Thursday, January 26, 2012

Mail Call

I had a friend once, back in high school. He was... what you might call "enthusiastic" about ideas. Had all sorts of them. Green energy, shadow governments, time travel. They were always interesting, so I'd listen to them.

Anyways, one of his explanations (may it live forever in infamy) about conspiracy theories had to do with the scale of events, and the effect that people observing them had. 9/11, the assassination of J.F.K, the Moon Landing conspiracy nuts.

The idea he had was that having so much attention, the attention of hundreds of thousands of thinking minds focused on a single moment affected reality somehow. Warped it and stretched it for the briefest of moments, and opened up a window where anything could happen. Quite literally a "perfect" moment in time. He called it "causally free". After it opens, it snaps shut again, and things sort of, reorient themselves around that. Like a linchpin, the rest of the event constructs itself around that perfect moment. And that created ripples so things like birthdays and middle names and places and even license plates started to line up in weird, funny, creepy co-incidental sorts of ways, both before and after the actual moment. Little echoes

So what did it mean when this started happening?

"You run for cover." His words exactly. Run for cover. "Because it's not really an echo. Not exactly."
"It's an air raid siren. And something is about to go off."

Well, I'm starting to get the feeling he might have been right.

You see, I found a package waiting for me on my doorstep when I came home this evening. Which, I know isn't exactly strange, things like that happen all the time. No, the strange part is who sent it. Which is to say, "me." My name was listed as the sender.
The return address was that house that burnt down.
Is someone playing a trick on me? Because I am not in the fucking mood.

1 comment:

  1. If you insist on continuing to ignore the obvious Mr. Smith then I wish you the best of luck.
    You know how to reach me.