Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and not in any way intended to portray the actual Facebook founder, Mark Zuckerberg, who may or may not be an android.

The advent of the Digital Age gave rise to a phenomenon the world had never seen before: the social network. Social networking allowed individuals across the globe to communicate with each other in real-time and to connect across continents. MySpace gave way to a better, newer platform, this one created by the government’s DARPA program.

DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, is the Defense Department’s research arm, an agency that created the LifeLog Project. The LifeLog Project was an effort to build a database tracking a person’s entire lifetime of existence. On the day the project died, back in 2004, Facebook emerged. This was no accident, because government projects are like cockroaches; for every one you see, there are ten hiding somewhere in the walls. A project well-hidden from the public was DARPA’s attempt at creating a lifelike android. What they ended up with was Mark Zuckerberg.

Things went well and no one suspected anything until it came time for the android to be called in for a congressional hearing. In a room at DARPA headquarters, his handler/programmers, Wendy and Ryan, were absolutely freaking out.

“Did he bring the cushion?” Wendy asked.

“Yes, he’s got the cushion,” Ryan answered. “It’s going to make him look really weird, though. People are probably going to make videos about it, it’s so weird.”

“What’s weird about that?!” Wendy replied. “People take cushions with them to places.”

“Yeah: old people!”

“It’s needed,” said Wendy, cheeks getting redder and more flushed. “He needs the cushion to protect the delicate wiring.”

“Fine,” Ryan replied, pulling up a couple of chairs and taking a seat before the giant screens as the hearing began. He hoped everything would go smoothly. Still, he crossed his arms as Wendy took the seat beside him.


Just after 2:30 pm, the ZuckerBot sat down on his cushion and faced 44 U.S. Senators at his first-ever congressional hearing. Ryan rubbed his palms together in the observation room as he looked over at Wendy, whose forehead was covered in sweat. The big brown cushion really did look freaking weird, but for now, Ryan bit his tongue and watched. Mark Zuckerberg moved so mechanically and his wide eyes looked so very inhuman. Ryan gritted his teeth. The testimony continued, and eventually, Chuck Grassley posed some questions.

Grassley: “Have you ever required an audit to ensure the deletion of improperly transferred data? And if so, how many times?”

Zuckerberg: “Mr. Chairman, yes, we have. I don’t have the exact figure how many times we have…I can make sure that our team follows up with you on anything about the specific past stats that would be interesting.”

Grassley: “I can assume that sitting here today, you have no idea, and if I’m wrong on that, you’re able—you are telling me, I think—that you’re able to supply those figures to us, as least as of this point?”

Zuckerberg: “Mr. Chairman, I, I will have my team follow up with you on what information we have.”

Grassley: “Okay, but right now, you have no certainty of whether or not how much of that’s going on, right?”

Zuckerberg: (Blinks.)

Grassley: Okay.

Ryan fumed. “What the f*** was that, Wendy?!”

“I…I couldn’t anticipate every question that would be asked. I programmed him to defer to his team and say that he would get back to the person. It’s effective enough!”

“Oh my God! That’s so stupid!”

Ryan got up from his chair and began pacing around the room, muttering to himself. Eventually, he said, “Fine. You know what? This is fine. He’s gonna get through this hearing and then I’M TAKING OVER HIS PROGRAMMING!”

“He’s gonna be fine!” Wendy shouted.

“He’s not fine!” Ryan replied, pointing to the screen. “And the next time something weird happens, IT’S YOUR FAULT!”


Orrin Hatch: “Now, Mr. Zuckerberg, I remember well your first visit to Capitol Hill back in 2010…you said back then that Facebook would always be free. Is that still your objective?

Zuckerberg: “Senator, yes. There will always be a version of Facebook that is free…we’re committed to doing that.

Hatch: “Well, if so, how do you sustain a business model in which users don’t pay for your service?”

Zuckerberg: (Blinks.) “Senator, we run ads.” (Smirks.)

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” Ryan screamed. “’We run ads???’ It’s like you’re TRYING to tell the public what we’re up to!”

“I didn’t make him say that!”

“So what, he’s HUMAN all of a sudden?”

“No, he’s just awkward! He was an awkward human, and awkward humans make awkward androids! Anyway, he’s not lying! Facebook runs ads. That’s not how it generates revenue, but the public is too stupid to know that anyway!”

Ryan clenched his fists.

“Bring it, big boy,” said Wendy, squaring up.


It came time for Mark Zuckerberg to drink a glass of water. After all, he wasn’t 100 percent android yet, and his humanish throat was getting dry from all this talking. First, he looked at it, like examining a foreign object on a newfound planet. Then he slowly raised the glass to his lips, prepared his lips like a diver getting ready for an Olympic performance, raised his eyes, and sipped the tiniest bit of water, before running his tongue over it as though unsure of the taste.

“Who programmed him to be so awkward?!”

Ryan came barreling from across the room and tackled Wendy to the floor. An epic jiu jitsu match ensued. It was all recorded by the screens that were watching them, and then the video was stored by Facebook along with the audio in some DARPA file to be forgotten. Ryan and Wendy killed each other, and their existences were scrubbed from the record. And Mark Zuckerberg went through the rest of the hearing and continued on portraying a human being to an unsuspecting public for the rest of his days.