Postponed to the past
I just had to get rid of the flashing red light on the telephone, so I decided to listen to the past tenant’s 19 undeleted messages. There was a frantic call from a girl who’d left her cellphone somewhere in the sheets; she wanted it back. There were “very important” announcements from the technology center. Then there were kind voices who talked about how “double discovery changed my life.” Asked another: “Do you want to teach a kid how to read?” Probably the worst start to any message I’ve heard was here, too: “In 399 BCE….” Ironically, this was the one that attracted me most and got me ready for The Apology of Socrates to be performed tonight.
It just occurred to me — and internet archives now sadly verify –that the play will not happen tonight. It began and ended on the 6th of September last year. There is a definite sadness in the room. It’s as if I’ve been denied my inheritance. Even the red light has stopped blinking, and now I want it back. I take solace only in the fantasy that the past tenant, in the ignorant chaos of these messages, found some charm in ”399 BCE,” heard the message out, and went to the show in my place.
