Digital Ischemia


Cold Call: Day 4

A series of telephone conversations where truth comes away in layers – begins at Cold Call: Day 1

SìMON: (D) Hello.
LACRIMOSA: Ah, my serial cold caller. How’s things at the hospital?
SìMON: Fine.
SìMON: My mum’s moved ward again. Mrs McIver’s still AWOL. This is the new normal.
LACRIMOSA: Your mum?
SìMON: My aunt. They look similar. They’re sisters.
LACRIMOSA: Are you easily confused by older women?
SìMON: Aye, put that in my preferences.
LACRIMOSA: Flustered by threesomes.
SìMON: Sticky threes… Er, I mean dialling the number three. How’re you?
LACRIMOSA: Well, obviously my number hasn’t changed. Has anything? Plastic tat all still intact. Oh, I looked up the moon last night. I mean I looked up at it as well.
SìMON: Good clear night for it – nearly full.
LACRIMOSA: So I found out—I never understood why you couldn’t see a new moon.
SìMON: Because it’s in line with the sun so there’s no reflection to see. Although obviously your retinas are toast if you’re looking at the sun.
LACRIMOSA: OK, so I’m an idiot. Do you know about stars as well?
SìMON: No, but I did a search for ‘Fetish Warehouse Linlithgow’ and it doesnae exist.
LACRIMOSA: Did you take off your ‘safe search’?
SìMON: You mean my search results are all child-friendly?
LACRIMOSA: Did your parents set up your internet for you?
SìMON: My father is frighteningly no’ bothered about internet security.
LACRIMOSA: So that’s your rebellion?
SìMON: What?
LACRIMOSA: OK: flustered by mother, latent rage about father. Interesting.
SìMON: Er, I need to go.
LACRIMOSA: No doubt.

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