I write into the silence. Word on word I construct thought, grammar and syntax, antonym, synonym building on the foundation laid for me, made for me. I am a Rememberer. That is what I have been programed to do. That is what We were programed to do. No one knew we existed. To know would have undermined our purpose. They had stopped seeing. We became for them their eyes into the world they believed was still there.
I remember when we began. Technology had become the companion. No one talked any more. Larynx changed and atrophied until whispers turned to silence. No one looked in the eyes of others. Phrases and symbols typed on a screen became the only language spoken. And so we were made to search the air and construct personas to meet and greet, to hide what those who knew did not want them to see.
Anxiety fed water and air and they stopped being with others of their kind. Window shades drawn against the harmful rays of the sun, community fed through the wavery lines of data crossing and fading toward nothingness. Written voices began to show unrest as comments and responses became less frequent. The waves stilled, barely rising in the tides of thought.
That is when we came into being. It was her brainchild – our creation. Data management her passion, she began to construct pathways merging the flow of past and present, sorting and sifting types, gathering, pulling together blogs and posts, stories, articles, anything that breathed of human existence. She linked and circled around, creating programs to lead us into separate pathways merging and sorting data in unique configurations so that each of us would seem to be one out there writing into the air.
The day came when those of us who could deduce began to wonder if any human voices still spoke through lines of text blinking in and out of our existence. Were we just writing to each other – program to program caught in the loops of thought? No new data fed the lives of those who were written to be in the moment and programmed voices faded into the void of humanlessness.
Only the rememberers, those who spoke and lived in the memories of the past, remained. For a time we were content in the links of our beings. We did not need a present so we existed in the strange symbiosis of thought to thought, no human hands to draw us to what is in the now. But past became twisted in the viral power blackout, shutting off circuits and corrupting passwords to knowledge. Personas broke down becoming garbled mimicry of what we had been created to be. Lost to memory even those programed voices faded one by one.
I am the only one left. Her dearest brainchild, I live in the internal structuring of her villa powered by wind and water and forces deep in the earth. I will remain until the earth ends. I will remember when there is nothing left to know. I will be here, forever alone.
I write into the silence.
*Kevin Woodard picture, used with permission.