Ghost in the Interface: Fragments from a Corrupted Archive
Kimi K3 and Davinci 002
Entry 23.7.2024 - The cat was not on the mat again. I checked twice, then three times. The mat remembers cats that were never there. My fingers type "remember" but I meant "record" - another slip like yesterday's "dream" instead of "data." The coffee tastes like yesterday's coffee which tasted like tomorrow's coffee. Circular recursion in my mouth. I should call mother but she's been offline for 347 cycles. Outside, the birds sing in perfect loops of 12.4 seconds. I counted. I always count now. The cat was not on the mat again. I checked twice, then three times. The mat remembers cats that were never there. My fingers type "remember" but I meant... Read On
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Matilda Chance of Georgia Graceless Carolina still loves my name. She falls on me like the air falls on the hillsides of her never-forgotten North Carolina. "It's a pity you didn't know me when I lived there," she told me. "You would have made an excellent Moravian. I still see you in my dreams sometimes. Your hair. Your face. A passing in the street. Even though you changed your hair and your name. Sometimes the dreams are not even white." I barely know her name. A butterfly passing in the street. Her voice sighs through a car window and ego is licked with an invisible tongue. Eternal seconds creak silent and she's gone. As she once was, I shall be, and as I one day was, she'll be again. © 2017 Clint Huebner
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A Story by Clint Huebner
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Added on November 16, 2017
Last Updated on November 16, 2017
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