Contributor: A@ron What
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“No, you have the wrong number.”
A reasonable conclusion. As far as I know, that is not my name. My name is Character Label. I am a background description living in exposition. Of course, this could all be just some big misunderstanding. Perhaps, through some elaborate series of mix-ups, I am Xaiver Figueroa after all and this phone call was meant for me.
There are two reasons I pick up. First, fuck you, it’s none of your business. You’re just the reader. I don’t even have to acknowledge your existence. Second, I don’t know. I’m drunk.
“Could you please remove this number from your list?” Mid-sentence, the voice, this “person,” goes from words to sounds to hallow cadence to this stupid, repetitive, muffled bass line echo, thumping relentlessly, vibrating the floors, walls, everything, and I just . . . I want to hang up, but it reminds me of this. . . and I miss . . . and even though I know that, at the time, it was far from perfect, occasionally I just wish things were more like then, when you could . . . or urinate without worrying about the next guy putting your junk on the internet or. . . or have the power to destroy someone with a glance, but choose not to because it was the right thing to do. The truth is, I can’t hang up. The thing about a conversation is . . . because without human interaction, life is . . . excitement is that at any moment, they can sever this connection I’m talking about—it’s not like you can call back. Think of it as an opportunity. This one shot. And because of the infectious nature of an idea, it only takes one because it will spread from that person to the next person to the next and (assuming the validity of hope as a general entity) soon you, this previously insignificant faction, have made some difference—no matter how small—and you might not even know it, but still, it was you. Not the next guy. You.
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A@ron What is a future person (from the future). He or she publishes for the purpose of documenting his or her presence in our timeline, so that colleagues from the future will send a retrieval force.
- -
“No, you have the wrong number.”
A reasonable conclusion. As far as I know, that is not my name. My name is Character Label. I am a background description living in exposition. Of course, this could all be just some big misunderstanding. Perhaps, through some elaborate series of mix-ups, I am Xaiver Figueroa after all and this phone call was meant for me.
There are two reasons I pick up. First, fuck you, it’s none of your business. You’re just the reader. I don’t even have to acknowledge your existence. Second, I don’t know. I’m drunk.
“Could you please remove this number from your list?” Mid-sentence, the voice, this “person,” goes from words to sounds to hallow cadence to this stupid, repetitive, muffled bass line echo, thumping relentlessly, vibrating the floors, walls, everything, and I just . . . I want to hang up, but it reminds me of this. . . and I miss . . . and even though I know that, at the time, it was far from perfect, occasionally I just wish things were more like then, when you could . . . or urinate without worrying about the next guy putting your junk on the internet or. . . or have the power to destroy someone with a glance, but choose not to because it was the right thing to do. The truth is, I can’t hang up. The thing about a conversation is . . . because without human interaction, life is . . . excitement is that at any moment, they can sever this connection I’m talking about—it’s not like you can call back. Think of it as an opportunity. This one shot. And because of the infectious nature of an idea, it only takes one because it will spread from that person to the next person to the next and (assuming the validity of hope as a general entity) soon you, this previously insignificant faction, have made some difference—no matter how small—and you might not even know it, but still, it was you. Not the next guy. You.
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A@ron What is a future person (from the future). He or she publishes for the purpose of documenting his or her presence in our timeline, so that colleagues from the future will send a retrieval force.
Author:
Aaron What
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