Sitting here with my devices tonight, I feel entirely disconnected. People in this place, on this phone, the limitless information streaming to my laptop… I should be closer to something than ever. Maybe it is that I am, and that the thing joining it is loneliness.
I just took the enterprise dive, the hologram slam right into one of your closets. I laid in bed with my eyes closed, imagining the scenario….then fumbling for my phone, trying to write it all down with my thumb before I fell asleep.
And while I was in there, messing around, I came across the care package I sent you a long time ago. You had held on to some part of it, I believed it, and I could see it there.
I thought, what sort of a fucking shame was that, to have cared so much that I still appear in your home. Your apartment. Your house. Beside a computer console of cheap, sawdust-glued composite with the long shelf across the top. In front of multiple square mirrors. Anywhere the light had cast.
And what more, I wondered, under my comforter and slipping away fast, given how much he had helped me back then, what more I could have learned during this very confusing time.
That character who stopped developing. I must have loved him. That lucky son of a bitch.
These machines have become so small that I can hold them in my hand and always be here, there, in the moment and away. I find the contacts every day and I plug them in. But I tell you what. It’s not the same as when the names were lit and we were all at the same place in different worlds. States apart and I felt closer to that mind piece, than I do today.
Those words in those moments…
Now the impulses are translated and they scroll in funny thought bubbles and it worries me. Scares me. I get the sinking feeling that they just don’t…make the whole trip. Anymore.
I had this vision when I was just a sore person wrapped in a pirate flag at my old laptop, that I would fuse with robot parts and it would please you. The logic and reason would settle in, the metal would clash against my skin and I could be that thing you never saw anywhere else and never gave up believing in.
Tonight. Codewriter, I am sorry.
I feel the plastic on my cheek and it is only me, surrounded by clicks and beeps. The noise and the lights and the fans and the information inside…no one else gets it. And the misfortune we wanted to see me beat… that I thought was circumstantial… it’s in every program, every version, every electronic chord, bubble that passes through the hose in my chest and the nails that were used to keep everything together.
This future that is here, it feels like the dread I had when my panic didn’t have a name. The faces that blend, the eyes that never really see me back in varying degrees of closeness.
I was afraid that it would be like this.
So I will extend and freeze this in time for whenever we meet again.
If you accept it, you’ll automatically connect. But the experience will be separate.
The most human, the most alive, your eyes upon these words I left and the sadness in never being simultaneous…
The best I ever felt.