I hope that memes jump out of our computers in the future.

Host: The night was humming with the low buzz of neon lights, and the city seemed to breathe — a digital pulse beneath the wet asphalt. Inside a small, forgotten arcade café, two silhouettes sat by the window, faces flickering in the cold reflection of a broken screen.
Jack leaned forward, his grey eyes sharp, fingers tapping on a flickering keyboard.
Jeeny sat across from him, her hair falling like shadow and silk, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips.

The quote still hovered between them — Colleen Ballinger’s strange, almost prophetic wish:

“I hope that memes jump out of our computers in the future.”

Jeeny: "Imagine that, Jack — memes alive, walking, breathing among us. Isn’t that kind of beautiful? The collective imagination of the internet made real?"

Jack: "Beautiful? It sounds like a nightmare, Jeeny. Chaos given legs. Have you seen what the internet creates when no one’s watching? If memes could jump out, we’d drown in our own madness."

Host: A faint laugh escaped Jeeny, but her eyes stayed serious. The rain outside slid down the window, a slow curtain of silver lines.

Jeeny: "You say that because you only see the noise, not the meaning. Memes aren’t just jokes — they’re our modern hieroglyphs, our language of emotion. They carry our grief, our humor, our resistance. When George Floyd died, when the world was burning, what did people share? Memes — not to mock, but to cope, to connect, to say: ‘We see you.’ If those symbols could step out, they’d be empathy made visible.”

Jack: "Empathy? No. They’d be echoes, not beings. We’d be haunted by our own irony. Look at the ‘Pepe the Frog’ saga — once an innocent cartoon, then twisted into a political weapon. If memes could walk, they’d carry every corruption we’ve projected onto them. You’re talking about manifesting the collective unconscious — and that’s terrifying."

Host: The arcade’s lights flickered again, the air humming like an old machine trying to remember how to breathe. Jeeny’s hands trembled slightly as she lifted her cup, eyes lost in the steam.

Jeeny: "You always fear what’s alive, Jack. Even if it’s only symbolic. Think of the Renaissance — people feared printing presses, said that books would destroy memory, that knowledge would be cheapened. But look what happened — ideas escaped, and civilization flourished. Maybe memes jumping out is the next evolution — the democratization of creativity, the birth of shared imagination."

Jack: "Or the death of reality. We already can’t tell what’s true online. If memes could leap into the physical world, every belief, every illusion could take shape. Imagine a conspiracy meme walking into your home, smiling, breathing. That’s not imagination, Jeeny — that’s infection."

Host: The tension thickened, like smoke curling between two flames. The sound of a distant arcade game — digital laughter, artificial yet eerily alive — echoed through the room.

Jeeny: "But Jack, isn’t that what we’ve always done? We’ve breathed life into our stories, our gods, our monsters. Frankenstein, the Golem, even Pinocchio — all creations yearning to be real. Memes are the same, just born from pixels instead of clay. Maybe we’re just trying to connect, to touch our own collective imagination."

Jack: "You make it sound poetic, but it’s not. Those stories warned us. Frankenstein’s monster wasn’t about creation — it was about responsibility. Humanity keeps creating things it can’t control — and you call that hope?"

Jeeny: "Yes, because hope is what keeps us creating. Without it, we’d still be cave-dwellers, afraid of fire. Every invention begins as a leap of faith, Jack — even the internet you distrust so much."

Host: Jack’s jaw tightened. His reflection in the window looked older, tired, as if the blue light had drained something human from him. Jeeny’s voice softened — warm, but steady as a heartbeat.

Jack: "Faith won’t save us from what we unleash. When AI starts mimicking human creativity, when it starts making memes of its own — who’s the author then? Who’s responsible for what’s born?"

Jeeny: "Maybe it’s not about authorship anymore. Maybe it’s about participation — a shared soul of creation. Every meme is already a remix, a collaboration of thousands. Isn’t that what being human is — to evolve through what others imagine?"

Jack: "Or to lose ourselves in the noise. We’ve become avatars of our own opinions, echoing humor we didn’t make, believing lies wrapped in laughter. If memes could jump out, Jeeny, they wouldn’t hug us — they’d mock us. They’d show us what we’ve become."

Jeeny: "Then maybe that’s the truth we need. Maybe if our memes — our shadows — could walk beside us, we’d finally see ourselves clearly. You talk about infection, but maybe it’s medicine — bitter, yes, but necessary."

Host: The air was thick now, charged with electricity. Outside, a flash of lightning cut the sky, and for a moment, their faces glowed — two believers on opposite sides of a fragile truth.

Jack: "You want to humanize the artificial. But tell me, Jeeny — if a meme steps into your room and smiles at you, would you laugh, or would you scream?"

Jeeny: "I’d listen, Jack. I’d ask it what we’ve been trying to say all this time — behind the sarcasm, the absurdity, the pain. Because every meme — every joke — hides a truth we’re too afraid to speak. Maybe that’s why Colleen Ballinger said what she did — maybe she wanted our humor to finally touch us."

Jack: "Or to haunt us. You think it’s art; I think it’s the abyss wearing a smile."

Jeeny: "And I think the abyss has always been us, Jack — just waiting for a chance to wave back."

Host: Silence fell like a veil. The rain had stopped, and the city outside shimmered in post-storm light. Jack’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he smiled — not in sarcasm, but in quiet surrender.

Jack: "Maybe you’re right. Maybe the memes already jumped out, and we’re the ones trapped in their world — living, breathing, sharing, liking, looping ourselves into infinity."

Jeeny: "Maybe. But if that’s true, then let’s make sure the world they’ve escaped into is still worth the laughter."

Host: The lights dimmed to a soft, electric glow. The screen in front of them flickered, showing a meme — two cartoon figures holding hands beneath a glitching sky.

They both laughed, quietly, as if the universe had just told them a secret.

And somewhere, in the unseen matrix of wires and light, something — perhaps — smiled back.