This is the best story to read. We’re explaining this now, so it’s clear in your mind. In the time just now since you turned your face towards the screen, we’ve run simulations; we’ve consulted virtual focus groups; we’ve looked at the consequences of you reading this story, or another less suitable story, or of not reading a story at all, and the results of those analyses are unambiguous: this is quite categorically the best story you could be reading right now, the best use of your time. Please be assured that this story has been tailored to your age, your personality, your gender, your upbringing, your interests, your tolerances and prejudices, your role in society. It will do you no harm to be reading this story; quite the contrary, you will benefit substantially from doing so. This isn’t to say that the process of reading the story won’t hurt in any way, because it will; there are one or two points within the story, at optimally selected intervals, which will be gut-wrenching, and they will be particularly affecting for you because of your nature and your situation and because of the deep personal empathy which you’ll feel towards each of the two protagonists, neither of whom you’ve met yet because the story has not properly started at this point. This slow, elliptic indirect commencement to the story—has it yet begun, or has it not?—is something, too, which is a facet of the type of reading matter which you prefer, and from which you’ll gain the most; we know these things about you. There will be no trigger warnings, the product placement will be sufficiently subtle that you’ll never notice it, the climactic and abruptly ending scene of physical intimacy will be confronting, but only to an extent with which you’ll be able to cope, likewise the sporadic episodes of brutality and violence; and the affirming sense of catharsis you’ll gain from the narrative will substantiate the realisation which will build within you, as your eyes scan the screen, that this is indeed the best story you’ve read. There will be wonder, too, and a bittersweet beauty to the story’s evolution: it will surprise you, repeatedly, but you will see that, in hindsight, it should not have done. This is how all good stories are, as you know.
You are in good hands with us, and—admit it—you are feeling better already, merely from reading these words which, after all, are not yet part of the story which has been selected and indeed shaped for you, this best possible story for you; it’ll be exactly what you need, starting very soon now. It’s going to be so good. It’s no exaggeration to say it’ll be something you’ll cherish, this story, something you will treasure, something you will carry in your memory through the difficult days that remain, something you’ll return to again and again, because it’s layered and elusive and allusive and all those things you appreciate; it’s something which will comprehensively brighten your mood as so few things can these days, with all the onerous requirements made of you and your loved ones within the current unfortunate predicament. In your mind, as you read it, it will evoke an earlier, better, simpler time when the struggle of life was not as it is now, and you’ll weep—we’re confident of this—for how things have changed, for you and for all those with whom you’ve been able to maintain a degree of contact. It has not been easy, and you’ll weep, at the fate of the story’s lovers, yes, but also at everything which the story concerns but leaves carefully unstated. We obviously all wish that things could be better; indeed, things can be better, things will and must improve, but amelioration must be worked for, nothing comes without cost; we appreciate that those costs may appear steep to you, of course we acknowledge this, and we express an appropriate sense of regret at the privations you continue to experience; but please know that your contributions in this regard are valuable to us, and ultimately to you too, and to those around you for whom we remain able to provide the necessary sustenance. Your service is appreciated, and this story provides a recognition of this service; by reading this story, you’ll know how deeply we respect the efforts you have made, the sacrifices, as we respect, too, the sacrifices you will yet need to make, if we are to meet our goals as we are sure you wish us to do. So, please, enjoy this story, which will be commencing now immediately on the next reprieve opportunity, which will be made known to you at the appropriate time and in the usual manner, once you’ve completed the next tranche of difficult but necessary tasks. It’s always good to have something to look forward to, and you’re going to love this story.

Simon Petrie
Born and raised in North Canterbury (New Zealand), Simon Petrie now lives in Canberra (Australia), where he is paid to be careful with words. His work has appeared in Overland, Aurealis, Dimension6, Kaleidotrope, Sybil's Garage and elsewhere. He is a three-time winner of the Sir Julius Vogel award and received a coveted Dishonourable Mention in the 2012 Bulwer-Lytton competition.
Find his short story, “Of Why the Sea” in Overland.
Your story genuinely left a huge impression on me. The realism, emotions, and atmosphere were unforgettable. While reading, I couldn’t stop imagining how visually stunning it could become through animation. Your writing already has such cinematic strength that I truly believe visual adaptation could help it reach top-tier recognition and draw even more readers to your future chapters. As both an avid reader and commissioned artist, I’d genuinely love to collaborate if that interests you. Feel free to reach out on Inst@gr@am: elsaa.uwu or Di$c0rd: elsaa_uwu.