Jane Austen’s Elizabeth Bennet Joins Threads
In which Miss Bennet seeks out a Twitter replacement.
By Emma Brewer and Parisa Karami
“If I can find but one of these Twitter replacement apps in which to happily settle,” cried Elizabeth Bennet, “I shall have nothing left to wish for.” An invitation to join Threads was soon afterwards dispatched.
A report presently followed that twelve friends from Instagram, and six enemies from the same, had already joined Threads. Miss Bennet felt herself flying from one desire to another — to recreate her existing social circle, or to emerge into an altogether new scene with, perhaps, a livelier vibe.
And to which pasty overlord ought she attach her good name? The thin-skinned power-hungry egomaniac? Or the autocrat of metaverse flop fame, who heretofore possessed her data already? Such apprehensions do set a lady to wondering.
But Elizabeth did not wonder for long. She followed her curiosity and took a turn about the Threads assembly room. Soon, she was making her first pronouncement there: “To be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love,” a quip that at first flush may appear to have been saccharine, but, for those more familiar with Bennet’s disposition (which delighted in anything ridiculous) should have read as sardonic.
Two follow requests appeared in haste. One Mr. Bingley — whose online activity seemed amiable and unreserved — and one Mr. Darcy — whose avatar drew the attention of Miss Bennet, with its fine handsome features and noble mien.
However, Mr. Darcy’s presence comprised various brooding selfies, and disapproving comments beneath the portraits of many a young lady. Elizabeth muted him henceforth.
Woefully now, she was obliged by the scarcity of acquaintances to reconsider her prospects. In the old days of Twitter, her spirited storytelling and quick-humored countenance had credited Lizzie with quite an admirable follower count. But that once bustling hall was now dismal, and deeply strange, a gathering of unsavory bulletins presented without sense or, for that matter, sensibility.
Miss Bennet soon noticed a preponderance of lesser Threads accounts, following only to unfollow and follow again, this ungainly two-step a clear demand for attention. Evidently, in matters of decorum, a Thread may unravel as suddenly as a misbegotten engagement.
In a restless humor now, Elizabeth abandoned her phone and set forth on a bracing walk. “What delight! What felicity,” she said to herself. “Adieu to disappointment and spleen!” A jaunt along the lakes and mountains had given Miss Bennet a most agreeable scheme. She would delete her account and live among trees.
The next day opened a new scene at Netherfield. Elizabeth peered into the app, only to learn that one cannot cancel a Threads account, lest one also cancel one’s Instagram account. “Oh for fucks sake,” said Elizabeth Bennet, and she threw her phone onto some nearby horse poop where it belonged.
FINIS
