between Lexor and 34th Ave, but she would consider the extra three blocks from Lexor to Shenoa if she had to. The streets were slightly less cute there, but it was probably closer to her price range.

When she had told her friends that she was looking, they had tried to get her to move further north, closer to them. She would shrug and tell them to send her any listings they came across, but she knew that wouldn't happen. She was single after all and not yet resigned to dating divorcees.

The bathroom quickly filled with steam. June turned on the fan and left her phone balanced on the sink. Already thinking about how nice that first cup of coffee would be on her little porch, June sped through her shower. She decided that, after her coffee, she would focus on unpacking for the rest of the day. Hopefully she could get most of it done before drinks with the girls, and maybe if she was tipsy enough, she would invite them to check out her place.

When this apartment had gone on the market, she had been one of the first to apply for a tour. She had been tracking alerts religiously for her preferred zones. It felt like fate when the realtor reached out within minutes. It turned out the AI realtor had to vet her first, but that had been a breeze. Then she met the real person the next morning.

Walking up to the building for her 9am tour, she had been giddy. Just as she reached the building doors, it felt like the sun shone just on her. She remembered the day as perfectly warm, not too hot. Her curls had settled against the breeze. The air had smelled fresh, and she could even hear birds chirping. The day had felt full of potential.

The apartment itself? Smaller than her original vision, but manageable. Clean. Fairly new kitchen. Already well-painted. Pretty good natural light. In-unit laundry, thank god. She had jumped through all the hoops for financing and approval from the building. Eventually, sooner than she had expected but not without a few tears, she had been ready to move in.

Scanning the boxes in the kitchen, June realized she had no clue where her french press was, so she decided to splurge on a macchiato from the shop on the corner. She threw on the closest clothes she could find — her favorite leggings and the oversized crew neck she had stolen from her last fling — and jogged down the three flights of stairs.

She stepped out of her new building, ready for that morning dose of sunshine. It had looked like blue skies from her bedroom window, but now that she was outside, it felt cooler than she had expected. The sidewalk was in full shade. She looked at her watch, 8:53am.

June made her way to the coffee shop, hugging her arms around her. She saw a few people on her way, and made an effort to toss them a small smile. She had read on the local subreddit that people were friendlier when they knew you actually lived on the block.

June scrunched her nose against that slightly sour stench the city was famous for. She told her watch to remind her to check the garbage schedule in an hour. She heard a siren in the distance, but otherwise, the street was quiet. She looked at the shops as she walked. Something was off, but she couldn't quite place it.

Walking into the coffee shop, June relaxed into the familiar smell of roasted beans. One of her favorite smells, if anyone were to ask. She should remember to ask that on her next date. At the counter, she ordered her macchiato and then, because she couldn't resist, told the heavily-pierced barista that she had just moved in down the street.

"Cool," the barista said, not bothering to look up as she wrote June's name on the cup.

"Yeah," June persisted, "I was hoping for some sun today, but maybe it'll come out this afternoon."

The barista looked at her over the espresso machine. "Which building did you move to?"

"The Henrick. Right in the middle of the block?"

The barista smirked.

"What?" June asked.

"Most people come in here asking about the birds," she said.

"The birds?"

"Yeah," the barista moved June's cup under the portafilter, "asking where they went."

June's eyes narrowed to a squint. A habit her brother said made her look high. Was that why the streets felt so quiet? No birds? She wanted to ask, but it felt stupid.

The barista looked her up and down, while steaming the milk. "So no one's broken it to you yet." She smiled to herself. A sad smile, June thought.

"Just tell me."

The barista took her time pouring the steamed milk over her espresso. "It's all fake," she said.

She set June's cup on the counter between them and crossed her arms. "The birds, the sun, the fresh-laundry smell."

"What do you mean?"

"Years ago developers bought out a few buildings on this street." She pointed down the block. "Their permits said they were modernizing the buildings. Adding smart features to raise property values. Stimulate the local economy, and all that bullshit." She rolled her eyes.

"What they meant was putting AI simulators on every exterior."

June raised her eyebrows.

"Now any time someone comes to tour one of their buildings, they manipulate the surroundings to make it more appealing."

"No way," she whispered.

The barista nodded. "A few of my regulars say that these bots scrape your social media to see what your ideal weather is. They simulate it just often enough so that you don't complain, or stop noticing anyway."

June covered her mouth, her heart pounding. She started shaking her head.

"Sorry girl. Hate to burst your bubble." The barista turned to wipe down the espresso machine.

Despite herself, June could appreciate the irony. Her perfect new apartment. Really an AI bubble.