“Thank you for calling SoulTech Support. This is Rebecca. How may I assist you today?”  

“Hi yeah,” I replied hesitantly. I was already beginning to regret the call. “There’s some trouble with my Moral Compass. It’s kind of… spinning of control.” 

“Ah yes, the Moral Compass 3000. Common issue.” Rebecca answered wisely. “When was the last time you recalibrated it?” 

“Recalibrated?” I echoed dumbly. 

“Yes, looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m a good person” three times a day.” 

I paused. “And that works?” 

“Depends on how convincingly you say it.”  

“Uh…” 

“Let’s skip that step.” She hurried. “Have you updated the software recently? The latest version fixes compatibility issues occurring with ethical dilemmas, like self-driving car ethics and assisted dying. Hold on, let me check. Yes, looks like you’re still on version 4.0. Very outdated.” 

“Okay, how do I update it?” 

“It’s simple. Just connect your Moral Compass to a Wi-Fi network, meditate on the phrase ‘What would my grandmother think?’ for three to five minutes, and the update shoulda download automatically.” 

“Meditate?” I repeated, incredulously. 

“If that doesn’t work, you’ll have to chant “I’m doing my best” while holding the sensing crystal.” 

“I don’t have the crystal.” I said dryly. 

“Really? It comes with the starter kit. Try checking that.” 

“I think I threw it out with the box” I admitted. 

The tech support made a sympathetic noise.” We recommend keeping all accessories. You never know when it will be needed.” 

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Are there any other easier methods?” 

“Alternatively, you could upgrade to the Moral Compass Pro. It comes with pre-installed filters for morally grey areas and justifiable white lies. Only $299.90.” 

“Three hundred dollars for a compass?” 

“For a peace of mind.” Rebecca corrected. “It’s really priceless.” 

“I’ll think about it.” I said although we both knew it was a lie. 

“Is there anything else I can assist with?” 

I glanced at my Empathy Sensor, which had been lighting up like a Christmas Tree since yesterday. “Yeah, my Empathy Sensor keeps overloading. I cried during a commercial for toilet papers today.” 

“Classic sensitivity issue,” Rebecca said knowingly. “You’ll need to download Empathy Firmware Update 5.4. It adjusts the threshold for emotions, so you’ll be less affected by, uh… highly absorbent products.”  

“Great. How do I get that?” 

“You can find the download link on our website. Oh, and make sure your Cynicism Processor is up to date, or they might crash.” 

“I have a Cynicism Processor?” 

“Everyone does. It’s pre-installed.” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I could feel a migraine flaring up. “Let’s not talk about that. My Ego Amplifier is acting up at the most inappropriate times.” 

“Sounds like a configuration issue. Try deflating it manually by thinking of all your worst failures.” 

“But won’t that crash my Self Esteem Module?” 

“It’s a very delicate balance,” Rebecca admitted. “Honestly, if you’re having these many issues, you should consider a complete reset. It erases all past decisions and resets your entire SoulTech system to its original settings. You’ll forget everything. Some customers reviewed it to be very appealing, you know?” 

I thought about it, staring at my Moral Compass, still spinning wildly around. “I don’t think so. Maybe next time.” 

Rebecca said cheerfully, “Take your time. And remember, at SoulTech, we’re dedicated to help you feel approximately human again.” 

I hung up, only for my Empathy Sensor to begin beeping, likely triggered by my annoyance. I sighed, grabbing the user manual again. Page after page of senseless diagrams and vague instructions unfurled before me. “Oh, why did I ever buy this thing?” My Moral Compass spun faster, mocking me. The Ego Amplifier strapped on my wrist hummed, assuring me that I was probably doing my best. I decided to try the recalibration. Standing in front of a mirror, I held up the compass. “I am a good person,” I said. The needle twitched but didn’t stop spinning. 

“I am a good person,” I repeated, louder this time. The needle hesitated, then resumed its frantic dance. 

“I AM A GOOD PERSON!” 

The compass froze for a moment. Then the needle swung toward “Delusional”. I tossed the Compass onto the desk. SoulTech clearly wasn’t equipped to handle someone like me. My phone then buzzed with an email notification. It was from SoulTech: “Thank you for your call. Based on your recent inquiry, we’ve enrolled you in our premium support plan. First month free. After that, $49.99 per month.” 

I groaned, clicking the unsubscribe link which redirected me to a survey asking why I wanted to cancel. 

• Too expensive 

• Features not useful 

• Prefer a competitor 

• Existential despair 

I checked the last box and hit submit. A pop-up appeared: “We’re sorry to see you go. Would you like to leave feedback?” 

I typed: “Sell a version that works.” 

The website thanked me for my honesty and suggested I consider their new SoulTech Ultra package. I turned off my phone before I could read the details. Some problems, I realized, couldn’t be solved by tech support. I picked up my Moral Compass and placed it on the shelf. Maybe it just needed time to reset itself. Or maybe I did. Either way, I wasn’t calling Rebecca again anytime soon.