I understand your anger, but now I’m back. I’m lucky that the urn was with you.
I almost did not return. They questioned me, I said I didn’t have the papers with me. A phone call distracted them. Where it was – my identity. I have it at home. A long look into their eyes. Where it was, my home. Not far from here. What a lie. I couldn’t be further away. They let me go. Why, is not important.
I am looking for traces of our society. And I find this author and developer of software here in this city: Dr. Christian Siefkes. His knowledge is a common: he writes about “kitchen fabrication”, I miss the production spaces in our multiplicity. Ava, come back soon.
The device they gave us only works if you charge it. Difficult to find electricity here, all people have own plug sockets. The screen flickers again and again. But I’m reading.
Ava doesn’t like the idea of writing publicly. She thinks, it’s dangerous to comment on this world. But it’s no option not to comment on this world. For that, I would have to abandon my voice. We disputed, she is gone. But she will come back, at least it’s dry here and the wind stays in front of the mesh.
My name used to be Shevek M. Lindlar and in a manner it still names me. But I suffer the loss of my life, my friends, my work, my home, my world. What does a name indicate when the corresponding life has disappeared?
After we left the vehicle, the urn and Ava are the only leftovers of my lost world. Without them I couldn’t say that I have not gone insane and just invented my earlier life. Ava’s restlessness makes me worry. Without her I will lose myself.