Patrick Childress
August 9, 2025 – Palo Alto, California
Good morning, gentleman. It’s wonderful to be back in sunny Palo Alto—thank you for taking the time to listen to my pitch. If you give me fifteen minutes, I am certain I can convince you of the enormity of the opportunity I am offering. Shall we jump right in? Good.
Tell me sirs, what is the most universal form of human recreation? Take a moment. Really think about this.
Sports? No, Josh, not sports. Billions of people have no interest in athletics.
No, Blake, not sex either. It’s popular, I’ll give you that. But not nearly universal. Think of the elderly. Think of children. Many adults do not partake either. Keep thinking.
No, it’s not eating. Clever answer though, Conor. Eating is a necessity of life. But eating is not recreation.
Do you give up?
The answer, good sirs, is this: the most universal form of human recreation is looking at one’s own reflection.
Your crossed arms tell me you’re skeptical. You’re squirming in your Patagonia vests. But please bear with me. Ask yourselves this: when you brushed your teeth this morning, what were you looking at? You were staring at yourselves, were you not? And after you got dressed, did you check yourself in the mirror? Probably more than once, I’d wager. And once in the car, when you adjusted the rear-view mirror, did you, Blake, take a peek at your mustache? Ensure it was breakfast crumb-free? You did, didn’t you? And a fine mustache it is.
What about when you arrived at the office this morning? In the elevators. You stared at yourselves in the mirrored elevator walls for the entirety of the five-floor trip up to this conference room, did you not? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I did it too.
I don’t ask all this to make you question your vanity—this is standard behavior, a universal habit, a human need. And it requires one simple, everyday tool: the common mirror.
The mirror—as we know it today—was invented in 1835. Now it is ubiquitous. In every home, every automobile, every truck stop bathroom. Your wives carry half a dozen of them in their make-up bags alone.
Now I ask you, good sirs, do you find it odd that a piece of technology so central to our lives has not changed in 200 years? That mirror you gazed at while brushing your teeth this morning is the same mirror that frontiersmen used to shave in their covered wagons while settling the American West.
If there is a product riper for disruption than the common mirror, I am not aware of it.
***
October 14, 2026 – New York City
Let me just say, it’s a pleasure to share a cappuccino with you this afternoon, Jocelyn. It has been a dream of mine to appear in Forbes, but I never expected to be tapped for the ’30 under 30’ list. ’40 under 40’ maybe, but not ’30 under 30’. My, this has all happened rather quickly, hasn’t it?
You look eager to start the interview, but first, are you hungry? The macaroons here are cracking. Okay, no worries. I should have known—you don’t appear to be the type to indulge in sweets.
Oh, no Jocelyn, I’m not British. This is just the manner in which I speak. I’m from Ohio. You’re not the first person to ask me that though.
Right, you want to know about the genesis of my idea. That goes back to a social media post I read a few years ago. A story about—of all things—elevators. Would you like to hear it? Good.
It’s a story dating back to the late 1800s. An era when cities were booming, urban populations were expanding, and space was limited. The natural result? Developers built up, constructing taller and taller buildings. The first skyscrapers, Jocelyn. And do you know what technology enabled these builders to reach toward the heavens? Elevators.
But there were two problems. First, elevators in the 1800s were slow. And second, elevators in the 1800s were not particularly safe. Passengers understandably were squeamish about the prospect of lengthy elevator rides up to the highest floors of these rising urban towers. And as buildings grew higher and higher, that squeamishness got worse and worse.
Do you know, Jocelyn, how building owners solved this dilemma?
No, not faster elevators. That tech was years away. And no, they did not make elevators safer either. So what did they do?
The solution was simple. Analog. Staring them right in the face, so to speak. Building owners installed floor-to-ceiling mirrors in their elevators. Providing passengers with an opportunity to stare at themselves solved both problems. It seems that humans can be entertained for extended periods simply by gazing at their own reflections. Suddenly, the complaints about slow elevators disappeared. Problem one solved. What is more, after the mirrors appeared, passenger anxiety plummeted. It seems that staring at our own likenesses makes us feel calm, safe, out of harm’s way. Problem two solved.
This simple, hundred-year-old anecdote changed my life. In that moment, I recognized the depth of our psychological connection to our own physical appearance. For the first time, I appreciated the importance of the human self-image, as reflected in the humble mirror.
I had my niche. Now I needed a product.
Before I get to that, Jocelyn, I notice that you keep glancing up above my shoulder.
No, absolutely no offense taken. This is helpful. This window behind me, the glass is reflective, is it not? You are checking your reflection, aren’t you? I’ve counted nine times that you’ve done so since we sat down. No, no, it’s not a problem at all. Nothing to be ashamed of. You are obviously someone that takes pride in her appearance and that is a wonderful thing. Plus, whenever I see this sort of behavior, it confirms for me that my company is on the right track. So, thank you for that.
Now back to the mirror. How would I update this simple technology? What would be my big breakthrough? I started with the most foundational question. What do mirrors do? Well Jocelyn, in broad terms, they reflect how we look. That is, they reflect how we look today, here and now. For some, this is not an inspiring image.
Imagine a person—much less fit than yourself—that wakes up every morning, waddles into the bathroom, and pauses in front of the mirror. What do they see? Is it a meaty stomach bulge creeping farther and farther across the vanity each day? Telling them ‘Give up, accept this fate’? Perhaps it’s underarm flab swaying to and fro, hypnotizing them, and whispering ‘Why even bother—these batwings are here to stay.’ Or maybe it’s a backside the size of a VW beetle that’s taunting them each morning, saying ‘beep beep, I’ll be back here forever.’
How would those images make you feel? Defeated? Hopeless? For a large segment of humanity, this is their reality. Mirrors are a source of pain, shame, sadness. I set out to change this.
Wouldn’t it be interesting, I thought, if mirrors could reflect not just how we look today, but also how we want to look tomorrow? How would humans respond if, when they looked in the mirror, they saw an aspirational image looking back at them?
With that simple question, the Morph was born. A new kind of mirror. One that doesn’t reflect your current self, but instead reflects your ideal self. The Morph shows you what you could be. What you should be. What you will be at your best. Simply set your desired weight on our app, and our proprietary algorithm produces and reflects an image of you adjusted to your goal weight. We show you—instantly and undeniably—what the results of your hard work can and will be. The Morph isn’t a diet. The Morph isn’t an exercise regimen. The Morph is a motivator. We motivate clients to be their best selves.
And what is the most universal motivator? Our desire to look in the mirror and be happy with what we see. That was my breakthrough. And I’ve used that insight to help millions of clients lead happier, healthier lives.
Jocelyn, I see you tapping your pen on your notebook. You’re tilting your head to the side about fifteen degrees. Sorry, I don’t mean to be invasive. It’s just that I’m a student of human behavior. And your current posture indicates that you have a question. What is on your mind?
Right, you’re curious to know about these so-called ‘thick pics’. Well, yes, Jocelyn. It is true that the Morph doesn’t only show skinnier versions of our clients. Let me provide some context.
In our early testing, we tried various motivational approaches. Some subjects only saw the idealized, final versions of themselves every day. Other subjects saw images of themselves that became progressively fitter each day. We tracked each group’s progress. One beautiful aspect of our system is that we get instant and constant feedback in the form of images from our clients. So we know precisely which clients are succeeding and which images are inspiring that success.
In time, we discovered that some of our clients benefitted from seeing less flattering pictures of themselves. “Thick pics” as they’re now known. That’s not my term—our clients developed that colorful phrase. It’s not something we necessarily endorse, but it is memorable, is it not?
We found that many of our clients—at least in certain circumstances—responded well to, on occasion, being confronted with a “thick pic.” Take Thanksgiving Day. We observed that clients made healthier choices on Turkey Day when faced with an unflattering reflection of themselves that morning. A chunky self-image will linger somewhere deep in a client’s mind, and when dinner rolls around, they go easy on grandma’s giblet gravy. They take a pass on the pumpkin pie this year. This, for us, is what success looks like.
Through “thick pics”, we realized that the Morph could be both a carrot and a stick. That our device is most effective when it tempts clients with skinny images some days, and scares them straight with not-so-skinny images other days. But this has left us with two problems. Problem one: how do we determine the optimal mix of “thick pics” versus “stick pics”? That’s “stick pics”—like skinny as a twig—another gem of a term our clients invented. And problem two: how do we personalize the presentation such that each client receives the optimal sequence of images for its specific needs?
Well, Jocelyn, I am thrilled today to announce that I have solved both problems.
Are you ready, Jocelyn, for this massive story I am about to present to you? I’ll give you a moment to prepare—you are going to want to get this all down.
Today I am announcing an epic new feature: the Morph’s Personal Trainer mode. To be included with all new models starting January 1, 2026.
How does Personal Trainer mode solve the two problems I mentioned? Algorithms, Jocelyn. We took all the data we had gathered from clients, and fed that data into a brand new, cutting-edge algorithm designed specifically by us, for us. The algorithm trained on our data, improved itself, and now, it’s ready for prime time. For the first time, we can now feed each client a bespoke diet of images of themselves, tailored to their individual needs. The perfect sequence of body images for each client—this has always been the dream. And today, that dream is reality.
For some, their Personal Trainer will present aspirational images of their ideal bodies. Others will receive unflattering likenesses meant to shock and motivate through fear. Most will see a mix of both. But everyone will have a personalized, one-of-a-kind Morph experience. Our algorithm knows how to motivate you better than you know how to motivate yourself. Trust it. Follow it. And reap the rewards. Personal Trainer mode will guide clients to healthier weights and happier lives with new speed and enhanced effectiveness.
I’m not surprised you look a bit stunned, Jocelyn. You must realize the gravity of the information I have just conveyed. And here’s the best part: Jocelyn, I’d like you to break this story. I’d like you to introduce the world to the Morph’s Personal Trainer mode. Will you accept the exciting opportunity I am offering you today?
***
July 9, 2027 – Austin, Texas
Good morning, Nicole. That’s a lovely blazer. Would we call that peacock blue? I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. Several close associates recommended you, so I’m certain you can help us out of this little pickle we find ourselves in.
Oh yes, I most certainly do understand the gravity of the charges. That’s why I’ve hired you. I’m told you’re the best in the city. And I’m hoping your connections in the DA’s office will be an asset to us. Not that you’d ever do anything unethical, but it’s good to know that those lines of communication will be open.
Before we get to your binder of questions there, may I set the stage a bit? I’m sure you know the basic history of my company. The speed with which I grew it. The life-changing product I designed. I was even featured in Forbes magazine. 30 under 30. You probably knew that. Well around that time, we released an exciting new feature that took our Morphs to a new level. Personal Trainer mode.
Like all our products, Personal Trainer mode was a smashing success. Our clients loved the new feature and enjoyed rapid results. Some numbers for you: average progression toward goal weight accelerated 25 percent almost overnight. Then we collected all of our early data, ran it all back through the algorithm, refined the system further, and ‘bam’ 35% acceleration toward health goals. Life-changing results for our clients. It fills me with pride to repeat those numbers. Impressive, don’t you think?
I hear your foot tapping under the table, Nicole. I sense your growing impatience. I understand. But the undeniable success of Personal Trainer mode is a critical part of the story. This information must be a core pillar of our legal defense. So I will continue, Nicole, and then we can move on to whatever is inside your little binder there. Sound fair enough?
Once I knew how beautifully Personal Trainer mode was working, I wanted to sign up as many new clients as possible. The best way to do that? Publicize our clients’ results. I’m not talking ads on the sides of buses. We needed advertising that tapped into that most powerful of human emotions. And what emotion is that? Jealousy, Nicole. And what’s the most powerful sort of jealousy? Jealousy of our closest friends and dearest family.
This insight led me to my next breakthrough: compulsory social media sharing. We required our clients to provide us access to their social media accounts, and we posted daily updates on their progress toward their goals.
Yes, you understand that correctly, Nicole. We posted our clients’ weight for all to see. Friends, family, neighbors, co-workers. And we did this each day. A brilliant motivator, don’t you think?
Linking to social media generated marvelous results. The social exposure and public accountability accelerated our clients’ weight loss journeys even more. And this, it turned out, was our most effective marketing tool.
Do you know what our clients’ social media contacts did when they saw their cousin in Kentucky miraculously lose the baby weight in three weeks? When their best friend from high school suddenly, out of nowhere, looked as slim as she did on prom night? Did they shrug and reach for the Funyuns? No! They bought a Morph.
And then their contacts bought Morphs and so on and so forth.
You see, social pressure is a powerful thing, Nicole. And we found a way to harness that social pressure for good. A way to leverage the jealousy inside all of us to help people live healthier, happier lives. And to do so as quickly as possible.
That’s right, Nicole, to lose weight as quickly as possible.
And as our client base expanded—in numbers, not in their waistlines!—we collected even more data. We feed all that data back into the algorithm. The algorithm continues to refine itself, and our results continue to improve. Today, we are homing in on the perfect mix of aspirational images, thick pics, and in-betweens. We are humming right along.
No, Nicole, clients cannot opt out of social media sharing. We see that requirement as critical to our clients’ success and core to our business model.
Well no, Nicole, we certainly don’t want clients who are gaining weight to be able to opt out of online sharing. Those clients need the social pressure to improve their health the most. If we let our struggling clients opt out of social media, they would lose that critical motivation. I won’t let our clients give up on themselves like that. I care about them too much. You understand that, don’t you, Nicole?
Look, Nicole. Yes, of course I am aware of this notion of anorexia. But what does that term mean, really? Look at it from my perspective. If I help our clients achieve their health goals, I am celebrated. A hero. A visionary. But if I help our clients achieve their health goals too quickly, all of a sudden the media labels me an evil purveyor of anorexia. Now we have the District Attorney calling me a warper of young girls’ minds. Unfair, don’t you think? Nowhere in these charging documents does the State of Texas mention the life-changing results I achieved for my clients. Millions of them, happy, healthy, satisfied. Instead, the focus is on a tiny minority whose results were suboptimal. I noticed that you’re not writing this down, Nicole. Shall I repeat it? This all must be part of our defense.
Certainly, Nicole, we were aware of those unfortunate incidents. What I am not aware of is any proof that our product played any role. Suicide is complicated. A phenomenon that can have many causes. Yes, these individuals were our clients, but no, you cannot link the Morph to their deaths. Who can say with any certainty why these poor souls took their own lives?
Some of those individuals were progressing nicely toward their health goals using our product. You would agree, would you not, that at least those clients did not end their lives because they were losing weight using their Morphs. In fact, that weight loss may have been the last remaining light in their otherwise dark, depressing lives. Perhaps these clients would have offed themselves sooner had they not slimmed down thanks to the Morph. But do we get any credit for extending those clients’ lives? No, Nicole. No, we do not.
Well, yes, of course we took action after these incidents. We fed all the negative data into the algorithm, and the algorithm adjusted Personal Trainer mode based on those unfortunate outcomes.
No, I can’t be more specific than that. The algorithm adjusts itself. And it does so based on all the data it receives—the good and the bad. So, I can’t tell you what concrete changes the algorithm made based on the negative client experiences you mentioned. But we know the algorithm works—our results speak for themselves. Shall I take you through the numbers again?
Well, Nicole, if you phrase your question that way, then yes, I guess we did have some expectation that some small minority of clients might experience negative psychological impacts from our product. But again, you are looking at this through the wrong lens. With respect, Nicole, you are being gloomy, tunnel-visioned, a negative-Nancy. Here is where you need to focus: The Morph has helped millions of clients meet their health goals. That cannot be a crime. I won’t apologize for improving people’s lives. That’s our legal defense. Right there.
And that’s not the end of it either. Think of our investors. They’ve certainly done quite well for themselves. But does this glum district attorney mention the massive returns our investors have enjoyed? All of the Range Rovers purchased and prep school tuition bills paid on the back of my innovation? These are rhetorical questions, Nicole, you don’t need to answer.
And the pygmies! How could I forget? Did you know that a percentage of all Morph sales goes to building wells for the mountain pygmies of Papua New Guinea? The judge must be made aware of those adorable little pygmies, Nicole. Drinking their clean, typhoid-free water all because of my Morph. I’ll tell you one thing, those pygmies don’t have any weight problems. Skin and bones. They didn’t even have mirrors until we shipped them some product. No charge, of course.
Speaking of which, Nicole, if you are going to defend us, it’s important that you familiarize yourself with our product. What’s the best shipping address for you?
***
March 22, 2028 – Huntsville, Texas
Big Joe, are you awake up there? Never mind, I know you’re awake. I hear you muttering about a quote unquote “little bitch” that, it seems, disrespected you in the cafeteria line. Big Joe, look around our cozy lodgings here. I count four basic items: a toilet, a sink, these bunk beds, and one other thing. Do you know what that fourth item is, Big Joe? That fourth item is a mirror. A ten-inch by ten-inch mirror, right above the sink. It seems the powers that be recognize that even fellows in our unfortunate situation will go a bit nutty if we can’t look at our own reflections multiple times a day.
What’s that, Big Joe? You would like me to shut the fuck up? Well, let me just ask you this, Big Joe: what is the most universal form of human recreation?
No, Big Joe, it’s not whooping my ass, as you so colorfully put it. Why don’t you get some rest up there? When you are in a less irritable mood, we can discuss your health. Your mattress is really sagging, Big Joe. It’s drooping down inches from my face. Lucky for you, I can help you with that.
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Patrick Childress is a writer and attorney living in Washington D.C. with his wife and two young sons. His fiction has been accepted for publication in Isele Magazin, Eastern Iowa Review, and Twin Bird Review.