big:small::problems:starts

     “I feel like I can’t talk to people.

Like I forget how.

I feel like I can't talk to you. Like you don't want me to.

     “Like you don’t want me

     “Too.”

     This is written in permanent marker on the bathroom wall in the bar.

     Some band is warming up on stage, in the main room.

     I run into Andy, earlier. When I first come in. His lanky frame looks bigger, more developed. Andy has grown noticeably. He might be turning into the incredible Hulk, very slowly.

     He talks about the world.  Events.  News.  

The band still sets up.  Filler music plays over the monitors.

     “They say they'll soon have these chips. You can put it in you and it’ll act as an ATM card. Allow you to make purchases. As a cellphone, even. As your car key. You house key.  GPS.  All of it.  And that's where I want to be.  A total technological utopia.”

     “Maybe it’s nanobots,” he yells over the building house speakers now.

     “And I think that I'll never want to be shackled like that.”

     “Where’s the dependence,” I ask.  “You’re totally ingrained in the system.”

     “Where is the down side?” he asks.

     “The down side is,” Kathy says. “The nefarious nature of whoever holds the keys.” 

     Kathy and this other girl, Jane, are with Andy when I arrive. I wonder if he's dating one of them.

     “I just don't like the visibility,” I tell them.

     “It's the future, dude,” Andy says.  “Don’t be such a Luddite.”

     The singer, Duke, checks the microphone.

     Later, he announces to the audience, “We are all the story tellers and dream shapers.”

     They play “Fibonacci's Lament.”

     The moment surges into music. Faint keyboards first. Then drums and bass. The guitar withholds for nineteen bars. The time signature subtlety changes when it enters. The melody a dark groove. Surges of intensity. Lyrics come. In sync with the rhythm.

     “Merrily we row along

     life is what it seems

     not the dream

you make

     We can't

awaken

     from this nightmare.

     Why can't I just awaken from

     the nightmare.                       

Nightmare.”                   

     The music makes my head spin.  The room should spin but there are too many people.  I spin, instead.   Sin, instead.

     Grab the bar for balance.  Steady yourself.

     It's just a little tremor.  You’re fine.

     I'm fine.

We're all fine.

     The bartender flirts with me.   She's some girl from school.  She looks for a tip.