Links from the Show at a Glance:
Artist: Sean Howard
Title of Art: Disconnected
Artist’s Website: seanhoward.ca
Instagram: @passitalong
Discover audio fiction podcasts on Sean’s network: fableandfolly.com
Sean Howard’s Levitation photographs
Art Ink Submission Guidelines: rebekahnemethy.com/artinksubs
Art Ink Podcast Transcript:
[Intro:]
Hello again, my friends! It’s been awhile since I’ve last spoken to you, and I hope you didn’t think I’d gone and pod-faded on you!
Believe it or not, I haven’t taken any breaks from this show. I’ve written at least a little bit, almost daily since the last episode came out. In my head, I was sure I was writing a short story, but it didn’t want to end, I just kept writing and writing, and watching the word count grow and grow.
One day I impulsively took a break to Google the definition of a short story, because I wasn’t so sure that this writing still fit into that category anymore. By the time I’d done the search it was already well over 10,000 words, which falls into the realm of a novelette. Anyone else out there new to this literary term? Apparently that is what you call a story that’s too long to be a short story but too short to be considered a novella.
I got excited at that point because I was sure that I was almost done, and as my creativity accountability partner Amy will attest, week after week it was my goal to finish this story. I was convinced that by the time I was done writing I’d get to introduce you to my finished novelette. Yet here I am, another 10,000+ words later, and I’m quite sure this story is destined to be a full-length novel… eventually anyway. For now, I’m calling it a novella and I’m recording it for you, because you’ve waited long enough!
Today’s artist is who I’m going to blame for all of this, Sean Howard, it’s totally all your fault for creating something that inspired me so much! I was instantly triggered when I saw your work, and it sent me down a rabbit hole that was hard for me to escape.
Sean Howard is all of the things! He’s a talented speaker, podcaster, writer, brand marketer, and he’s the co-founder of Fable and Folly, a network of kick ass audio fiction podcasts, some of which he’s acted in and produced. Which is awesome for you, my listeners, because while you’re waiting around for me to put out an episode, you could be discovering a world of new podcasts over at fableandfolly.com!
As if all that talent isn’t enough to squeeze into one human, Sean is also an amazing photographer. There’s something about his Levitation series of photographs that haunt me, in a good way, and I have to say it was not easy to select just one of these photos to write about. The saying a photo is worth a thousand words doesn’t do Sean’s art any justice… and, as I’ve already shared with you, it’s provided me with thousands and thousands of words.
When you get a second, my friends, make sure you take a look at the cover art for this episode to see the haunting photograph that Sean created. For those of you who can’t look just yet, let me attempt to paint the picture with words.
[Art Description:]
A girl in a spaghetti-strap, teal dress hugs her knees to her chest in front of a brown brick wall. She faces left, and we see a profile of her, eyes closed tight, pink and red highlighted dreadlocks pointing wildly in every direction.
Floating around the girl, surrounding her at shoulder height, are five floating devices: a tablet and several smart phones. Sean titled this piece Disconnected, and I could think of no better title for the story that his creation helped bring to life.
Enjoy…
[Story:]
Jennifer was hearing phantom ring tones. Despite the fact that she’d intentionally left her phone at home, her arm still instinctively reached out at least halfway to the empty dashboard mount before she realized there was no phone to be heard.
This was the third time she’d reached out to a non-existent phone. It was as if the fucking thing was a part of her body recently amputated.
It’s not that Jennifer didn’t want to bring her phone with her, but it’d be immediately confiscated as soon as she arrived at the center anyway, and so she’d figured it’d be better to leave it home; she didn’t want to worry about strangers invading her privacy… not that she had anything to hide.
There it was again; the distinct sound of her Instagram notification. Jennifer wondered if she was telepathically connected to the damned thing, as her arm automatically rose once again. She jerked it back toward her body, and huffed. If her other hand weren’t already occupied on the wheel she would’ve smacked herself.
Wouldn’t that be ironic, thought Jennifer, if I caused another accident distracted by a phantom phone? At least this time there’d be no evidence to incriminate her. She winced as the memory flashed through her mind, placed both hands firmly on the wheel, and squeezed until her knuckles were white and her concentration was on the road.
She panicked a bit when she saw the sign for exit 34; had she passed her exit?!
She glanced down at her odometer and sighed with relief as she remembered that A: she still had 30 miles to go and B: the exit numbers were counting down, not up.
Jennifer had known that driving to an unknown area without a GPS to guide her would be a challenge, but she’d done it as a teenager, back in the MapQuest days, when she’d had to print out directions on paper. Directions that didn’t magically rearrange themselves if she drove off course, she reminded herself, and then winced as horns blared in her memory. She remembered crossing three lanes of traffic in order to avoid missing an exit on her road trip to Maryland more than a decade ago. Jennifer sighed and reminded herself to be careful and alert.
The absolute worst part of this trip, however, was the silence. Usually she had an audiobook or podcast running when she drove. Occasionally she’d put upbeat music on when she was feeling down; by the time she finished belting out a couple of songs, she always felt much better. Jennifer was sure she’d be giving herself some music therapy by now… she’d tried the radio, but there was nothing to sing along to, the crackling quality was lacking, and there were more commercials than songs.
Jennifer’s circular thoughts filled the silence instead: she was broke, she was now jobless, she’d just maxed out her credit cards on this mandatory detox, and she couldn’t start fixing any of those problems until a month from now. A month from now!!!
It wasn’t like she was addicted to heroin… no one would have to hold her dreads while she puked her way back to sobriety for fuck’s sake.
The Insta notification chimed in her mind again, and Jennifer was reaching out before she could stop herself. She sighed loudly, put her hand back on the wheel, and rolled her eyes at the fact that some unknown force was calling her bluff. Maybe I am addicted to my phone, she thought.
Still, that didn’t justify the $6,000 it cost to go through this program. $6,000 down the drain… down the future drain, Jennifer corrected herself, sighing.
Jennifer felt pretty proud when she pulled into the parking lot a couple of hours later. She hadn’t gotten lost at all. Though it’s hard to get lost when you’re in the middle of nowhere and the turn offs are sparse.
The place was huge, and very modern looking; quite the opposite of what Jennifer had imagined it would be. The entire front of the building was covered in mirrored glass. In its center rose a pyramid shaped peak that stretched well above the rest of the structure; this was covered in the only glass that wasn’t mirrored. It looked more like a shortened, more angular version of a NYC office building than a rehab center. But what did a digital detox building typically look like? Jennifer knew of no others to compare it to.
Stepping inside was like putting sunglasses on, it dimmed the outside sunshine, but not enough to make you feel like you were indoors. Faint, lyricless, music played in the background, along with what sounded like a babbling brook. Jennifer noticed a waterfall that was built into one of the walls to her left. Floor cushions that looked like low love seats and couches were scattered across the floor in front of it.
Aside from the glass, everything seemed to be made out of natural elements. The floor was made of some kind of polished stone, with glimmers of an almost holographic iridescence where the light caught it. Sculpture creatures made of dried out driftwood and metal were scattered about the lobby. A crane with it’s wings spread and a fish in its mouth here, a puppy posed in a play bow over there, and what looked like a koala bear climbing a bamboo stalk in one corner.
“Welcome,” said a voice from the wall opposite the waterfall. Jennifer turned to it.
“Hi, I’m a bit early- I was afraid I’d get lost without the GPS on my phone.”
“Oh that’s no problem, let’s get you settled into your room.”
Even though Jennifer had told her she’d left her phone at home, the girl asked to go through her bags, which felt a bit demeaning. But apparently, many guests tried to sneak in digital contraband: tablets, iPods, old smartphones people claimed were no longer connected and thought should be allowed. The website had been clear about what was and wasn’t allowed – basically anything with a screen was banned.
Satisfied that Jennifer hadn’t hidden an iPod in her underwear, the girl moved on. She handed her a thick information packet, told her that orientation would be at 6 in the Oak Room, and walked her to her room.
With four hours to kill before orientation, Jennifer dropped to the bed and started leafing through the papers. She grew bored about halfway through the second page and studied the room around her. $6,000 and there wasn’t even a TV in her room. How was she going to make it through a month without Netflix?
Jennifer glanced at the clock on her nightstand, saw that only 5 minutes had passed since she’d stepped into the room, let out a lengthy sigh, and threw herself face down into a pile of pillows.
What was she going to do for the next 3 hours and 55 minutes? The panic started to tighten her throat; what if there was an emergency and she needed to call a friend? Then she started to breathe deeply as she remembered that she’d been through this scenario before and had planned accordingly.
She opened her suitcase to find all of her solutions. On top of everything was a practically blank notebook, the first page filled with her go to contacts and their numbers… when was the last time she’d manually dialed a number?
One side of Jennifer’s suitcase was stuffed with clothing and toiletries, and the other half was packed with a pile of books and art supplies. Jennifer was a doer; doing nothing was the ultimate depressant for her – and so, in a way, her suitcase was filled with anti-depressants.
Jennifer pushed her art journal and pencils aside to reveal a pile of novels. She grabbed a Carol Goodman book, The Lake of Dead Languages, and settled into the love seat to read… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat down to read a physical book. She “read” books all the time, but audiobooks were her medium of choice – that way she could multitask, “reading” while she walked, cleaned, cooked, and even while she was doodling sometimes. When she was caught up with everything else.
It’d been at least a decade since she’d given her total and complete attention to a book. Pinching the thickness of the pages in both hands, Jennifer had a nostalgic sense of beginnings; just the sliver of the paperback cover and the first few pages pinched between her fingers… the excitement of so many pages ahead. She remembered that giddiness every time she’d gotten a new Goosebumps book as a child.
Jennifer got lost in the book… until a loud knock startled her back into reality.
The girl who’d checked her in was standing at the door with a serene smile. “They’re waiting for you downstairs,” she said, and on a quick glance over her shoulder, Jennifer saw that it was 6:15.
As she approached the Oak Room door it didn’t take her long to figure out the origin of it’s name. Through the massive, triangular-shaped glass wall that stretched up at least four stories was the leafy top of a giant oak tree awash in golden light. The tree had to be at least 100 years old, judging from the thick trunk. Walking into the large room was like stepping outside. There was even grass on the floor… er… ground.
Though the base of the pyramid shaped room was as big as a high school gym, for some reason all of the chairs and their mostly silent occupants were all squished together in the center of the room… aaaannnd it didn’t look like there were any empty seats left.
Jennifer stopped behind the last row of chairs and mouthed the word “sorry” to the woman facing the group, before she bared her teeth, raised her eyebrows, and winced. She crossed her legs and stood with her hands clasped in the front pocket of her hoodie, avoiding eye contact with several people who glanced back at her.
“Oh good, I didn’t want to start until everyone had arrived,” said the woman in a sickly happy high-pitched tone. She wore a form fitting teal tank top and black leggings on her petite frame, and her blonde hair was twisted into a high 2-tier bun. She waved her hand rapidly saying, “there’s an empty seat up here,” and then she pointed to the front row.
Ugh, that’ll teach me to be late, Jennifer thought as she sped to get out of the spotlight, but once she was sitting down, she was grateful to have the chair. No one likes being the odd one out.
The gratitude only lasted a minute though, because although the tiny teenage girl to her left had unnecessarily scooted over when Jennifer sat down, the man on her right hadn’t budged his man spread knee until she’d wedged her own leg between his and the seat. Even then, he’d only moved an inch, keeping his knee hovering over her personal chair space.
The girl crossed her closest leg over the other, covering the rip in her jeans with a manicured hand. The black nail polish was in stark contrast to her pale skin, and the fine sprinkling of silver glitter in it did little to lessen it.
Jennifer scooted over a bit towards her, but was unable to escape the manspreader’s hovering knee.
“Ok, welcome, for those of you who don’t know,” she looked at Jennifer, “I’m Chris, and this is orientation, but it will also double as our first meditation session, so don’t anyone disappear.” she laughed at herself.
You’d actually have to disappear to escape this room without notice, Jennifer thought, as it was at least a 30-foot trek back to the door. Jennifer hadn’t seen another exit, but she hadn’t had enough time to gawk yet. She wanted to ogle the sunset lit view out the full glass wall she’d only had a chance to glance at upon entry, or up at the strange pyramid peaked ceiling, but there’d be no unrude way to look around this close to Chris… stupid front row seat. Another reason Jennifer liked to arrive to things like this early.
“I know that some of you are here of your own free will, but most of you have been given a court order for one reason or another, and to you I say don’t underestimate the power of your addiction. Yes, you are here to be rehabilitated… digital habits are just as toxic as chemical addictions. And for that reason we take our jobs here very seriously…”
Jennifer tuned Chris out as she squeaked on about rules and consequences… and then suddenly everyone was getting up and moving their chairs. She followed the manspreader’s lead, trailing behind him with her own chair. Everyone put their folded chairs into a number of wooden chests up against the far wall. Then they turned to either side to pull rolled yoga mats from matching wooden cubbies.
She picked a purple one and hustled to find a clear spot at the back of the room. As Jennifer walked through the crowd she noticed that nearly everyone here was a kid. Some might be in their 20s, but most looked they were still in high school. Aside from Chris, Jennifer guessed she was the oldest one here. Apparently 36 was a bit old to have a digital addiction.
Luckily, Jennifer was still flexible enough to cross her legs, unlike the manspreader who was struggling on his mat in front of her as she settled down. He managed to cross his ankles, but his knees wouldn’t go down further than chest level. As he continued to fight with his knees, pushing them down, only to have them bounce back up again, Jennifer felt a giggle rising up in her throat and attempted to stop it. She pressed her lips together and clamped a hand over her face, but this only forced the giggle through her nose AND through her lips in what, all together, ended up sounding like a squeaky face fart.
Jennifer suddenly felt eyes on her, and she let her face go lax and casually glanced around the room. Well if anyone was looking at her, they weren’t now; so she examined the young people, mostly girls – she noticed, around her, feeling proud that she could still twist herself into such a position.
“Make yourself comfortable and close your eyes,” Chris started, and Jennifer did so as a soothing chime resonated for several long seconds.
There was shuffling in front of her and Jennifer opened one eye to see that the manspreader had risen and was making his way to the wall, presumably to find a comfortable position on no less than three chairs. He turned around to face the room and looked directly at her as he unfolded, and then lowered himself onto a chair.
Jennifer closed her eye quickly, feeling the heat rise up into her cheeks. He’d definitely caught her staring. And she was probably glaring at him too, unintentionally, of course. She had one of those faces – what had her friend called it? Something bitch face… oh yeah, resting bitch face. She could only imagine what resting bitch face looked like with a one-eyed glare. Probably not very friendly.
Chris’s words brought her back to the present. “Focus on your breath. Pay attention to how your body feels as you breathe in… and out.”
Am I breathing normally? Jennifer wondered. She thought she noticed her heart rate going down as she slowed her breaths.
“It’s completely normal to have thoughts enter into our meditation, hear them and let them go… observe your thoughts, and as soon as you recognize them, remind yourself to come back to your breathing, focus on your inhale… and follow it through your body as you exhale… and repeat.”
Chris was silent for a few seconds.
Jennifer exhaled and wondered how long this meditation was going to last. She should definitely post an Instagram photo of this; no one would ever believe she’d sat still for longer than 5 minutes. How long had it been anyway? She should ask once they were finished so that she could have an accurate number to add to her caption… and then Jennifer realized an Instagram photo was not going to happen. She mentally smacked her palm against her forehead.
“Let your thoughts move on,” Chris suddenly reminded her, “and come back to your breath.”
Okay… Jennifer thought, breathe in, breath out… oh my god, my foot is totally asleep. How much longer are we going to sit here? She opened an eye again and glanced around without moving her head. No one else seemed uncomfortable, and she didn’t want to disrupt the silence by shuffling around.
She switched eyes and looked towards the wall. The manspreader wasn’t even trying. He was slouched against the wall, one hand on his crotch, knees spread to the max, and when her eyes finally traveled up his body, she saw that his eyes were open, a bored expression on his face. He was looking at Chris, whose own eyes were closed as she continued to breathe deeply.
Jennifer glanced back at the manspreader, but this time he was aiming his intense gaze directly at her. She automatically snapped her eye shut and winced; she’d been caught staring at him twice now. Oh. My. God. Stop looking at this guy. He probably thinks I’m a creepy cougar, Jennifer thought, but she quickly corrected herself. I’m too young to be a cougar.
“Now we’re going to do something that may be a bit uncomfortable,” Chris said, and there was a mysterious edge to her voice. “Think of an embarrassing moment… something from your childhood maybe… something that not many people in your life now would know about.”
Jennifer was immediately transported to a college classroom. She’d gotten high, maybe a little higher than she should’ve gotten, right before class. Usually it was the audience type of learning experience versus the participation kind… Jennifer took care to categorize her classes this way to make sure she didn’t get caught in a weed driven social anxiety attack, but Professor Brinkley must’ve been experimenting that day. He’d decided to have his students take turns reading aloud… only one paragraph at a time, but the text was dense with unfamiliar four and five syllable words that Jennifer had no idea how to pronounce.
As the student in front of her started to read, Jennifer quickly read ahead, trying to prepare herself for her turn. She’d internally sighed with relief when she was finished, but then the girl in front of her had gone on… she was reading the paragraph Jennifer was supposed to read. She had become frozen with shock, and suddenly it was her turn, and she was totally unprepared.
Jennifer had stumbled through the text, gripping both sides of the desk to stop her hands from shaking. She’d sounded out at least three unknown words as if she were a second-grader, then she proceeded to butcher even the parts of the English language she did know.
Jennifer couldn’t look up in the silence that followed. No one laughed or snickered… it was an uncomfortable, pitying silence, which was confirmed with the professor’s elongated, “ooookaaay.”
The heartbeat in her ears hadn’t relented its pounding until three students later.
She’d often wondered what her classmates had thought of her that day. Jennifer would be perfectly fine with the truth: she’d gotten stupidly high… but she feared it was more likely that they thought stupid was her default setting.
“Now, it’s time to forgive yourself.” Chris’s voice intruded into the memory, “step into your past as the present version of you, older, more experienced, and bring love to the child you used to be. Give that child a hug, tell them it’s ok, tell them you forgive them, tell them that you love them. See the expression on their face when they experience this forgiveness and love. Ok, it’s now time to come back to the present moment.”
Jennifer opened her eyes slowly, and unfolded her twisted legs even slower. She’d definitely need to sit there for a few minutes to let the blood flow reach her foot; to make sure the pins and needles had run their course before she tried to walk. Jennifer pretended to stretch as everyone around her began to rise, and intentionally avoided looking up, terrified of somehow being pulled back into the manspreader’s gaze again.
Chris directed everyone to the dining hall and a soft chatter filled the air and faded away behind Jennifer as the crowd left the room.
“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” A deep voice asked, and a hand reached down to her. It was the manspreader standing over her. Looking past his hand into his face, Jennifer noticed that, though he was dressed like a teenager in a white hoodie and jeans, he was a lot older than she’d realized. Maybe even older than her.
Jennifer took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, which still felt a little tingly. He held onto her hand at the end of the gesture combining it into a handshake and said, “Matt.”
“Jennifer,” she said with a tight smile.
“You a workaholic?” he asked.
“No… I don’t think so…” Jennifer said, “why?”
“Oh… I just assumed… wait. You’re not here on a court order are you?” He asked and amusement shone in his hazel gaze.
“Yeah, actually, I am.” Jennifer said shortly. And with that she turned her back to him and marched toward the dining hall.
When she smelled the tomato-sauce-drenched main course, she grabbed an apple and a banana and made her way back to the double doors, intending to eat and read back in her room. But manspreader, Matt, stepped in front of her, blocking the way.
“You want to join me for dinner?” he asked, an empty tray in one hand.
“I was actually going to go eat in my room,” Jennifer said, a hint of irritation in her voice. What was with this guy? Her earlier embarrassment around him was quickly being replaced with annoyance at his boldness.
“Ok, well, I just wanted to apologize if I offended you before… it wasn’t intentional.”
“Ok.” She said. But he was still blocking her way out. Should she walk around him?
“Sorry.” He said.
“It’s fine.” But it wasn’t fine, Jennifer thought, it was none of his business.
And then he finally stepped away, saying, “Ok, I guess I’ll see you later.”
But Jennifer didn’t answer him as she hurried out the door and back to the comfort of her room.
She read her book until her eyes were so heavy she got stuck in a loop, reading the same paragraph again and again in between bouts of wakefulness, until she finally gave up.
The next thing she knew she was sitting straight up in bed, heart thudding, her skin tacky with sweat. She’d had a nightmare, she realized… thank god it was just that. Jennifer had woken up just before she’d hit someone, someone else, she thought as she recalled the dream woman’s fear-twisted face through the rain-smeared windshield. She’d had a yellow umbrella and it had cast her skin in a shade of jaundice.
Jennifer didn’t see it happen, but the sense of speed and lack of control as she’d dropped the phone, gripped the wheel and punched the brake pedal to the floor… it made her almost certain that the hit had to be fatal.
Was this the Universe trying to warn her? Trying to make her take her “crime” more seriously? Not cool, Universe, not cool.
She let herself fall back into the pillow, which was now damp and cold and not at all comforting. The EHH, EHH, EHH of the alarm clock jarred her upright again, and once she could finally figure out how to shut the archaic thing up, Jennifer let out a long sigh. She thought of how, if she’d had her phone, she’d be woken up gently as a harp played, slowly increasing in volume as it went. She groaned as she got up; there wasn’t much time to get ready before her 1-on-1 with Chris.
Jennifer brushed her teeth furiously with one hand as she pulled socks off with the other, hopping a couple times to keep from losing her balance. The contrast of blonde on black automatically drew her gaze away from her brown eyes, and she sighed through her nose so as to avoid spewing toothpaste everywhere. She couldn’t even afford to buy a cheap bottle of dye, not unless she wanted to add to her already Everest high mountain of debt, and the pink had long since faded from her short dreadlocks.
Jennifer hadn’t taken a single selfie since… she’d thought about going with black and white photos, tried every filter there was, but nothing looked right alongside the colorful art in her feed; too off-brand.
Luckily, she didn’t have the time to dwell on it. She rinsed, spit, turned away from her reflection and its reminder of all her problems, and got in the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Jennifer passed into Chris’s office with her clothes clinging to her still damp skin, but at least she wasn’t late, she affirmed to herself as she glanced at the clock. It was 7:29, one minute to spare.
Office was a formal word for the comfy, brightly colored room. There was no desk, no file cabinets, and it was as if a box of markers had thrown up on the walls. The glossy white walls were floor to ceiling dry erase boards, and they were almost completely covered in writing and drawings. Here and there were rectangular patches of black chalkboard paint, which were equally scribbled upon in pale pastels. An L-shaped couch, a love seat, and a few chairs were arranged in a circle that surrounded a bunch of beanbag chairs on the floor. The room looked more suited to a teenage hangout than an office. Jennifer took a seat on a vibrantly green, velvety soft sofa.
“How are you settling in Jennifer?” Chris asked from her seat on a hot pink chair; hers was equally velvety looking. Her hands were laid one atop the other in her lap.
“Well, my wake up wasn’t fun, but aside from that… fine.” Jennifer knew that no digital devices were allowed on the premises, but she’d thought for sure that an exception would be made for the people who ran this place. But even if not, shouldn’t Chris at least have a notebook, a folder to reference… something?
“Yes, you had quite the nightmare, didn’t you?”
“No,” Jennifer said, her gaze scanning above Chris’s head to a long, twisting, Chinese-style dragon drawn in red, “it wasn’t the nightmare I was talking about, it was the alarm cl—wait,” she interrupted herself, her eyes darting back to Chris, “How did you know about my nightmare? Are there hidden cameras in my room?”
“No, there are no cameras in your room,” said Chris, “along with being immoral, that would also be illegal.”
“Then… how did you know about my nightmare?”
“The same way I know about the manspreader.” Chris smiled broadly and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“Who?” Jennifer began to mentally retrace the past 24 hours, but she couldn’t remember saying that aloud to anyone. Had she secretly been hypnotized during the meditation, caught muttering her inside jokes aloud?
“Hypnotism is something we can do here,” Chris responded, unprompted, “but I assure you, you have not been hypnotized.”
Chris paused for a moment, as if to let that sink in. Jennifer was stunned into silence.
“I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion,” Chris continued, “unfortunately, it’s the only way I’ve found to get through to most people… do you know why you’re here Jennifer?”
“Because it was this or lose my license.”
“Yes… that’s true. You’ve got three counts of texting and driving on your record… but I’m not asking you about your crime Jennifer, I’m asking if you know what you’ve come here to learn. Any idea?”
“How to promise I won’t do it again?… and mean it, since you apparently can read my mind.”
“Let’s go about this a different way. What have you experienced since you last had your phone?”
“I’ve felt… lost. Like something’s missing. Like I’m missing something.” Jennifer paused, but Chris nodded for her to continue. “I feel out of the loop. Disconnected.”
“Yes! You feel disconnected, and rightfully so. You know, smartphones have only been around for the past couple of decades, and in that time we’ve somehow conditioned ourselves to be completely reliant on them for our connection to everything.”
Jennifer couldn’t dispute that. The past day had been a challenge to say the least. She nodded.
Chris went on, “but what if I told you that you could be trained to connect to others, to this world, to this Universe, in ways that you could never imagine… in ways that would make your phone seem subpar?”
“What, you want to teach me how to read minds?” Jennifer asked doubtfully.
“You already know how to connect to others, you’ve had at least one big hit since you’ve been here.”
“What do you mean?”
“That wasn’t just a nightmare, Jennifer, it was a memory… someone else’s memory.”
Jennifer thought back to her dream. It was a bit fuzzier now, but she could still recall most of it: the phone in her hand, white screen blazing in the dimly lit interior, though the words she’d read were totally lost now, and the yellow-skinned woman with wide eyes. But wait… Jennifer went back to the phone in her hand… had it been her hand? Had it been her car? It was hard to tell. It’d been dark.
“Whose memory?”
“Well that wouldn’t be very fun, now would it?” Chris said with a smirk. “You’re here for a month, you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.”
Jennifer headed to the dining hall after that. She walked through the food line in a daze, trying to remember the details of her nightmare. Could it really be a memory? Jennifer would’ve found that hard to believe before her strange encounter with Chris, but she also would’ve thrown mindreading into the same box; passing it off as just another sci-fi element, along with teleportation and time travel. There was no doubt, though. Unless Jennifer was truly losing it, there was no other explanation for Chris knowing about her dream… or the fact that she had internally nicknamed the manspreader.
Speak of the spreader himself, as Jennifer was exiting the line he was waving her over to his table. Her impulse was to pretend she hadn’t seen him and return to her room like she had last night, but she had so many questions about this place now, and maybe some of these other digi detoxees could answer them. At least this time he wasn’t alone, the ripped jeans girl who’d sat on the other side of her in the Oak room was at the table too.
Jennifer took a deep breath and headed toward them. “Hey,” she said with a forced smile she hoped didn’t look it. “Matt right?” she started, looking at the manspreader, but she didn’t wait for him to answer before she shifted her gaze to the girl, “I didn’t get your name.”
“Karen,” the girl said, extending her hand. Her long, almost black, hair was shiny, sleek, and straight. With her bangs, the way it hung was like a three-sided picture frame around her face, all hard edges and contrast.
“Jennifer.” She shook the girl’s hand over the table, and noticed that the black nail polish from yesterday had been replaced with fire engine red.
“We were just talking about Karen’s 1-on-1,” Matt said, “did you have yours yet?”
“Yeah, just before I came here,” Jennifer said, “wasn’t exactly what I’d expected.”
“Me neither, but the idea that we’ve somehow stumbled upon a school for psychic development makes it so much more interesting. Don’t you think?” Karen asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “I mean if going through this detox is mandatory, we may as well get something useful out of it. I’m actually excited now.”
“I mean it’d be cool, I’m not debating that… but do you think it’s even possible?” Matt countered. “I’m not entirely convinced.”
“I wasn’t either, at first,” Karen said, “but Chris knew things… she knew things I’ve never told anyone.”
“Like what?” Matt asked, a smirk on his face.
“Chris knowing is bad enough, I’m sure as hell not telling you.” Karen said looking at him like she had a bad taste in her mouth. After a pause she started again, “But, I will say that I think that whole embarrassing moment thing she made us do during the meditation was a way for her to get material.”
“Material?” Jennifer said.
“Yeah, you know, to prove this shit to us.” Karen explained.
“Well that’s not gonna work on me,” Matt replied, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I couldn’t think of anything embarrassing. I was barely able to focus on meditating in the first place.”
“Well you’ll see,” Karen said assuredly, “when you go to your 1-on-1.”
Matt only shrugged and switched his gaze. “What about you, Jennifer?” he asked.
“I guess I’m still trying to absorb all of this.” She paused to eat a spoonful of bland oatmeal. She’d piled brown sugar on top and mixed it in, but barely tasted it. “My inner skeptic is still trying to convince me there’s a reasonable explanation for what just happened; but she’s having trouble finding one.”
“Yeah,” Matt agreed, “like maybe our friends and family are in on some elaborate practical joke?”
“But there’s no way,” Jennifer was shaking her head. “Chris was reading the thoughts in my head as I was thinking them.”
“Yeah, she did the same thing to me.” Karen said. “Look, I’m not saying I’m entirely convinced we’ll be able to do this mind reading thing anytime soon. But I have no doubt that Chris has some crazy skills… makes total sense now why we have to be here for so long… but yeah, I’m willing to give it a go. Think of what we could do.”
“Yeah…” Matt’s smirk returned, wider than ever, “Well I guess only time will tell.”
They were all quiet for awhile as they finished eating.
“Hey we still have an hour until the next group meeting,” Matt said. “Who’s up for a walk?”
“I’m down,” said Karen quickly, “the weather’s supposed to be gorgeous today.”
Matt and Karen both looked at Jennifer expectantly. “Ok, you’ve convinced me,” she said on a sigh.
“Well don’t let us twist your arm,” Matt said, but he smiled.
“No, I could use the fresh air, and who knows, this could be the last of the nice weather, we should definitely take advantage of it.”
***
Matt was much taller than Karen and Jennifer, and he stopped several times to let them catch up to him before he found their pace. It was still a bit chilly out, but the sun on their backs was comfortably warm, and grew warmer as it rose.
“So, Karen,” Matt began, “you said earlier that this is mandatory for you…” he glanced at her before continuing, “care to indulge our curiosity.”
Karen shrugged. “Sure, I’ve got nothing to hide. It’s kinda stupid actually. Long story short, I got my three strikes and here I am. But it’s impossible not to text and drive when most of your “driving,” she used air quotes, “is actually idling in dead stopped traffic, ya know? Plus, I can’t do my job without my phone, I’m an Uber driver… so in reality, I never actually texted anyone. My dash mount broke and I had an unlucky week with cops, what can I say? What about you?”
So apparently Karen was older than she looked too, because Jennifer was pretty sure you had to be at least 21 to be an Uber driver.
“I checked myself in voluntarily,” Matt said, “but not until after I had a wake up call.” He paused for two or three paces, then continued on a bit reluctantly. “I’m kind of a workaholic. I was driving out to dinner after a late night at work, it was raining, pouring actually, and I was waiting for an important email. My phone went off, and it was just so automatic the way I grabbed for it… anyway, I took one hand off the wheel at the same time I hit a stretch of deep water. I dropped the phone as soon as I started hydroplaning, but it happened so fast, and before I had both hands on the wheel again I’d already done a 180 and was flying off the road. The next thing I knew I’d slammed sideways into a tree.”
“Wow,” Jennifer stopped walking, “were you hurt?”
“Not at all, but I can’t stop myself from wondering what could’ve happened if there was another car nearby… what if I’d hurt someone else? Killed someone? And all because of a stupid email? I’d never be able to forgive myself.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Karen gave Matt a friendly pat on the back, “and you’re here to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right? So don’t worry about it.”
Matt nodded and they started walking again. The path they’d taken looped around a large pond, and they were nearly back to where they’d started again.
“I worry about the same thing,” Jennifer broke the silence. She hadn’t planned on airing out her own skid marks, but Matt’s unexpected vulnerability made Jennifer feel like she owed it to him to be honest herself. “Though… I have to admit I don’t think it has anything to do with needing to digitally detox.” Jennifer started, she was about to bring up the nightmare since that was the main instigator of her recent fears, but she quickly decided against it. If that nightmare was a memory like Chris said, it most likely belonged to someone here, and who was she to tell someone else’s story. Plus, it had an uncomfortable number of similarities to Matt’s story. Could that be a coincidence? Was her dream off? Was he hiding part of the story?
“I actually did hit someone.” Jennifer admitted, and Matt and Karen both stopped simultaneously to turn toward her. “He was fine,” she quickly continued, a bit defensively, “but the fact is, it would’ve happened whether I had my phone with me or not.” Jennifer could probably squeeze between the two of them and keep walking, and that was what she wanted to do most, but she also didn’t want it to look like she was hiding anything either, so she stopped too.
“I was pulling out of this gas station. It’s on a busy road, so you can’t make a left there, but there’s a yield sign to go right. Sometimes you get lucky and catch a gap in traffic when the light down the road changes, but most of the time you have to sit there and wait.” Jennifer paused here as if her audience needed time to paint the scene in their heads. “So I was waiting and waiting, and my phone went off; it was a text from my friend checking on my ETA, so I tapped the screen to read it. Then I told Siri to text her back that I was on my way. I looked to the left and saw there was finally a gap I could cut into, I hit the gas as the last car was passing in front of me, but as I turned my head to face forward there was something in front of me, and I slammed on my brakes to stop from hitting it. But it was too late. My car jerked forward a couple of feet and stopped, and suddenly there was a man in front of me sprawled in the road.
“I tried to help him, but he got up all on his own before I could make it to him. He was furious, waving his arms at me, screaming that he saw me looking down at my phone. He called the police. And sure enough, they believed him as soon as they saw the time on my last text matched the time he’d reported the accident. It didn’t help that I already had a couple of texting and driving tickets on my record.
“What pisses me off the most though is that I was trying to do better! I got one of those stupid mounts so I could be ‘hands free’ and I hadn’t typed out a single text since my last ticket. And I wasn’t even driving!!!” Jennifer took a moment to breathe away her fury.
“Plus,” she continued in a much calmer voice, “I’ve turned out of that parking lot so many times. I never look right. There’s not even a shoulder on that road. It’s not the kind of road you should be out taking a stroll on. So I’m sure I would’ve hit him anyway.”
Karen was suddenly laughing, “So,” she started, but she was cracking up and couldn’t spit out the words. “So,” she said again once she could get control over herself, “you mean to tell me that guy saw you NOT look at him and decided to walk in front of your car anyway?” Again, laughter burst out of her, and Matt and Jennifer couldn’t help but be infected by it, letting out a few of their own chuckles.
“Yeah,” Jennifer said starting to catch a bit of Karen’s contagious laughter, “probably not his brightest moment.”
“That guy wouldn’t last two seconds in the city.” Karen said with a shake of her head.
Matt was chuckling a bit now too, though Jennifer could tell he was trying not to. “We are such assholes for laughing about this.”
“Why?” Karen said, “It’s not like he died… of anything other than embarrassment, maybe.”
“Ya know, that’s probably so true,” Jennifer said, “I never said it at the time, but I thought he was totally overreacting. I mean, if he had the energy to jump up and wave his arms around at me the way he was…” Jennifer was laughing again. “I’ve seen toddlers with less energetic temper tantrums.”
The laughter and the rest of their walk wound down as the trio reached the end of the trail. The paved pathway spread out into a parking lot before them.
“Just in time,” Matt said, glancing at his watch, “we have 10 minutes until our next group meeting.”
“Perfect,” said Karen, “I’m gonna grab something from my car quick, and run it over to my room.” She veered to the left towards a bright red Mazda RX8 and opened the passenger side door.
Something about the car was familiar to Jennifer, but with the only eye-catching paint job in a lot full of neutral blacks, whites, and silvers, she assumed she must’ve noticed it when she pulled in yesterday.
“You can use that for Uber?” Matt asked. “I thought all of their cars needed to have four doors.”
“Well, technically it has four doors,” Karen said as she reached in behind the seat and pulled open a surprise back door. “But you’re right, this is my personal car, and not at all Uber-approved, which is good, because if anyone threw up in this car, I’d be pissed.” She grabbed a small storage container out of the back seat and gently bumped both doors closed with her hip.
As Karen got closer Jennifer recognized the case’s colorful contents. “That’s a lot of nail polish!”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got a lot of time to kill,” Karen shot back, glancing at Jennifer’s nails as she did, “oooooohhhwww, you’ve got some blank canvases for me.” She raised her eyebrows in question.
“If you really want to,” Jennifer agreed half-heartedly, “I mean, there’s not much there—”
“Oh please, help a girl out,” Karen pleaded, “I’m doing my own daily, and it doesn’t take up nearly as much time as I need it to.”
“Ok,” Jennifer chuckled. Internally she wondered how she was going to keep from poisoning herself the next time she unconsciously bit her nails.
“You think we scared the big guy off?” Karen asked, and Jennifer noticed that Matt had somehow gotten ahead of them. He was already pulling open the glass doors some 50 feet ahead of them.
“Maybe… but he doesn’t seem like the type to scare easily,” Jennifer replied.
“I’m sure I could fix that with one ride.” Karen winked.
“I hope you’re talking about a ride in your car.”
“Of course! What kind of girl do you think I am?” As Karen made her way across the wide open lobby toward her room, she giggled in a way that made Jennifer wonder.
A few minutes later they’d joined the rest of the group in the Oak Room and were once again preparing themselves for another guided meditation.
When Matt tried to slink back to his comfort zone against the wall, Chris followed him. She gently pulled him to his feet, lifted the chair he’d been sitting on, and folded it. She looked up at him, paused. Matt had a shit-eating grin on his face. They were too far away to hear, but in a flash Matt’s forehead furrowed in shocked confusion, holding his mouth open like the shit had fallen right out. Chris turned around, bringing the chair closer to the group. She had a serene smile on her lips, but her eyes wore a cockier expression, like they were screaming “HA! Gotcha!”
“Does anyone want to go get something warmer to wear?” she addressed the group as she pulled a sweatshirt on over her tank and returned to her mat. “Once the sun’s gone it’ll get pretty chilly in here.”
A few people looked upward to the endlessly blue sky that shone through the clear panes above, but nobody moved from their seats.
The pyramid shaped room was basically a green house and Jennifer was grateful for the toasty temperature. Although it was comfortable outside while Jennifer was walking, once she’d slowed down in the parking lot, any hint of a breeze had bit into her skin.
“Anyone?” Chris tried again, but still no one budged from their seats. “Ok, then let’s begin, shall we?” She gave her tiny bell a tap and a familiar chiming vibrated through the large space for several seconds.
Chris led the group to focus on their breathing as she did before, and after a few minutes of that she guided them into full relaxation. “Notice how the top of your head feels, relax your scalp. Feel any tension in your face… and let it go. Let the skin on your forehead go slack, relax your cheeks, your jaw…” and she went on to bring attention to every bit of Jennifer’s tense body. Odd how you didn’t even realize your jaw was clenched until someone told you to unclench it, Jennifer thought. By the time Chris had reached her toes, Jennifer was so relaxed she felt like her skin had melted off; but in a good way.
“Focus on the sounds seeping into your ears,” Chris said softly, “let the noise gradually get louder, until you start to recognize it…”
The orangey glow that’d shown through Jennifer’s closed eyelids gradually faded to black. At the same time the staticky sound of nothing grew louder until she knew what it was. Rain. Jennifer opened her eyes to confirm it. The blue above had been replaced by a dark gray and it was pouring.
Only Chris still had her eyes closed, everyone else was looking up in wonder. Jennifer hugged herself and rubbed her arms as the temperature quickly dropped.
Without opening her eyes, Chris said, “I warned you that it would get chilly.” Then, after a pause, “Well I guess we’re done meditating for now,” she said and finally opened her eyes to look at everyone in front of her.
The group broke for lunch and afterwards, Chris divided them up. Most everyone had taken the opportunity to bundle themselves up before returning to the chilly, gray Oak Room, but it turned out that only half of them would be needing the extra clothing.
As Chris directed them all to form two neat lines, Jennifer felt like she was back in elementary school about to march out to recess. She was at the back of the line, Karen stood in front of her, and Matt towered in the next spot. But that’s where the nostalgia ended, as Chris instructed the group to turn sideways to face the opposing line. There just so happened to be an even amount of people in the room, and Chris told them all to pair off with the person directly in front of them.
Jennifer was mildly disappointed, as she seemed to already be losing her recently found companionship with this forced partnering. She walked toward the blonde girl across from her and offered a weak half smile. Jennifer was trying to be warm, but she had a feeling her face was suggesting more of a well-I-guess-I-don’t-have-a-say-in-this look. It was the same kind of smile one of two team leaders in a high school gym class might give you when it’s his turn to pick and you’re the last one standing.
“Hi,” Jennifer tried to warm up her smile as she extended a hand to the girl, “I’m Jennifer.” The girl reminded her of Baby Spice, minus the slutty attire and pigtails.
“Emma,” she said quietly.
No way, Jennifer thought, wasn’t that Baby Spice’s real name? She wished for the instant gratification of a quick Google, and she wondered if she’d ever stop wanting to Google and Instagram things every hour on the hour.
The brief introduction was all they had time for, though, because Chris was already separating them again. Those who were from Emma’s line were directed to make themselves comfortable beneath the oak tree, while Jennifer, Karen, Matt, and the rest of their group followed Chris back to her teen hangout of an office.
When they walked in the room seemed brighter than it had been earlier, and at a second glance, Jennifer realized it was because the shiny, white walls had been wiped clean.
“Take a seat for now,” Chris said as she spread her arms out and stepped to the side.
“We’re going to do a mini-meditation.” She continued as Jennifer planted herself beside Karen on the velvety green couch. “By now, your partners have been given their own instructions… to send you a message. Your job is to receive that message.”
A few people were exchanging skeptically raised eyebrows, one guy rolled his eyes shaking his head slowly back and forth, someone nearby shrugged their shoulders at him and returned their attention to Chris, who was making her way to an empty beanbag chair towards the room’s center. She practically fell into it on one arm, stretched herself out like a cat, and crossed her ankles.
“Before we begin, I just want you all to know that you can feel free to get up at any time. These messages can be fleeting, and as soon as you sense something, I encourage you to note it on the walls.”
Everyone started looking around the room, a couple with confused looks on their faces. “They’re dry erase boards,” Chris clarified before anyone could ask, “you’ll find markers scattered around, take your pick. Any words, images, shapes, feelings, sounds… anything that comes to you, make sure to record it on the wall. This is a way to communicate more than it’s a test of your artistic capabilities… so please don’t hold back. We welcome chicken scratch and stick figures.
Chris paused as she looked around the room with a smirk on her face, and Jennifer wondered if she might be waiting for her audience to laugh. “Any questions?” she finally asked.
Jennifer had a few: Are you serious right now? How do you expect us to do that exactly? Is this for real, or have I somehow found myself in an American accented episode of Black Mirror?, but they all came out sounding incredulous in her mind, so she remained silent.
When no one uttered a word, Chris went on, “Close your eyes and clear your mind by focusing on your breath, like we’ve been doing, and once you’re relaxed, bring your attention to your partner. Imagine them sitting in the grass beneath the Oak tree, you’re standing in front of them, you look down at your hands and notice that they’re semi-transparent; you’re in the Oak Room in spirit.” Chris quickened her pace, “now merge into your partner, become one with them, feel what they’re feeling, hear what they’re hearing…”
Despite the energy in Chris’s voice, it seemed to be getting more distant in Jennifer’s ears, and suddenly she heard another voice… it was slightly familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Imagine them in your mind’s eye, whisper your message, whisper your message, whisper your message…” but now that voice was fading away too, and Jennifer was sitting down on top Emma, falling into her body—
A red umbrella, it’s handle up in the air, flashed into Jennifer’s mind, and though she saw no hand holding it steady, it was balanced perfectly like a non-spinning top. And before she even knew what she was doing, Jennifer found herself at the board drawing what she’d seen. When she was done, she was embarrassed to see several sets of eyes staring at her curiously. She quickly made her way back to the couch, noting on the way that nobody else had drawn a thing… Jennifer’s upside-down umbrella was the only image that graced the walls.
“Very good,” Chris mouthed to her, and then out loud, “I’m going to give you 5 more minutes to focus on the message your partners are sending you, and then I’m going to ask you all to doodle your findings on the board… whether or not you think you’ve received anything.”
Someone sighed loudly, frustrated. Jennifer let out her own sigh; though hers was one of relief.
As everyone else focused with furrowed brows, Jennifer reimagined the experience she’d just had. It was a strange thing to admit, but this vivid umbrella had felt like it’d come from outside of her. She’d always had a vivid imagination, could create and see things in her mind’s eye… but she couldn’t trace this ‘vision’ – for lack of a better term – back through any stream of consciousness that’d come from her own thoughts. It was like a unicorn darting out from a herd of elephants.
“Ok,” Chris called out, “time’s up. Whether you think you have answers or not, go on, grab some markers and head to a clean space on the wall.”
A chorus of sighs and groans sounded as everyone stood and trudged over to the boards.
“You haven’t failed yet, so don’t make assumptions,” Chris said, “just write or draw the first thing that pops into your head. This is your first attempt at something you’ve probably never done before, and just like with any other skill, some of you will find your strengths in different areas. We’re all like radios, and you’ll find that you tune into certain stations more easily than others. Right now we’re just experimenting with the dial to see what we can pick up on.”
Karen had a blue marker and was rapidly scribbling a manifesto in tiny letters. Jennifer couldn’t read any of it from her spot on the couch. Next to Karen, Matt was adding pigtails to one of the 5 stick figures he’d drawn. A few others were adding their own embellishments to the wall, but more than half of the class stood stationary in front of a blank space.
“Don’t think about it,” Chris said to those paralyzed people, and she snapped her fingers as she went on, “first thing you think right now, put it on the board. We’re just playing a game here. There’s no penalty for a wrong answer. The only way you can fail here is if you don’t try.” That finally got the few remaining stragglers to add their own hasty additions in an effort to return to their seats quickly.
“Good job everyone.” Chris made eye contact with each and every person in the room before she finally dismissed them to lunch. Apparently they’d be going over their work once they’d reassembled later that afternoon. Jennifer looked forward to that with a mixed sense of excitement and dread, like she was just cresting the peak of the tallest point on a rollercoaster, waiting for the inevitable drop.
Karen looped her arm around Jennifer’s and leaned into her, “if we hurry up and eat we’ll have enough time to do our nails before the next meet,” she whispered conspiratorially.
***
“So what was all that you were writing on the board?” Jennifer asked as she stretched her arm out to Karen.
Karen applied a mauve polish to Jennifer’s pointer finger in three quick, neat strokes and moved on to her middle finger. Without looking up she said, “The lyrics to a song that was running through my head.”
“What song?”
“Let it Go.”
“From Frozen?”
“Yup.” She was already done painting the nails on Jennifer’s right hand, and reached out for her left.
“Do you think that has anything to do with your partner’s ‘message?’ ”
“I dunno.” Then after a pause and another couple of painted fingernails, “but I guess we’ll find out,” Karen said finishing off on Jennifer’s pinky and finally looking up. She shrugged. “The real question is,” she said as she rummaged through her box of polish and pulled out a trio of bottles, one after the other, and laid them out on the bedspread in between them, “Red Red Wine, Lotus, or Garnet Star?”
Jennifer hunched over and squinted at them, the hues were nearly indiscernible in the dim indoor light. “What’s wrong with the color you have on now?” she asked as she picked them up and twisted to get a better look beneath the lampshaded light.
“Uh, they’re chipped,” Karen said, in a way that implied Jennifer was a bit thick, and thrust her ring finger towards her to prove it.
Again, Jennifer found herself in a game of find the difference searching Karen’s pristine nail for a defect. Finally she noticed a minuscule amount of missing polish on one corner of her squarely shaped nails. “Ahh,” Jennifer said, returning her gaze to the trio of dark purpley reddish colors in her hand. “This may seem like a dumb question, but, why not just paint over the chip? Or just redo that one nail?”
“I mean I might in a pinch, if I had somewhere to be,” Karen snorted, “but what else do we have to do?”
Jennifer nodded and handed her the color labeled “Lotus.” All three colors were too dark in Jennifer’s opinion, but that one was a shade brighter than the others.
As Karen silently began scrubbing at her nails with a cotton ball, Jennifer blew on her own nails, contemplating whether or not she should pursue the topic further. Karen seemed completely uninterested in the strange exercise they’d just performed, as if they’d just come out of a math class where they were learning obvious facts like two plus two equals four, and it was all mundane enough to be forgotten. But Jennifer had experienced something profound; something unexplainable. She’d had an out of body experience. She’d had a vivid vision! Like she was straight out of the pages of some supernatural thriller, playing the role of the reluctant psychic being drawn into a murder mystery. Even though the validity of what she’d seen had yet to be officially confirmed, Jennifer held a strange certainty that it would be.
[Conclusion:]
Don’t worry, my friends, there’s much more to come. If you’re listening to this in the week that it goes live, you can expect Part 2 of Disconnected next week. If you’re listening to this from the future, it’s you’re lucky day, and you can dive into Part 2 right now!
Thank you to Sean Howard for inspiring me with your art and for your generosity in sharing it with us as this podcast’s cover art. Please, please, please, check that out when you get a minute, and visit Sean over at fableandfolly.com to discover new fiction podcasts. I’d recommend you check the show notes to find a link to the rest of Sean’s Levitation series, too, I promise you won’t be sorry!
Much love goes to my Patrons Jennifer, Matt, Karen, and Chris whose continued support for this show is much appreciated. Words seem a dim representation for my gratitude, but I hope you all know that it’s there in a big way.
I have a bit more to share about the kind people my characters were named after at the end of Part 2, but for now, it’s time for me to get crackin’ so I don’t leave ya’ll hangin’ for too long.
I’ll be bok, I hope you’ll hear me there!
