Fred Olsson 2012
her of something. A memory so pale, it was almost out of reach. But now, in her dying breath, she found the frequency and tuned in. And although she knew, it made her guess; I, dead? Not yet, but soon perhaps? What of it? Plunged into visions of the impossible and ideas of the grand, her focus was slipping. But in the midst of it all, chaos and order colliding in spacetime, her day unfolded like a dream.
Hubert, please remember me to call my mother later. She died last year and have not heard from me since! The words slipped out as a stabbing ray of light made her realise that phoning the dead was not of this reality. It had been a pleasant night, full of tossing and turning and ruling and dying. But by the laws we obey, she now needed outward projections. As she booted up, the morning routine commenced. Obligatory lavatory, intake of new nutrition, brushing of teeth…
With agile eyes and spiked ears she observes everything, her kin, their creations, thoughts and behaviors . It is futile. The attention span of your senses are too limited in this reality she concluded. I need more! Perhaps a new sense? What would it be? Her pondering came to an abrupt halt when the automated voice exclaimed her stop with an electrical snarkiness.
Strolling through the park she saw a very odd-looking creature. She was at first grasping after a mythological term to describe it, but quickly gave every attempt at description up as the creature started to change, right then and there, before her eyes. At first she was frightened, but the creature seemed gentle. As she looked upon it in disbelief, it patiently waited. Changing. She opened her mouth to say something, what it was will never be known, because silence had interfered. There was no voice.
And the creature began to respond to the absent question, opening its mouth and forming an object as he did. No voice, just change. And the object absorbed everything.
Hugo! She exclaimed. Where am I? And a tone started vibrating on very low-frequency, that reminded