I'm Here. If You Need Me.

If walls could talk, believe me, I’d NEVER shut up.

I imagine our conversation would go like this:

You walk in, just like you’re doing now, all bedraggled and beset. Your boots kick up dust and scuff the concrete. Scuff, scuff, shuffle, repeat. Kinda like the others did, before the end.

No, I’m not talking yet. I’m narrating. Be patient.

Now you settle down – yeah, just like that – and rest your weary head on me. All the better to listen, because children need bedtime stories when they’re tired, which means adults need them even more. It’s like food. The more you grow, the more you need to consume. It’s science.

So I say, “Care for a story, stranger?”

You sigh. Then you nod. And I begin, like this.

I started out as a line, barely. An idea of a line. Someone drew me with a virtual pen on a virtual blueprint in a virtual database. I remember that moment because I had just become…me.

I wasn’t a big line, or a thick line, or a line with fancy shading. I was part of the masses. Thousands of lines, dozens of floors, and one dream: Connex.

That’s what they called it. I had no idea what Connex meant, but I knew I was part of it. It was enough to make me giddy. I couldn’t wait to be born.

Hey, wake up! If walls had fingers, I’d snap them in your face.

Anyway, I started as an infantile intention, ready to breach with all my brethren. Ready to become real like you.

I learned a lot of new words when I was a baby. Wanna hear them?

Future. Everyone at Connex wanted to change the future, or bring about the future, or usher in the future. It was coming one day, and when it did, it would be here. In my building. In my room!

Do you know what the future is? And have you seen it? I haven’t, not yet, but I’m excited for when it gets here.

Ooh, what about metaverse? It’s a compound word, like wallflower or firewall or swallow, except this one doesn’t have “wall” in it. I figured that out all on my own. Metaverse comes from two different words. Metamorphosis is change, and universe is everything. So metaverse means “change everything.” Pretty nifty, right?

The Connex guys were super into the metaverse. They really wanted to change everything, and I guess they succeeded, because I haven’t seen them around here in a while. I haven’t seen anyone in a while. You’re the first human who’s come by in…hmm.

Connection. I like this one because it’s about me! It’s really important for walls to connect with each other, and the floor, and the ceiling. You see the adjoining wall over there? Yeah, he looked better without that giant hole in him.

They got the name Connex from the word connection. I guess it’s okay to steal part of another word to make a new one. I never understood why humans did that. They can share food, buildings, ideas, friends, dreams, and a whole bunch of other stuff every day for thousands of years until one day, they can’t. Then they start robbing each other.

Life, too. People keep stealing it. If you already have a life of your own, why would you take someone else’s? What are you gonna do with two lives?

I can see by your drooping posture that you’re getting bored. Let’s move on to my adolescence.

I was a lonely wall. I know what you’re thinking – how could I be lonely? Look at this room! We got six different walls, plus some windows, not to mention ceilings and floors and adjacent hallways and so many beautiful components. When they turned me from a virtual pen stroke into a wood-and-plaster wall, I knew I’d make a lot of friends.

Wrong.

I tried talking to them. They never talked back. Even now, when the humans have all gone and the electricity’s died and the street outside’s overgrown with untamed grass, I don’t know why. Maybe they realized I would never shut up. They figured an eternity of silence was better than engaging in a single moment of conversation. Maybe they just couldn’t hear me. Maybe they couldn’t speak.

What do you think? Any ideas?

Okay, moving on.

I got to watch the world grow. Girders sprouted like skeletons, racing into the sky every day as if drawn toward the sun. Following close behind were the wires. They sparked and sputtered their electric blood through every inch of my interior. I’m not ticklish, but if I were…well, I guess it would feel like being alive. That’s how you humans feel all the time, when the blood crashes through your veins to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

I’m not jealous, but I am envious. It’s different.

You see that whiteboard on the wall opposite? When I was growing, I saw the humans write on it. The ink dried long ago, and I tried to make sense of it, but I can’t read writing, silly human. I can only read people like you, and then only when you’re close enough to connect.

Some other human drew two straight lines, one pointing toward the heavens, the other stretching left to right like it’s giving directions. Onward and upward. I’m a big fan of lines, in case you don't remember, so this next one really pulped my plaster. It curved.

Did you hear me? It curved!

The point started at zero, at the intersection of the straight lines, and shot off to the right. The marker’s momentum captivated every eye in the room. The line barreled forward, and after it gained enough speed it ROSE from the tarmac! Altitude! Acceleration! And we have liftoff!

That gorgeous pioneer of a line arced toward the sky. Exponential, the man called it, finishing the curve with a flourish at the board’s high corner. He stabbed it for emphasis, leaving a blotchy black smear. Then he jabbed a second time, marking the word written beneath the graph. Profit, he called it. Maybe prophet. I get those mixed up, and so did they, because BOY were their predictions wrong.

Later, after they all…um…left, most of the adhesive gave out. A single valiant Valu-Strip kept the board up, but the picture swung down. Now the graceful curve points through the floor. Gravity gets us all in the end, except me, because I’m still standing. And so are you, although technically you’re sitting. Same thing.

What I’m trying to say, if I could say anything, is that life’s been wonderful. I had as much of a life as any wall could hope for. I…well, I…

Who am I kidding? It sucked. I didn’t get a single thing they promised, those Connex frauds. And I figured out why.

Metaverse! Virtual Reality! Virtual Currency! Virtual C O N N E C T I O N! The metamorphosis was real, and I know it was real because these people changed everything, and everything changed them right back. They built palaces, mountains, galaxies in their hallowed virtual space. An infinite universe, expanding ever outward, for humanity to explore.

But they never finished the building.

They ran out of money. Somewhere outside, in Unvirtual Reality, the market collapsed. I wondered why they didn’t use their virtual money to fix it. No one ever gave me an answer ‘cause they couldn’t hear me asking.

Then they ran out of food. Not just Connex, but everybody. I remember thinking, why didn’t they grow virtual crops once the fields lay barren? If fake cash and fake worlds and fake connections were enough, why not fake food?

The world came to a crashing halt, and unlike those fancy servers they used, it couldn't be rebooted. No second chances. No restarts. Just…done.

The people went home to their families, but I couldn’t go home because this was home. My brothers and sisters were stuck like me, but they provided no comfort. They just existed, eternally connected to me, eternally silent.

Here’s where you come in.

You listen to my story, nodding politely, as humans do. Then, after I fall silent, you turn to look at me. You offer me a sad smile and place a hand on my surface. You whisper, “I understand. I’m sorry.” And I’ll be okay.

And…go!

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.

Okay then.

I’m not sure where we go now. Because if you’re coming here, to the room where the world ended, you don’t have anywhere else to go. And I’m just a wall. I’m fully invested in this spot, in this moment in time.

It’s fine.

You can’t hear me anyway.

No one ever did.

No one ever will.

But I could hear you, if you talked to me.

I imagine our conversation would go like this:

Once upon a time, you were holding it all together, barely. You employed every scrap of tape and scrounged for every Valu-Strip you could find. Your wife, your job, your two adorable kids, your parents, your friends, your drinking buddies, your church, and your purpose, stacked atop each other like fine china on the countertop’s edge. It wasn’t great, but it was yours. With enough adhesive, you could keep everything from toppling over.

Then the countertop exploded.

You fumbled for the pieces you could save. The wife, the kids. Your friends had their own explosions, their own families. You fled, a cracked china plate in a rusty sedan, bringing another plate and two terrified salad bowls along with you. Buckled in tight, shaking in the back seat. This close to shattering.

You drove for the horizon because it wasn’t here. You’d find shelter. You’d find food. You’d find other people like you, other balancing acts who could help you shoulder the load.

You found them. They didn’t make it.

The kids got sick. They didn’t make it.

The wife gave up. She didn’t make it.

For the first time in a very long time, you had nothing to carry except yourself. And you held yourself together, barely, scrabbling in the dust for discarded Valu-Strips.

Under a bright blue sky, as nature retook the city, you stumbled through Connex’s broken double doors.

And you found me.

I don’t have answers. I don’t even have questions.

If walls could talk, I would say this: I understand.

And I’m sorry.

If you need someone to lean on…

Heh. Get it?

Well.

I’m here. If you need me.