Was thinking about this one earlier in the week when I was getting ready to fly, seemed appropriate after nearly missing my flight due to being overlooked while asleep in the departures lounge.
"I'm sorry sir, but we don't have you listed in our records."
"Well look again, look, I've told you my card number, name, everything else. I'm holding the credit card in front of me. I must be listed."
"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid there's no one with those details in our database."
I hung up. It'd been like this all day, hell, it'd been like this most of my life. I seemed to be complete forgettable to everyone. Except that it'd never happened with machinery before.
My parents even, they no longer knew I existed. They'd forgotten on my fifteenth birthday. It'd taken half an hour for me to convince them I wasn't a stranger in their house, but was actually their son. Gradually it got worse, until eventually it was easier just to avoid them than it was to talk to them. It wasn't like they ever noticed me, and if they did I just needed to step out of sight for a minute for them to forget.
Same at school, eventually I just stopped going. My name was on the register, I checked a few times, but the teacher just skipped straight past it.
Of course, its had advantages at times. I can grab something from a shop and walk out, and no one even realises once I'm out of sight of the pursuit. Lucky too, because its fucking impossible to get a job like this. But this is still the first time machinery's screwed up and forgotten me as well.
I walk through the town, looking around. Of course no one returns my gaze, no one sees me even, just automatically steps around me. I try just shoving someone, out of curiousity, but they don't even seem to notice. They stumble and fall, but that's it, they look around, stand back up and gather their things together.
I'm starting to panic again. I search my pockets for the one thing that reminds me I exist, stupid though it may seem. A passport, mine, from seventeen years ago when I was twelve and went to France with my parents.
There it is, in my pocket as always. I take it out, relieved, and look at it before I realise something I've never realised before.
I can't read the name on it, my eyes just skip past it.
"I'm sorry sir, but we don't have you listed in our records."
"Well look again, look, I've told you my card number, name, everything else. I'm holding the credit card in front of me. I must be listed."
"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid there's no one with those details in our database."
I hung up. It'd been like this all day, hell, it'd been like this most of my life. I seemed to be complete forgettable to everyone. Except that it'd never happened with machinery before.
My parents even, they no longer knew I existed. They'd forgotten on my fifteenth birthday. It'd taken half an hour for me to convince them I wasn't a stranger in their house, but was actually their son. Gradually it got worse, until eventually it was easier just to avoid them than it was to talk to them. It wasn't like they ever noticed me, and if they did I just needed to step out of sight for a minute for them to forget.
Same at school, eventually I just stopped going. My name was on the register, I checked a few times, but the teacher just skipped straight past it.
Of course, its had advantages at times. I can grab something from a shop and walk out, and no one even realises once I'm out of sight of the pursuit. Lucky too, because its fucking impossible to get a job like this. But this is still the first time machinery's screwed up and forgotten me as well.
I walk through the town, looking around. Of course no one returns my gaze, no one sees me even, just automatically steps around me. I try just shoving someone, out of curiousity, but they don't even seem to notice. They stumble and fall, but that's it, they look around, stand back up and gather their things together.
I'm starting to panic again. I search my pockets for the one thing that reminds me I exist, stupid though it may seem. A passport, mine, from seventeen years ago when I was twelve and went to France with my parents.
There it is, in my pocket as always. I take it out, relieved, and look at it before I realise something I've never realised before.
I can't read the name on it, my eyes just skip past it.
1 comment:
thats very spooky rabbit.
i feel so sorry for him...
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