Debris
I have a fluctuating ability to become invisible; not invisible as though I could photograph myself and I wouldn't appear, but in the sense that people who know me well can walk within a few feet of me without ever realizing that I'm there. Perceptive people. People who can't eat a meal on campus without stopping to talk to everyone they know. People who relish the opportunity to leap onto me.
It's not merely that I stand in the shadows, or that their opportunity to notice me was too brief. It happens even when people are walking directly toward me for hundreds of feet.
I've tested the degree of control I have over this ability: three months into a 5-day-a-week class, with 22 students packed into six columns and four rows of desks, the professor going systematically up and down the rows with his questions, jumped from the person behind me to the person in front of me. I had counted out the questions, and realized that I was to be asked one for which I had no answer. Rather than using my confirmable abilities to figure out the answer, I concentrated on becoming invisible. And it worked. I have no other postive confirmations of this ability.
I have a strange relationship with signal-recieving electronic devices. In High School, my "atomic clock" (which recieves a signal from the National Atomic Clock in Texas) gave me a series of strange omens. At around 11:45 PM, in March of 2002, it displayed the date "7/18". I marked my calendar accordingly, and around 11:45 PM on July 18th, it displayed the date "10/26".
I, of course, being the fractured soul that I was in High School, took this to mean that something big was going to happen on October 26th; my leading suspicion was that either I or the entire world was in mortal peril.
Then, on October 26th, around 11:45 PM, it displayed "d.34". That was, as they say, where I got off. If I had been less in-tune with reality, I might have sought some sort of psychotic interpretation of the mysterious letter and numerals, but even I wasn't crazy enough for that.
The other device which gives me pause is my cell phone. All last year, my cell phone would occasionally display phantom calls; a number would appear in my recieved or dialed calls list that I had neither recieved nor dialed. I made a point of confirming these phantoms by calling those who I had apparently been in contact with to make sure that no contact had actually been made. The most frequent phantom was a friend from Junior High, Noah, who I had all but abandoned by the end of High School. It was, of course, awkward when I called him up, after years of only minimal communication, to ask if he'd called me or if I'd called him. He said "no" every time, and the conversation was over.
A less frequent, yet repeated phantom is the little brother of my friend, Muriel. Upon upgrading my phone this Summer, the phantom Noah disappeared and was replaced by Muriel's little brother. He, too, awkwardly confirmed that our phones had not actually connected. I think these people must think I'm nuts.
Today's phantom was a new one, and by far the strangest. My phone was on silent at the time it occurred, but I so wish it hadn't been. The phantoms occur silently, showing up without ringing, but part of me wonders if this one would have rung.
I keep my own cell phone number stored in my phone, an artifact from a time when I couldn't remember it, under the name "Me". You can imagine my surprise when I saw I had a missed call from "Me". What's even stranger is that the number listed has a digit wrong; area code "504" instead of "404". I checked, and the listing is correct in my phonebook. So...well, that's odd, isn't it?
I don't know if other people's lives are haunted by technological spectres, but I believe I am a minority in my experiences. In searching for an explanation, I look to my ancestry. My mother's father was a farmer, a man of few words and simple means. And every watch he ever wore stopped dead within a few days.
I don't know if there's a connection, or even a rational explanation for these strange happenings, but I like to believe that there's something extraordinary going on.
-Alfonzo
It's not merely that I stand in the shadows, or that their opportunity to notice me was too brief. It happens even when people are walking directly toward me for hundreds of feet.
I've tested the degree of control I have over this ability: three months into a 5-day-a-week class, with 22 students packed into six columns and four rows of desks, the professor going systematically up and down the rows with his questions, jumped from the person behind me to the person in front of me. I had counted out the questions, and realized that I was to be asked one for which I had no answer. Rather than using my confirmable abilities to figure out the answer, I concentrated on becoming invisible. And it worked. I have no other postive confirmations of this ability.
I have a strange relationship with signal-recieving electronic devices. In High School, my "atomic clock" (which recieves a signal from the National Atomic Clock in Texas) gave me a series of strange omens. At around 11:45 PM, in March of 2002, it displayed the date "7/18". I marked my calendar accordingly, and around 11:45 PM on July 18th, it displayed the date "10/26".
I, of course, being the fractured soul that I was in High School, took this to mean that something big was going to happen on October 26th; my leading suspicion was that either I or the entire world was in mortal peril.
Then, on October 26th, around 11:45 PM, it displayed "d.34". That was, as they say, where I got off. If I had been less in-tune with reality, I might have sought some sort of psychotic interpretation of the mysterious letter and numerals, but even I wasn't crazy enough for that.
The other device which gives me pause is my cell phone. All last year, my cell phone would occasionally display phantom calls; a number would appear in my recieved or dialed calls list that I had neither recieved nor dialed. I made a point of confirming these phantoms by calling those who I had apparently been in contact with to make sure that no contact had actually been made. The most frequent phantom was a friend from Junior High, Noah, who I had all but abandoned by the end of High School. It was, of course, awkward when I called him up, after years of only minimal communication, to ask if he'd called me or if I'd called him. He said "no" every time, and the conversation was over.
A less frequent, yet repeated phantom is the little brother of my friend, Muriel. Upon upgrading my phone this Summer, the phantom Noah disappeared and was replaced by Muriel's little brother. He, too, awkwardly confirmed that our phones had not actually connected. I think these people must think I'm nuts.
Today's phantom was a new one, and by far the strangest. My phone was on silent at the time it occurred, but I so wish it hadn't been. The phantoms occur silently, showing up without ringing, but part of me wonders if this one would have rung.
I keep my own cell phone number stored in my phone, an artifact from a time when I couldn't remember it, under the name "Me". You can imagine my surprise when I saw I had a missed call from "Me". What's even stranger is that the number listed has a digit wrong; area code "504" instead of "404". I checked, and the listing is correct in my phonebook. So...well, that's odd, isn't it?
I don't know if other people's lives are haunted by technological spectres, but I believe I am a minority in my experiences. In searching for an explanation, I look to my ancestry. My mother's father was a farmer, a man of few words and simple means. And every watch he ever wore stopped dead within a few days.
I don't know if there's a connection, or even a rational explanation for these strange happenings, but I like to believe that there's something extraordinary going on.
-Alfonzo
posted by Alfonzo Debussy | 2:16 PM
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