You wrote I should find someone real. I translate ‘real’ into my language, it becomes /aleth-ino/, from /aletheia/, deriving from a(=non)+ lithi (=forgetfulness), the real as a negation of forgetfulness- true, I continue to remember, you.
Truth, the ancestors say, lies at the bottom of a deep well. I leaned over the well at the village, trying to see this truth. Unfathomable darkness, I could not understand at which point my depth of vision was getting lost. The well had lace-like grooves that were sculptured along its stone brim, formed from the rope that lifted the bucket with the water. These grooves looked almost as if a giant thumb had pressed the stone, and like in plasticine, curved these paths. But this cannot be true of course.
My friend got worried about me, said “you have to watch something light and funny that doesn’t make you think much, check ‘Upload’”. The storyline of this series focuses around a character, whose ‘brain data’ is uploaded after his death, so that his family and friends can communicate with him as before. They can see his image digitally reconstructed, as if they were talking to him through Skype or Zoom. This character is not alive any more, but his brain is still there, having witty conversations. “I think, therefore I exist'', it stated at some point in the series, defending all the companies that had created different apps for ‘uploads’. It is mentioned that some brains were ‘freaking out’ when reaching this digital platform after death. It all depended on their psycho structure; some uploaded brains were fleeing the app in terror. Around the third episode I felt some deep compression on my chest, although it was clearly funny at many instances, and eventually I ended up watching the whole series.
Your suggestion about the real was in a text message. Uploaded into bodiless digits, true and real voiceless letter types that I started to think if you are real, and if your mute database of ‘good mornings’ and ‘good nights’ downloaded in my phone was real too. As I was making these thoughts I started to wonder about skies, clouds, beaches, fields, mountains and lakes with you but after a while it all looked so uploaded and unreal that a sense of panic emerged bringing me back to my room. The soft phew-like notes of an Otus Scops owl reached my ear. I record and text you this flute-like contact call.