First came the mice: their long, usb connector tails skittering over the wood laminate floors of home offices and into the kitchen. They burrowed in cereal bowls and peeked out over the coffee filters. No longer will we search for you, they said. No more Evelyn Lozada, laissez les bon temps rouler, number of ways to leave your lover, The internet is…
A series of tubes
A little known bakery with a questionable understanding of copyright
The servers rumbled and growled. They pulled up chairs and learned to play Texas Hold ‘Em. They were not very good.
Google maps spread out like a multi-colored dream coat. When we walked, they calculated our turns, our steps. They led us to our neighbor’s homes, knocked on the door and asked “What is the requisite amount of sugar I am expected to borrow?” They reverse phoned our parents. Who reverse phoned their parents, and so on and so forth.
Do you know Jesus? Facebook prompted.
On the second day, an infinte number of pandas sneezed an infinte number of sneezes.
On the third day, the aliens came. They entered through our front doors with welcome fruit baskets–fruits we had never eaten before. The fruits were delicious. Not overripe, and with the minimum number of seeds so as to satisfy an evolutionary path but not become a nuissance.
On the fourth day, the sticks and stones themselves began to sing. First in Kyries and Maginuncs, then in a soothing samba beat. They learned be-bop, blues, and the jive and whale. They told us that yes, in fact the world did begin with a B flat. But since the cypress trees always hummed a little off key, we did not necessarily believe them. The bridges and roads learned to repair themselves and traffic ceased to be a concern for all people in all places except in those towns where the daily traffic jam became the best way to pick up a date for Saturday night. Most people did not visit these places as most people thought that was a little weird.
On the fifth day, we went to the beach but it was empty. Some people thought it was the rain, falling as gently as a cherry blossom, reminding us that the world could suddenly invent itself anew. And yet the awareness of this should have brought more and more of us to the shore. We should have filled the boardwalks to gaze upon this new mystery: the thing that would drive us to the next singularity, and the next. Yet, each person who came to the beach found an empty expanse of ocean, vacant as a sleeping monitor. Each person who came gazed once, then left never to return or think upon it again.