At one point, I was visited by an individual. Well, maybe not so much as visited, but I did receive a knock upon my front door. When I asked to whom I might be speaking, a pleasant voice called the name of Jayden K. Smith and then asked politely if I would possibly open my door. As it all seemed so harmless, I did, I opened my door. But when I complied and then investigated, my front stoop stood completely empty…well, I did see wet footprints in the naked porch light. So, in disappointment, I shut my front door. I didn’t think anything more about this strange and chance encounter.
Then one day I received a warning: do not let Mr. Smith in. The alarm made him seem a vampire or a body snatcher, but as I had my good name taken for a ride, I was sensitive to the matter. So, taking in the alarm, I did the neighborly thing; I warned all of my friends of a Mr. Jayden K. Smith, do not let him in. But in response, I received a missive, a warning just as tight, that Jayden K. Smith was a hoax, and a lie. I thought for moment about how strange the whole thing was, after all, it was Jayden K Smith that knocked on my door. There were dewy footprints on my front porch that one particular night. But then, after thinking, “who cares?” I set the whole matter aside.
Then recently, I received the warning once again: don’t let Mr. Smith in, all harm would come. I’m sorry, but it seemed like the warning on the gates of Hell that Dante the poet had mentioned. So, instead of dropping the matter as a whole, I am back to wondering about a man by the name of Mr. Jayden K Smith, a hoax or a person, or even, a woman or a man? Again, in the recent, the present, Mr. Smith, the person with no presence (except maybe for footprints), a lie and a hoax, affected my life with a tease of a promise and nothing more. Maybe, Jayden K. Smith is a real, not hoax or a lie. Maybe, this person is a gremlin, or a ghost, a ghost in the machine, or a shadow, seen but without substance. This Smith person could actually be a mask or a cat phisher dancing a masquerade, hiding a life of a person they feel has failed but wanting more. And then I contemplate the idea of person as a hoax, feeling it odd to claim, but then I am contemplating this is a rumination of thing not made up or created for some purpose.
I thought upon this in the cool morning air, just today, as I stood in the front yard with my dogs watching the mists of Avalon caress the sky. I thought of my own entity taking leave of my soul like a balloon, landing to take holiday on the French Riviera, high tea with some royal, and of having to foot the bill. I thought about how easy it is for us to detach, to rip asunder. We have firmly placed ourselves, thanks to the digital age, into a state that is all electronic, all whisper. We no longer think of corporeal, but we’re simple numbers, a thing. I have witnessed the act of a text, a conversation without spoken word, occurring in the same room, just thumbs and clicks. Certainly to the great cooperations and money handlers of the mighty capital world, we can only be simple numbers, simple data. For when a person fails in rules and must pay with world standing, there is no room for feelings or a consideration of circumstances. Rules are rules, which is true, after all, in society. Welcome to capitalism, welcome to the material world.
And then I remembered the two recent visits of Mama Fox in my front yard, both at what stands in for darkness these days. I remembered her looking my way. She did not come knocking on my door, but there she was, out hunting, simply trying to survive. She did not fear any thief that might steal anything, except as my dogs both barked at her, she did fear a presence that might reveal herself to the world and thus take her meal. Maybe that’s all this whole Jayden K. Smith ever was, or could be. Jayden could only be a shadow of a thing that never was. A thing that only sits in the corner where the shadows are dense, devouring all of our hopes and dreams and sense of safety, an attempt to make the Boogie Man real in a digital world, an old school of thought on being weary and clear, an ancient thought of keeping us alive in a computer world. Now, please be so kind as to add another log to the bonfire.
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