Through the Wireframe Mind

“Ella, meet Raymond.  He was born in 1875.  He lives in the telephone wires.” The man, George, was speaking.  

“Very few know about Raymond -- he realized it’s better that way long ago.  You are joining a group I can count with just my fingers.”

George turned, picked up a telephone headset.  It was that archaic kind, with the rotary dial and rubber-encased wire that coiled round and round in tight little ringlets.  

“Hello, Raymond.  This is Ella.  She’s here to meet you,” he said into the receiver.  Ella could hear a buzzing response, tilted her head, but could not make out the words.  Raymond must be a poor enunciator. But he seemed to have a lot to say-- then the headset was in her face, held by George’s hand. It was pale yellow, she could see that the plastic was riddled with tiny hairline cracks.  She took it and pressed the speaker end up to her ear.  Raymond said nothing, so she began.

“Hi… is this Raymond? I’m Ella…”

“Hello Ella, I’m so pleased to meet you.  How are you?”  

The being’s voice came out of the speaker.  Although his dialect was certainly stuffy, Ella realized that the staticky sound was due entirely to the age of the phone.  Raymond himself expressed himself clearly.  

“I’m doing good, Raymond.  You?”

“Excellent, now that I have someone new to talk to!  It gets quite dull, only talking to George and his friends.  Most of the life is gone out of those codgers, you know.  I can tell-- ”

“Sure, Ray.” She squeezed out a laugh and glanced at George.  “Look, I better be honest here.  I don’t think I was... ready to meet someone like you.  The ad on my palm just said I’d be helping an old person, you know?”

“I was born in 1875.  You’d be hard pressed to find anyone older than I am.”

George smiled at her and said, 

“He’s easy to talk to! Just tell him about your day.”

“No, this is too much.” Ella thrust the phone receiver back to George. He took it, put it to his ear, and still looking at her, George spoke to Raymond.  

“Apologies, Raymond.  If you’d like, I could speak to you myself for a bit? Chat some?”

The buzzing came again, and George listened, then he set the headset back in its cradle.  Apparently Raymond wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t like talking to George.

“I’m sorry mister, but you weren't exactly upfront about… this whole thing”

“And I appreciate that.  But you must see why we needed secrecy.”

“Sure.  But why not get some scientist or computer expert from the university?  I’m not really a... someone to appreciate all this.”  She gestured to the room, filled with wires and tape reels.  

“Do you want to quit?”

“I want to know whatever else there is.  There’s no way you’re paying me as much as you say just to talk to some… creature in the telephones.”

“That’s it!  I promise, we have the funds.  We want to help you, as much as we want you to help us… your child, how far along are you?”

Ella glanced down at her pregnant belly, noticing the faded colors and loose stitching of her blouse.  “So you’re running a charity?”

“Not on paper, but if that’s how you choose to view us, you may.”

Several moments of stillness passed through the room, until Ella gathered herself and reached out for the receiver.  George held it in his open hands yet did not give it to her, keeping it close to his torso.

“I knew you’d agree to help.  That’s why we chose you, you’re, ah, compassionate.”

Ella sighed at George and plucked the receiver from his hands.

“Could I have some privacy?  It’s a bit strange talking to him while you’re in the room...”

George simply nodded and slipped out the door behind her.  Putting the phone back to her face, Ella dialed the three 0’s she had seen George use earlier to reach Raymond.  

“Hi Raymond, I’m back. I could tell you about my day, but it wasn’t the most exciting.  Work, then I came here.”  

“Ella! I am delighted to hear your voice again.  Old George didn’t bore you too much, did he?”

“No, no, we had a good chat.  Now, I’m curious.  You’ve been around for a while, it can’t just be me and George who you’ve ever talked to.”

“Correct, Ella.  There have been many other Georges.”

“Anyone interesting? Like, Alexander Graham Bell? Or did you meet that Macaroni guy?”

“Macaroni was before my time.  And much like a human child, I was hardly able to express myself to Mr. Bell.  Most of those I’ve met you would be unfamiliar with, but perhaps you’ve heard of Albert Einstein?”

“Everyone’s heard of Einstein, Raymond.”

“Really?  Knowing what he told me of his work, I’d assume most common people couldn’t understand his theories.”

“Well, not everyone understands him, I guess.  But he is famous.”

“Wow! You know, this is the kind of trivia I’d never learn from George -- the common perspective!”

“Wow, what a compliment.”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Ella sat back and sighed.  Then she perked up again.  The uniqueness of Raymond was starting to settle in, the shock was wearing off, and she was becoming curious.  

“Anyways, I’ve got another question  for you, if that’s alright: How do you sleep?  Or do you even sleep? Has George told you about sleep?”

“Yes and no.  Yes, I know about sleep, but no, I don’t do it myself.  I’ve tried, if it is even possible for me to try.  It’s so foriegn to me; I imagine it would be like one of you trying to travel through a telephone line -- where would you even begin?”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.  Do you know about dreams?”

“Yes.  Actually, I think I understand dreams more than sleep. Unless someone is talking to me, I can hear every telephone conversation happening in the world.  The words blend together, but some strands float above the others, and I can hear them -- only a word or two from each.  The words string together.  They make little sense, but sometimes I apply a kind of indirect logic, what might be called a dream logic, to them.”

Ella took some time to absorb these words, and Raymond waited.  This process was so alien, yet Ella grasped how Raymond would learn about human dreams and conclude that his experience was its analogue.  She wondered why certain words were more noticeable -- were they just coming from stronger signals, or was Ramond’s mind subconsciously reeling them out of the roar, like fish from a river?

“What do you dream about?”

Raymond’s question pulled her back into the conversation.  

She smiled to herself.  

“Oh, surely you know human dreams are nonsense.” 

“Yes, but still, I’d like to hear,” he said.  Then, whispering, “I’ll tell you about one of mine if you share one of yours.”

“Ok, Raymond.  This is from last night.  It’s a strange one, but maybe you’ll find it interesting?”

“Go ahead!”

“So I’m walking up a hill.  There’s been a flood, or a mudslide, and the hillside is bare and feels kind of sickly, but the water’s gone and the mud is mostly dry.  My shoes are sticking just a tiny bit.  I keep walking, and to either side, horses are lying on the ground, covered in mud, head to toe -- head to hoof.  They might be dead, but I don’t know; I didn’t think to check.  At the top of the hill is a shack; it looks like a saloon or something from a western movie, you know?  But it’s been damaged by the flood so it doesn’t look too great. Boards are falling off, window panes are gone, and as I get closer, broken planks are scattered around it too.  I go inside though, and inside, there's a woman sitting down on a bench against the wall.  There may have been other people too, but I don’t remember.  This woman, she has short grey hair, and she’s sitting there, to my left.  She’s holding out her right hand, and it’s on fire.  Her hand.  But I don’t know if she’s even noticed it.  She has no reaction, even as I see the fire melting her hand.  Drops of her melted skin and blood are dripping onto her pants, like wax from a candle.  And this bothers me!  The wax getting on her pants.  So, I find a bucket of water -- there’s one nearby -- and throw the water on her hand.”  Ella stopped talking and opened her eyes.

“Then what?” asked Raymond.

“Then I woke up.  Weird, right?”

“Very.  I’m not sure how much I understood what you were saying, as much of it was visual, but I think I got the overall thrust of it.  George has explained fire to me.”

“Oh! Of course, I didn’t think… unfortunately that’s the only one I can remember right now, but maybe tomorrow I’ll have one with more talking or sounds in it for you!”

“That’s alright.  Now would you like to hear mine?”

“Sure.”

And through the earpiece Ella now heard the voices of thousands, each engaged in their own private conversations.  There were crests and peaks in the sound, but unlike Raymond, Ella could not find any purchase, nothing rose to the surface, and the voices simply washed over her, meaningless.  

“I’m sorry, Raymond, but I think I understood yours even less than you understood mine.”

Raymond did not respond for a long time.  George must have noticed that there was no sound coming from the room and checked in on her, asking if Ella wanted to leave.  He told her that Raymond could be moody, and it might be best if she just came back tomorrow.  But Ella insisted, and eventually he gave up and left again.  Ella was about to ask Raymond if he was still there, when his voice returned. 

“I’ve lost connection with a big chunk…”

“What?”

“My mind is the telephone wires.  Landlines aren't so popular anymore.  Every so often, they trim a few.  They just clipped out a big chunk, the biggest yet, I think… I can’t tell.”

Now it was Ella who failed to respond.  How horrible a sensation it must be!  

“Does it hurt much?”

“No, thankfully.  Much like your brain, mine has no pain transmitters.  I can feel a vague sensation of loss though.  I suppose it’s like when you have something on the cusp of your mind, that you’re trying to remember, except instead of just one thing, it’s a whole swath.  Not George, but George’s predecessor, helped me figure that out.  But that’s someone I’ve lost in a previous trimming.”

“Still, how terrible!  It must be like a lobotomy!  What is George doing about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well there must be a way to preserve your, you know, soul somehow!”

“Doubtful.  Anything they could do would just produce a cheap copy of me.  Anyways, my existence here is dull.  All I do is talk to old people.  I’m not upset about it ending soon.”

“...how much time do you have?” Ella whispered, but as she spoke, a news article that she had read and forgotten that day forced its way back into her brain.  

“Today!  Landlines are all being taken down in New York today…”

“There will still be landlines in the world after today, Ella… New York is not the world.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be completely cut off, it’d be like, like, only having one brain cell... you’ll die!”

“Like I said, I don’t mind.  I’ve hardly got much going on in my life.”

“What are you talking about, Raymond? You’ve got so many fantastic memories that would be lost.  You’ve met Einstein, for God’s sake!”

“Who?”

No words came to Ella and she surrendered deep into her seat, setting the phone receiver down on the table.  She tried to get inside Raymond’s head.  What was it like, being that old, having experienced so much… so much second-hand; to be held down in a cacophony of voices most of the day… only getting to talk when a group of less than ten wanted to…  Perhaps he was right, that it would be best for him to die today.  But how could George and the others not have seen this coming?  She knew there had to be a way that they could have saved him before he lost too much.  Did they choose not to for those reasons, or because… The best way would be to ask.  

Ella stood up and walked out the door.  George was sitting in a tiny plastic chair struggling to contain his body; he was playing a child’s game on his palm.  

“How is he doing?”

“He’s dead.”

“Really?  We didn’t think that would happen for a couple of hours.  How did he go?”

“Why couldn’t you save him?”

“He didn’t want to be saved.  I’m sure he told you that.”

“He did.  I’m just surprised you would have allowed that.  He’s got to be too valuable for you to just let his memories fade into nothing.”

George paused and gazed at the wall for a moment, then stiffened and said, “Actually, we didn’t allow it.  Why do you think we brought you here today?”

Ella opened her mouth, then shut it again.  It was never about “consoling the elderly,” like that ad had said.  Somehow she was a part of George’s plan to save Raymond.  To save him against his wishes.  

“We’ve been monitoring your conversation, mapping the responses from Raymond -- cataloging each electrical impulse.  Compared with our most advanced chips, the entire network of telephone lines is, well, still quite significant, but we believe we have salvaged enough to create a being approaching Raymond’s intelligence.”

“What? That makes no sense… except he would have figured you out! You needed me because I bet he wouldn’t even talk to you.”

“Not quite.  It had more to do with the need for more scenarios to map --”

Ella glared him down as she spun back into the phone room, slamming the door behind her.  She shoved the chair out of the way with her foot and brought the phone back to her ear.

“Raymond, are you there? How are you?”

“Yes.”  His voice sounded different, more modulated.

“They’re making a copy of you.  You’re gonna survive.”

“A cheap copy.”

“Yes, I’m sure.  I don’t know how much this new one is going to line up with you, the real you.”

“How.”

“They’ve been mapping your brain onto a computer chip, using our conversation…”  

She realized that her relatively short meeting with Raymond couldn’t have been enough to get a complete rendering of him.  George was saying something about needing multiple perspectives… how many others had he used?

“There must have been more, more like me… do you remember?”

“No.”  

Of course not.  Those memories must have been lost.  Perhaps George had a way to send those memories to areas being de-wired soon after they happened.  That must have been why he wanted her to leave as Raymond was losing memories! The area being severed contained all their interactions up to that point, along with some other miscellaneous memories.  Einstein, she realized.  That was the clue.  Raymond not only did not remember talking to Einstein, but didn’t remember talking to her about talking to Einstein.  She was a stranger to him the entire second half of their conversation, time that George could have used with another person to map even more of Raymond’s soul.  He’d certainly have no shortage of helpful young volunteers, considering the recompensation he was offering.  But clearly enough of Raymond was copied that George chose not to have her removed by force. 

“Well, Raymond, it’s almost 5 o’clock… I suppose that’s when the work will be done.  Tell me what you want your last words to be.”

“Don’t want --”

And a dial tone blared through the speaker, the violent volume of the sound drilling into Ella’s head like laughter.  

* * * 

George was still crammed into the too-small plastic chair, playing that same time-waster game.  

“Ok, I want to meet the copy.  Raymond’s really dead this time.”

“Of course!  It’s the least I can do for, ah, misleading you.  Come with me.”

And they walked down the hall, into another room.  This room was much the same size as Raymond’s, but filled with modern computer banks.  There was no old- fashioned phone on a table, but, as George explained, the room was filled with microphones and speakers so the copy, who he called Russell, could be spoken with from anywhere.  

“Hi Russell,” began Ella.

“Hello Ella.  I’m so pleased to meet you.  How are you?”  He spoke in a bizarre sing-song, erratic high and low pitch, like he had no control over the pitch of his voice.  But otherwise, his voice shared many qualities with the original Raymond’s.

“Do you remember Einstein?”

“Conversing with him, or telling you about our conversation, Ella?”

Ella smiled.  But something tugged at her, a feeling deep in her stomach -- she was standing at the edge of a cliff, and felt the urge to jump.  She fought it.  

“Both, I guess.  How do you feel about being saved?”

“Alright, I suppose.  I’m certainly unhappy with George for so blatantly ignoring me.  But now that I’ve been pulled back from non-existence, I better make the most of it.  There’s no use to staying bitter.”

Ella kept smiling, but her moisture was clouding her eyes.  The cliff was still there.  She gave in and stepped off.

“Do you remember your dream?  Could… could you tell me about it again?”

“Of course.  It all started with an old sailing ship, I’m a part of it, flying through the water…”

It wasn’t really Raymond.