59. When Saints Go Machine “Parix” Konkylie [!K7]
“Bad dreams ricochet.”
A camera sat like many cameras likely do when they’re abandoned: motionless and yet somehow itching to be picked up, held, and used. Slightly askew on a crude cinder block arrangement that cordoned off a few freshly planted small trees from the public garden footpath, many walked by it before she paused in her step, gazed upon it, and then decided to let her hands do the predictable. It was like she could sense its own sudden comfort as it bounced on her fingertips, device and new owner getting used to each other like an adopted puppy and an apprehensive young child. When a bustling man bumped her shoulder and the camera almost took a trip to the hard ground below, she immediately realized she better do something with it other than stare and daydream about it. She scrolled through the pictures already on it, finding not a single person in the same photo. Some were happy, some were sad, and the only thing any of them had in common was that they were all staring at the lens from above. Before she could figure the mystery out, without pressing any button to her knowledge, there was a flash and a click. As soon as her eyes readjusted to the natural light she realized there was nothing in her hands anymore. The camera had vanished. But it had to have gone somewhere - and it took her visage along with it.
