I found something from the Blink today. I spend so much time seeking things like it, but this one came to me. It arrived by post, to my house. It was addressed to a man who never lived there, but it was meant for me. Vain of me, to imbue the Blink with sentience and whimsy when it is so much more, so vast and impersonal. But I still feel like it was an invitation, and I am vain in many ways. I’ll try to scan it at the library and bring it in to these servers on a portable disc when I get my hands on one. For now, here is the letter’s text transcribed. Consider it presented without further comment, excepting the bracketed notes for clarity.
INTERNAL MEMORANDUM [Here there is a watermarked logo of a brain and spinal cord made of thin, angular lines. The logo shimmers as the page moves, a slightly off gray/blue. The spinal cord is roughly the shape of a lightning bolt- which implies the brain is the storm cloud. The design is a bit difficult to understand at first.]
FROM THE DESK OF:
Jeffrey Park, Chief Executive Officer
No. 4, Innovation Way
Verglas, MI 49653
DATE: 2021-04-14
TO: All BrainStorm-Group Staff
FROM: Mr. Park
RE: Internal Organization, Q2 Restructuring Update
I don't think I'll kill myself because I hope that some day I'll find an old, old house, near a too-cold lake. Where I can be comfortably quiet and listen, while the house and I fall apart together. And in the night when chill winds blow, over water, through us, the house and I can relax our silence and mutter to each other about all the things we were. I no longer look forward to being and doing, I look forward to having been, to having done. That is enough for me to keep going, and make it to that day when I finally find my house on the lake, where I might have the freedom to grow old, and where I might pause in peace for ageless moments before I pass.
I don't think I'll kill myself because I long to enjoy the unhurried, contemplative walk of a man finally leaving the woods, trodding towards the edge of a great cliff. In this final part of his journey, the path lays clear behind him: the twisting trail softened by distance and time. The only steps that remain ahead of him are clear and undeniable, the abyss below finally seen with clear eyes. Having no more choices to make; possessed of the absolute knowledge of both what is behind him, and what lies before him, the man on the edge of the cliff might finally know a weightless sense of peace.
I pray that I can one day find this kind of peace as well. The peace of the lake; the peace of the cliff.
Please see Donna at the front desk if you have any questions.
Regards,
[Here the page bears the signature "J J Park" in tiny, perfect, cursive script, written with intention- as though copied from a child's cursive workbook. The signature is smaller than the printed name.]
Jeffrey Park
DICTATED BUT NOT READ