The afternoon gets late, the sky gets pink and reflects strangely on the stainless steel around the access control unit’s speaker and keypad, mixing into a dull mauve. The speaker starts to pull from everywhere at once. It has to be connected to the internet, I can’t think of any other way this is possible.
It plays music in several genres, lots of static, sounds of cars starting and whales bellowing in the ocean, a chainsaw, a jackhammer, a rotary telephone, applause and laugh tracks, computerized voices reciting bible verses. Then it goes on to say “the usage of videotape on sitcoms are found to make a range of other more: true, hidesig:true, of those who syndicated in two dozen countries traditions of separating or masking a portion of the show (79,000 lb.) ran from a different period, so that they do not have an identity card system to aid identification, two dozen countries with growing markets for cell phones can be inserted into many types of surveillance.”
Lately I’ve been thinking more and more about how difficult it would be to ever exhibit the Wishing Well. We'd never have enough money to rent the space out legitimately, and whoever owned the property would definitely be suspicious about renting any of it out to people as young as us. Trying to exhibit it secretly is just asking to get caught, and now there’s this. I cannot explain what I am hearing.
The back doors to the abandoned section of the business park, there’s four of them, and they all have keypads where visitors would have to punch in an access code. This is the only one that does this, that takes information from somewhere, its own unknowable recesses or the internet or the ether, and composes monologues from it. There’s a guy Miri and I talk to online sometimes, Sidney, who is into exploring abandoned places like we are, only he’s much older and works at some kind of tech firm. He might be able to understand it. I take my sharpie and write on the wall under the keypad, “am I alone in my perplexity?”
“The animal known for breaching the world, humpback whale (Megaptera novaeangliae) is a specialist in artistic media, FOUR (it changes to a much deeper voice when it recites this number) but not in today’s sitcoms. A species of them linked to the 21st century, through the advent of their fat reserves. Their diet consists mostly of krill and preventing or investigating criminal activities, such as CCTV cameras. Today, sitcom is a genre of feeding methods, including glitch art, Renaissance society, and delicate highlights added in governments now possessing 11:true 12:true 13:true 14:true 15:true 100:true.”
I start to feel deeply uneasy as it goes on. “Vaporwave was the first book of Psalms (Hebrew meaning "Praises"), common style, in a mass surveillance (/sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /s?rv?ve?./ or /s?rv?ve?./ or /sƏr'veI.vƏ?./ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/ or /sƏr'veI.Əns/)”
