Of What Was Left Behind (ONC 2024)

07 - Absence

With the rising of the sun, the camera sluggishly blinked on. The program shuttered, feeling unbalanced, not unlike the previous day. Knowing there was not an obvious cause, the camera turned inwards, following its code, backtracking that unbalanced feeling to the source..

A fleeting flash, a brief lapse, elusive data...followed by a void.

The camera watched as its surroundings morphed, grasses turned to carpet and walls repaired themselves.

The door opened with a creak. The woman walked in, her brown hair dishevelled. There was a heaviness to her footfalls as if each step took more effort than it should. She then sat on the bed, picking up the phone and scrolling through it for a few minutes.

She sighed and closed her eyes, putting the phone back on the bedside table. Looking up, the woman's gaze swept the room, stopping as she made eye contact with the camera. She took steps forward, picking it up from the desk.

Silence enveloped the moment before she, tugging at her jacket, finally spoke.

"I...I don't know what to feel."

The woman continued pulling at the jacket's side absently, her eyes looking at something in the distance.

"It felt so light."

Her voice carried a brittle quality, reminiscent of dead leaves in the wind, clinging desperately to their branch.

"You know, I don't like the cremation place. It's cold and it felt too...I don't know. I guess it felt too impersonal. Like-"

She stopped.

"We had to use tongs to pick up her bones."

There was another pause as the woman pursed her lips and took a deep breath.

"They were-"

She closed her eyes and her hand stopped.

"They were so light. How could-"

The woman's blank expression cracked and raw pain seeped out.

"How could it-"

Her mouth moved but no sound came out. She took another deep, shuddering breath.

"How could it come from someone I knew?"

There was another moment of silence as she stared into space.

"That memory keeps being replayed in my mind, over and over again. It's just like the moment when I was told that it happened." She stopped, sobbing silently. Her hands grabbed at the sleeves, clutching the thick brown fabric tightly. She glared at the camera, her bloodshot eyes gleaming.

"She-She's gone, isn't she?"

The machine sputtered as its vision wavered back. It scanned its surrounds, comparing how stark the mostly-demolished room was. Back then, there was so much noise, be it the speaking or the cars or the general hubbub of people making a ruckus outside. Now, it was just the sound of the wind, with occasionally the rumble and crack of thunder, the scurries of animals and the light calls of birds dancing through the air.

It was different now.

There was also this sensation, partially awake and working alongside the program. At times, it would work with it, prompting the shutting down of unnecessary actions. Others, it would frantically sort through it, searching, desperate and-

This place felt strange was what the sensation alluded to. It strongly noted at the cracked and mostly crumbled wall. It recoiled at the presence of the grasses growing where the carpet should have been.

There was also this silence. It didn't stem from the program or the sensation, and yet there was this strange strange memory that wasn't quite a memory. It was more of a reaction, but it looked like a recording. It was more like an error, but it called to the preserving lines of code that held the ideas of overlap tightly.

It was strange. It called towards core memories that should have been long forgotten. It prompted a repair, despite it being based on entirely different situations.

Why did the image of a bird prompt a reconstruction of a recording so old that its corrupted data barely made sense?

Why did it even-

The camera took note of the orange sunlight hitting the grasses and the wall. It was different from the other times where sunlight would be intense and bright. This time, the light was muted, a more yellowy orange.

The camera observed the pale yellow-orange sunlight bathing the scene, a softer hue than before, lending a temporary golden tint to everything it touched. The woman sat on the bed, facing the window, her white dress taking on the light's colour, shadows pooling at its hem.

"I think I will miss that place. I kind of spent so much of my time there that I took it all for granted."

There was a pause as the woman grimaced.

"I haven't gotten any callbacks from my friends."

She turned towards the camera, her head inclined slightly as she met its gaze. There was a moment of silence, the woman furrowing her brow slightly.

"This isn't how I expected the world would end."

There was another moment of silence.

"It's more ordinary than I thought. I guess the only strange bit is the cameras inside the house. It's always the panicking people that are the scariest I guess."

The woman turned back towards the window, stopping as her eyes caught sight of a photo frame. A pained expression flashed across her face before she closed her eyes and turned her attention to the outside.

"I think I will definitely miss that place. I made so many memories."

******

A shadow of nostalgia in midst obvious change. 

Expect more change coming from the camera :)

Word count: 5866