audio || o1
[The audio engages with a long silence, just a burst of static. Eventually--quietly, very quietly, a voice:]
You're not here, are you.
[A brief pause; a quiet laugh. Then the voice gets a bit louder, addressing a whole:]
A carpet is a telling piece of history. Looking at the floor, you consider the feet that have crossed it, the shoes that have smudged it, the dirt that has marred it. How many residents reside in this city? How many new arrivals have walked the floor that I am standing on? Something is always left behind. A footprint. A stray hair. A scent, perhaps--or nothing more than the lingering impression of a well-known presence.
A good dog knows how to track, based on these leavings. But when the prey is not present, what does the good dog track? And the prey is gone. Or never was, here.
Haa, I am not making sense, am I? Never mind, it isn't important. Just a meditation on the brevity of life. And life here is interesting to all of you, isn't it? The daily grind, the long shuffle off the mortal coil. From one prison to the next; the frying pan, to the fire. A slew of colloquialisms. Hmm, and a strong sense of irony, above all else.
[Private to Noki // fairly easy to hack]]
[A pause before he speaks. This is inevitable. And, maybe just the hint of a sigh.]
Noki.
You're not here, are you.
[A brief pause; a quiet laugh. Then the voice gets a bit louder, addressing a whole:]
A carpet is a telling piece of history. Looking at the floor, you consider the feet that have crossed it, the shoes that have smudged it, the dirt that has marred it. How many residents reside in this city? How many new arrivals have walked the floor that I am standing on? Something is always left behind. A footprint. A stray hair. A scent, perhaps--or nothing more than the lingering impression of a well-known presence.
A good dog knows how to track, based on these leavings. But when the prey is not present, what does the good dog track? And the prey is gone. Or never was, here.
Haa, I am not making sense, am I? Never mind, it isn't important. Just a meditation on the brevity of life. And life here is interesting to all of you, isn't it? The daily grind, the long shuffle off the mortal coil. From one prison to the next; the frying pan, to the fire. A slew of colloquialisms. Hmm, and a strong sense of irony, above all else.
[Private to Noki // fairly easy to hack]]
[A pause before he speaks. This is inevitable. And, maybe just the hint of a sigh.]
Noki.