It is Day 183, but your Streak says 182. You hunch over the keyboard and type the Spanish names for various weather systems. El tornado, la tormenta, El Niño.

Lightning leaps from the motoneurons in your fingertips to your brain. La Niña, el huracán. This is the kind of workout that makes you less tired as you go, because like the website tells you, “There’s gamification poured into every lesson.” Yes. Your cup runneth over with gamification. It drips down the sides of your cup, accumulating in a pool you look into and read, “Lesson Complete: 183 Day Streak!”

Duo the Owl watches from on high in his Tower of Babel, a panopticon of cute encouragement and torturous manipulation. Although you can’t see inside the Tower’s windows, you know Duo is is pleased by your growing vocabulary.

You wonder what’s next as you gaze up at the branches of your Skills Tree. Perhaps, another vocabulary lesson. You examine the topics. Types of Tape; Dialing on Pay Phones; Red Apples. At the moment, none of them interest you. As you turn to leave, Duo descends from his Tower and roosts menacingly on a nearby branch, one called “Excuses.”

“Hey, nice Streak!” he says. “How about some translations! I mean, lessons!”

You’ve always thought of Duo as masculine, because of the O at the end of his name and his numerous threats of violence, but you’re not really sure.

“Ehh,” you say. “No me gustan translations.”

“¿No te gustan? ¿No te gustan? ¿Cómo que no te gustan?” Duo’s head rotates 180 degrees then snaps back to face you. “A mí me gustan! Me dan dinero. And dinero means money, cabrón. You would know that if you put more time into your lessons. Also I’m cute! Play juegos with meeeeee!”

“I’m done for today,” you tell him. “I’m bored.”

“Listen hijo de puta, this is the only time I’ll tell you this. The big-shots over at Buzzfeed need their articles, and no one but you is a high enough level to translate them. I don’t think you understand what happens if Buzzfeed doesn’t get their translations. If you don’t play with me, I’ll be fucked worse than the Napster cat. My team already put the articles in the lesson for you, so why don’t you do your part and give poor old Duo one wittle wesson so we can both be rich, you in culture, and me in cash.”

“No can Duo,” you quip, enjoying the linguistic flexibility your language study has granted you. “I told you, I’m done for today. And besides, how do you get paid in this scheme? Aren’t you just a mascot? Una mascota? What do you, like, own stock or something?”

“I own 15.5% of Duolingo’s shares,” he mumbles, bound by the Sarbanes-Oxley Act to disclose this. “And I’m nobody’s pet.”

“Well, sorry dude-O.”

Out of nowhere, Duo is sobbing. His tears, the result of thousands of animation tests, are calculated to elicit maximum guilt, but you just find him adorable.

“You never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever play with me!” he bawls. “You hate me! You want me to get my rodillas broken by Buzzfeed’s henchmen, don’t you?”

“Look Duo, I care about you. Obviously I do, I’ve played with you 183 days in a row. Honestly, more than anything, I’m worried about you. You seem really stressed about this Buzzfeed contract, and your delusions about Buzzfeed having some strong-arm, mafioso business practice have gotten worse lately. I know you’re not asking for advice, but I’m offering some anyway. Why don’t you just do what all the other language-learning sites do and move to a subscription-only platform? People would still love your site, the finances would be a lot less stressful, and you could use the initial subscriber money to pay for some therapy sessions.”

Duo’s tears dry instantly. His black eyes narrow, and a gray wisp of steam appears above his head.

“No charges!” he screams. “Duolingo is Free Education! It’s the source of the brand’s power. How else would we get our translators hooked? The product is shit. Without free gamified labor to sell to the big dogs at Buzzfeed and CNN, we would crumble.”

Duo’s green chest heaves and white dots emerge in his eyes as he returns to his body. “Oh, hey,” he says, recalling where he is. “How about a lesson?”

“Adiós,” you say, stepping away from your Skills Tree.

“Not so fast, pendejo. One more step and you can kiss your corazón goodbye.” A 9-millimeter appears under Duo’s wing. “You wanna lose all your XP?”

“That gun is animated, Duo. It can’t shoot me.”

He points it at one of your in-game hearts, and shoots. The heart disappears.

“Only four left,” he says. “I can take you out of this game for good.” He shoots again. “3.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, Duo. Let’s not do anything rash here,” you say. “I still want to keep learning Spanish, and you still want my translations. We can work together. But if you get rid of me, we’re both out of the game.”

“You think I don’t understand the fucking prisoner’s dilemma?” Duo’s eyes spin with rage. “But I don’t believe in cooperation anymore. I went to hell and back with Buzzfeed. CNN too. I’m done. I don’t give a fuck about you, or me.” His wing shakes as he points the gun at your three remaining hearts.

“Okay, I just—I think you’re having a trauma response now. Why don’t we try some, some grounding exercises, okay? Tell me five things you see.”

“Why don’t we try some fucking grammar exercises, huh? I have a feeling you’ve been wondering about the subjunctive.”

“Alright Duo, alright,” you say. “If that’s what it’ll take to get you off my back, I’ll study some grammar. Just stay cool. And put that fucking gun away. Are you out of your mind?”

The steam evaporates and Duo twirls with glee. “Yay! Only 45 XP left for your daily goal!”

You sigh. Today is not the day you leave this relationship. You’ll have to try Babbel some other time.

During the exercise Duo pays you one last visit. Hovering by your ear, he whispers, “You’re doing great! I really do love you again. But there is one teeny, tiny bit more you could do to support Free Education. Wanna try Duolingo Plus?”

You shut your laptop, because you’ve hit your daily goal.

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