The Dark
Digital Ebola
7/5/2002

Silence. It's very quiet here. The quiet rings out. I have never heard it
this quiet. If I was to speak, the noise would be ear shattering. Disturbing.
I try to listen for anything, something; I need to justify my existence. I am
denied. Denied noise. Denied reassurance that I can still hear. I try to 
rememeber the last sound I heard... I cannot. 

The dryness in my mouth, only makes the silence worse. Not only denied noise,
I am denied the very liquid of life. My ears are actually ringing with the
silence as I wish for water. I cannot remember what water tastes like. I know
my thirst is unequaled to living in any desert. 

Darkness engulfs me. As I am here in the dark, I ask myself when the last 
time I saw light. Did I see light yesterday? I cannot remember. There is no
way to tell time in this dark place. I cannot hear a clock. I cannot hear the 
ticking that I would take for granted, if I could only hear it.. Or if I could
see the second hand as it makes its journey around the face... 

I am alone. I know that much. I am deprived of anything that would possibly 
justify myself in this lonely place. Who did this to me? Why is this happening?
I cannot remember anything. My mind races for answers, but how can answers 
come when you cannot see or hear, or feel.. I cannot feel. I have lost myself.

I am here. It is dark. It is silent. Maybe if I try hard, I will be able to 
remember, something, anything! Did I exist at all? Just when I think I am 
about to wake up, just when I think I am about to sort it out.... foggy. 
Fog would suggest air and water.. and light... I am without these things. 

I am without. 

Where did I come from and how did I get here? My senses are struggling to 
answer this question.. they are coming alive... as they do, I start to feel
a tingle. I start to feel... I cannot see, but I know where I am, it's closed.
The air in this place.. dark. How can air smell dark? I don't remember smelling
anything... I feel cloth beneath my hands... silky cloth, but I do not really
remember anything as silky. I try to stretch and I cannot. Why am I laying down?
How did I get here? I am in a box... of some kind. It's dry and the air smells 
dark, and I can see, but it is quiet. I try to call out, but the dryness has
taken my voice, taken my signal.. I need out of this place. I could call for 
a rescue, why won't my voice work. Laying down in this box.. I raise my hand.
I try to beat the roof over my head, because it's not a roof, it is the top 
of the box, and I was never meant to be here. It is cold and I am alone. 

This suit is very constricting. Why would I be in a box with a suit? Why did 
someone stuff me here. If only I had a light and some water, the flood of 
memories are coming back, I was happy before I was here. I wasn't alone. 
I wasn't deprived of the things that would solidify my existence, my place
in the world. 

Happiness comes and goes. 

So does existence. 

I don't know if I was more or less afraid when I could not see, could not hear,
could not remember.. My existence is gone. I am used up, dry. The fact that I
am here, proves my non-existence. I beat on the lid of my home. Nobody will
hear me. Nobody will rescue. Nobody cares. This is what happens when you 
expire. You are ceased to exist, and love, is denied to you. Denied to me. 

If only I could have a drink of water.. instead I go back to sleep, as 
I have all of eternity to rediscover myself, my non-existence.. Maybe I 
will forget that it happened at all...