[ WP ] “ I want you to see me for what I really am. ” The strange use of “ what ” scared me .

A drip of condensation from her glass of water, which was perched precariously on the old CRT monitor, fell and slid down the screen. This paralleled the drip of sweat that was currently rolling down Joyce's face. 
 
 > **12:33:05** Unknown User: I want you to see me for what I really am. 
 
 `` What I really am'' 
 
 What... 
 
 `` Maybe he just forgot how to use pronouns.'' The thought was a feeble attempt to subside the train of thinking she was about to start down. 
 
 > **12:34:23** Joyce23: What are you? 
 
 > **12:34:24** Unknown User: I think you know. 
 
 The reply came before she had time to remove her finger from the enter key. 
 
 > **12:34:50** Joyce23: I have some work to do, I'll be back on later. 
 
 No response, what a creepy guy. 
 Joyce laughed at herself, and the fact that her social life currently consisted of browsing near abandoned internet chat rooms, trying to find someone half interesting to talk to. 
 `` Time for coffee.'' 
 
 The fatigued I.T engineer selected the least dirty mug from the sink, and halfheartedly rinsed it out. She packed the machine with coffee and hit the button. The little LED display light up, as it always does, to give her some insightful information: 
 
 > Replace filter. 
 
 It had been saying that for a good 6 months, yet coffee still tasted fine. 
 The machine beeped and the display changed. 
 
 > I thought you said you had work to do. 
 
 She rubbed her eyes and looked again but the display had turned off. 
 
 `` I'm losing my fucking mind being kept up in here.'' 
 
 Joyce took her coffee to the window sill, and stared outside at the developing snow storm. The weather was n't due to clear for another two days, and the boys would be stuck at the Ukrainian station until then. She chuckled to herself, knowing how much Riley hated the Ukrainians, and their penchant for speaking about others in the room in their mother tongue. 
 The clicking of the ancient supercomputer behind her, coupled with the howl of the Antarctic wind aided her drift into mindless thinking. 
 She was suddenly snapped back to lucidity when the satellite internet modem started furiously beeping. She walked over to it and saw that the status light had turned red. 
 
 `` The storm must have knocked out the connection, fuck!'' 
 
 She bat the modem across room in a violent outburst. 
 
 Joyce sat on the floor and put her head in her hands. It was going to be a long couple of days without internet, the social interaction she so badly craved would have to wait until the storm subsided. 
 
 As she sat on the floor, debating with herself whether to watch the only DVD they had on site: `` The Thing'' for the hundredth time, or play chess with herself, a familiar sound byte came from the supercomputer terminal. The chat room was still open. 
 
 > **12:52:37** Unknown User: Are you still there Joyce? 
 

