Voices from the Virtual: A VA's Descent into Digital Madness

I used to love the silence.

Remote work was a dream: pajamas, playlists, productivity. I worked as a virtual assistant for international clients—scheduling meetings, answering emails, ghostwriting blogs. My world was structured, contained, manageable.

Until the silence turned into whispers.

The First Glitch

It started subtly.

My headset would click on with no call connected. Just static—then faint murmurs. I assumed it was a Bluetooth bug or a neighbor’s signal bleeding through.

Then one whisper grew clearer:

"Don’t reply to that email. He’s lying."

I froze. The message wasn’t from a client—it was about one.

I laughed it off, unplugged the headset, and carried on.

But the voice didn’t stop. Even unplugged, I heard it

The Digital Spiral

I stopped using my headset altogether. But the whispers found new ways in. Auto-suggestions began forming in my email drafts—words I never typed.

"He wants control, not collaboration."

"Delete this client. He’s feeding off you."

"You’re not a VA. You’re a puppet."

Some part of me wanted to believe them. The clients had become overwhelming. Too many tasks, too little gratitude. I hadn’t spoken to Naima in three days.

Maybe the voice wasn’t madness—maybe it was clarity.

Identity Fracture

One morning, I woke up and found my tasks already completed.

My reports were sent. Emails answered. Zoom meetings logged.

But I didn’t do them.

I checked the activity log. My user credentials had been used at 3:47 AM. I was asleep.

Or was I?

he voice whispered:

"See how easy it is without you?"

"Why do they need the body when they already have the mind?"

Deep Disconnect

I shut everything down. Factory reset the laptop. Reinstalled apps. Switched platforms.

But the voice returned—this time through the to-do app. Not as whispers, but as new tasks:

“Delete Naima’s contact.”

“Resign from all clients.”

“Unplug the router. They’re watching.”

“Look in the mirror.”

I didn’t want to. But I did.

And what I saw wasn’t me.

It was a version of me: pale, robotic, eyes glazed. A reflection programmed by habit and screen light.

Breakdown or Breakthrough?

I called out—to no one. Screamed into silence. Then I sat, cross-legged, without a device for the first time in years.

The voice finally said something different.

"Now you're listening."

"Now we can talk."

The Truth Behind the Static

The voice, I realized, was never AI. It was the part of me I had silenced to serve others. The human voice—the real assistant—trying to protect me from being consumed by digital expectations, client demands, and the death of identity through remote submission.

It only sounded like madness because I had forgotten what inner voice even felt like.

The New Workflow

Now, I still work online—but I listen more closely. To myself. To silence. To warning signs.

I wear my headset again. But if the whispers ever return, I’ll thank them.

They reminded me that being virtually present doesn't mean being emotionally absent.

And that the scariest voice isn’t the one in the wires—it’s the one you ignore.