Dixon Tower by Robin James Short Story: Extreme Experimental Fiction
Right now the long distances of interspace travel to escape from a poisoned earth to a new planet that might be suitable to support human life would take several hundred years to arrive at the destination. What might actually arrive after such a journey?
I have arranged the cassette collection so that if you tap one it will send a ripple through the whole line, you can watch the ripple move along and be transferred to the whole series. Right now David Bowie is visiting and I show him this phenomenon, he is amused. I wonder what it is like to be David Bowie, he seems like a mysterious hero. I do not know how to ask him and I know it would be awkward, so I just joke with him, he relaxes and we laugh.
Its dawn now and my new friend has purchased a cassette for me, she is taking me to a bus stop, there is a greyhound bus parked in the city. We are in New York City and it is early morning. One of the men she is talking to has a new morning face, he looks like he has been up all night with his rheumy eyes. I think he is also a policeman, but he is one of the men at the informal bus stop where my new friend is speaking to the group of friendly men in Spanish, I do not speak Spanish and it is not her native language. I think she begins by apologizing to them for her language skills, they laugh and assure her that they understand what she is saying. She is telling them something and they understand, they sadly look away from me, and seem to assure her that her plan will work just fine. I ask what is going on and she says “You are going to Seattle” and I take the cassette she purchased for me out of the wrapper, once removed you can see its all broken up and useless, the little booklet is fine, the jewel box is somewhat cracked but the cassette itself has been badly damaged and would never play. That is okay, as I do not have a way to play it anyway, I can read the booklet and see the ribbon of audio tape sparkle rainbows.
Nobody seems to care, that is not the purpose of the cassette, they look sadly away. The morning is beautiful, even in New York City. The park where the bus is resting is bathed in new morning light. The new friend of mine has thanked them and now she is on her way, looking away from me sadly while she wishes me a good voyage.
The men are friendly but we speak different languages. The trip to Seattle will begin soon. The light in the park is beautiful and the June leaves all give a pleasant shadow. The cassette is not going to play but the point is not to play the cassette, it is to have something to handle while the time goes by. The bus will be loading soon and I wait. I probably should be concerned about going somewhere by myself, but I feel strangely relaxed and surrendered to the only option I have, which is to go along with my friend’s plan.