Ghost in the Machine
Mar. 10th, 2006 04:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m31andyI'm massively tempted to start trawling the 'net and posting up the following on various creative forums. Just to see if I can freak them out.
Mind you, I suspect that I'll not manage it.
Name: Sarah
Nick: what does this mean?!?
Sex: Female
Age: 27. Well, that's how old I feel!
DOB: 21st January 1899
Location: London
Writes: My life story.
Favourite Authors: Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw, Charles Dickens
Favourite Object: Computers.
Favourite Flavour of Ice Cream: Ice Cream flavour? I've only tried vanilla.
Hmm, the above doesn't give much of a detailed picture of me, does it? I mean, you wonder why I am posting here, and you don't get any answers from the above. How about I give you my potted life's story.
I was born in 1899, in Red Hill, near Croydon. I was the youngest of six. My father went off to fight in the Boer War, and he never came back. So Mother raised us all. I got sent out to work as a scullery maid when I was 12. It was hard, and I didn't like it much, but it paid, and I was able to give my mother some money to live on. Then in 1916 my eldest brother, and my favourite, went to war in France. He didn't come back either. I was, in a word, devastated. When I got over the initial shock, I took it more personally. I mean here I was, just 17, and I'd never seen the world, or anywhere outside the south-east really. David's death made me realise that life was short, you didn't know what was round the next corner so you ought to go and have fun while you were still young and could enjoy it. So I did. I quit my job and went up to London. Mother didn't speak to me again. Apparently it wasn't "done".
I lived in the East End for a while. Did some waitressing and bar work. Jobs were fairly easy to come by while we were at war. They were fairly easy to come by afterwards. Especially with the influenza epidemic. I also did some chorus line dancing at the local music hall. When the troupe got a temporary spot in the West End, I went along. I did quite well out of that - a few of us auditioned and got into the regular line-up. It was nice dancing on a famous stage, we all got a lot of interest from the young men as well. I stepped out with my fair share. Some of them were rich too. It was Spring of 1926, as far as I remember. I was 27. My current beau would show up at least once a week with a big bunch of flowers and a smile. He'd take me to a nightspot, we'd dance, drink and generally have fun. I knew Charlie was quite a catch - he even had a car. It was a pre-war De Dion, or something, but it was really nice. Atmospheric. I felt like a proper lady when he took me back home that night. It was early spring, but it was foggy. It was early in the morning, and there wasn't a lot of traffic on the road. We'd been partying for hours, dancing and playing cards. I suppose Charlie wasn't watching where he was going, too busy looking at me I suppose. In any case we hit something. Hard. I remember a flying sensation. Then pain. Then nothing.
Even now I can't remember much about what happened next. Everything is confused. Everything is blurred. It may have taken months for me to come out of it. It may have taken years. I do remember the Second World War though. It reminded me of the time I'd first come to London. All those soldiers with funny accents. It made me smile like I hadn't done for years. Slowly I came to realise. I couldn't see myself in mirrors or in shop windows, but I could see myself in their eyes. A bedraggled thing in old-fashioned clothes, heavy with filth. Wild, staring eyes, a scraped, raw face. Matted blonde hair, dark with dried blood. I learned that I could change my appearance. Tidy myself up. I didn't have a physical self anymore and I couldn't move physical objects. Well, not at the sort of level we're talking about here. I can move individual atoms, and can now, after so many years, create objects from the particles in the air, but not back then. Not in any meaningful way. But I could change myself. I suppose it was more of a glamour. After all, I didn't really exist to them, so what they saw had to be an illusion. So I tidied myself up. Did my hair. Made myself a new, fashionable dress.
For a while I was the belle of the ball again. I drew mens' gazes like I'd always had. I could even talk to them. That one surprised me. After all I don't exist, so why should they listen. But they were fascinated and it worked. For a while. Most of them didn't want to touch. Like I had an exclusion zone round me - "please don't come near". But there is always one or two. They didn't come out of that experience very well, I can tell you. I got a bit of a reputation. Well. Nothing I wasn't used to, but still. When the war came to an end it got worse. No large number of transient men passing through - a fairly steady population. Now that's was a drawback. People certainly started talking then. So I moved on. Every so often I went into hiding. Became like that bag lady on the corner of the street that everyone ignores. Until I felt safe enough to come out and enjoy the world again. I was like that for decades. Never changing, always running. Life was sometimes good, sometimes bad, always interesting.
Then in 1996 I discovered the Internet. What a marvellous thing. I can't move keys on a keyboard, but I can move the atoms in a silicon chip. So I became the literal web surfer. Skipping from computer to computer, leaving my calling card here and there. The ultimate ghost in the machine.
So you have questions for me? Everyone has. I bet I can even guess what they are.
Are there any more of you out there? I've never met another lost soul. But there again not many people I've met guess that there's less to me than meets the eye. I can't see into the souls of men, so I'm sure I can't see into souls when the men aren't there. Who knows? Perhaps we all are, and I never knew.
Did you ever see Charlie again? No. He was killed instantly too. No seat belts, no wind screen, no hope. I visited his grave a couple of times, but to be honest I couldn't work up the sort emotion you need for that kind of thing.
What do you do on the 'net? Chat to people. Now we've got lots of text books, I read them. I'm particularly drawn to writers forums - you get some interesting ideas on them, even if half the poems are about depression and despair!
Since discovering the Internet, do you go out into the real world at all? Sometimes. It's nice to be seen once in a while, but I do seem to get more interaction when I'm online.
What's it like being a ghost? Confusing at times. But you get great clarity of thought.
Is there anything you miss? Sex. Food. Physical contact. You know, the usual stuff. Love is ethereal. Which is nice.
Fancy logging onto *my* computer one night, heh heh. You never know. May be one night, but you won't know I'm there...
Is there anything you regret? Not that much. I had a great life. I'm having a great afterlife. I'm sure people would expect me to say not having children or a husband. But you know, I partied hard. I died too soon, sure. But children weren't a big thing for me. I do have family living and I've checked up on nieces and nephews. One of my favourite nieces is following in my footsteps and is on stage at the moment.
Are you going to stick around? May be, but probably not. So many sites, so little time!
Anyway, hope you enjoyed my story. Take care.
Sarah
Mind you, I suspect that I'll not manage it.
Name: Sarah
Nick: what does this mean?!?
Sex: Female
Age: 27. Well, that's how old I feel!
DOB: 21st January 1899
Location: London
Writes: My life story.
Favourite Authors: Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw, Charles Dickens
Favourite Object: Computers.
Favourite Flavour of Ice Cream: Ice Cream flavour? I've only tried vanilla.
Hmm, the above doesn't give much of a detailed picture of me, does it? I mean, you wonder why I am posting here, and you don't get any answers from the above. How about I give you my potted life's story.
I was born in 1899, in Red Hill, near Croydon. I was the youngest of six. My father went off to fight in the Boer War, and he never came back. So Mother raised us all. I got sent out to work as a scullery maid when I was 12. It was hard, and I didn't like it much, but it paid, and I was able to give my mother some money to live on. Then in 1916 my eldest brother, and my favourite, went to war in France. He didn't come back either. I was, in a word, devastated. When I got over the initial shock, I took it more personally. I mean here I was, just 17, and I'd never seen the world, or anywhere outside the south-east really. David's death made me realise that life was short, you didn't know what was round the next corner so you ought to go and have fun while you were still young and could enjoy it. So I did. I quit my job and went up to London. Mother didn't speak to me again. Apparently it wasn't "done".
I lived in the East End for a while. Did some waitressing and bar work. Jobs were fairly easy to come by while we were at war. They were fairly easy to come by afterwards. Especially with the influenza epidemic. I also did some chorus line dancing at the local music hall. When the troupe got a temporary spot in the West End, I went along. I did quite well out of that - a few of us auditioned and got into the regular line-up. It was nice dancing on a famous stage, we all got a lot of interest from the young men as well. I stepped out with my fair share. Some of them were rich too. It was Spring of 1926, as far as I remember. I was 27. My current beau would show up at least once a week with a big bunch of flowers and a smile. He'd take me to a nightspot, we'd dance, drink and generally have fun. I knew Charlie was quite a catch - he even had a car. It was a pre-war De Dion, or something, but it was really nice. Atmospheric. I felt like a proper lady when he took me back home that night. It was early spring, but it was foggy. It was early in the morning, and there wasn't a lot of traffic on the road. We'd been partying for hours, dancing and playing cards. I suppose Charlie wasn't watching where he was going, too busy looking at me I suppose. In any case we hit something. Hard. I remember a flying sensation. Then pain. Then nothing.
Even now I can't remember much about what happened next. Everything is confused. Everything is blurred. It may have taken months for me to come out of it. It may have taken years. I do remember the Second World War though. It reminded me of the time I'd first come to London. All those soldiers with funny accents. It made me smile like I hadn't done for years. Slowly I came to realise. I couldn't see myself in mirrors or in shop windows, but I could see myself in their eyes. A bedraggled thing in old-fashioned clothes, heavy with filth. Wild, staring eyes, a scraped, raw face. Matted blonde hair, dark with dried blood. I learned that I could change my appearance. Tidy myself up. I didn't have a physical self anymore and I couldn't move physical objects. Well, not at the sort of level we're talking about here. I can move individual atoms, and can now, after so many years, create objects from the particles in the air, but not back then. Not in any meaningful way. But I could change myself. I suppose it was more of a glamour. After all, I didn't really exist to them, so what they saw had to be an illusion. So I tidied myself up. Did my hair. Made myself a new, fashionable dress.
For a while I was the belle of the ball again. I drew mens' gazes like I'd always had. I could even talk to them. That one surprised me. After all I don't exist, so why should they listen. But they were fascinated and it worked. For a while. Most of them didn't want to touch. Like I had an exclusion zone round me - "please don't come near". But there is always one or two. They didn't come out of that experience very well, I can tell you. I got a bit of a reputation. Well. Nothing I wasn't used to, but still. When the war came to an end it got worse. No large number of transient men passing through - a fairly steady population. Now that's was a drawback. People certainly started talking then. So I moved on. Every so often I went into hiding. Became like that bag lady on the corner of the street that everyone ignores. Until I felt safe enough to come out and enjoy the world again. I was like that for decades. Never changing, always running. Life was sometimes good, sometimes bad, always interesting.
Then in 1996 I discovered the Internet. What a marvellous thing. I can't move keys on a keyboard, but I can move the atoms in a silicon chip. So I became the literal web surfer. Skipping from computer to computer, leaving my calling card here and there. The ultimate ghost in the machine.
So you have questions for me? Everyone has. I bet I can even guess what they are.
Are there any more of you out there? I've never met another lost soul. But there again not many people I've met guess that there's less to me than meets the eye. I can't see into the souls of men, so I'm sure I can't see into souls when the men aren't there. Who knows? Perhaps we all are, and I never knew.
Did you ever see Charlie again? No. He was killed instantly too. No seat belts, no wind screen, no hope. I visited his grave a couple of times, but to be honest I couldn't work up the sort emotion you need for that kind of thing.
What do you do on the 'net? Chat to people. Now we've got lots of text books, I read them. I'm particularly drawn to writers forums - you get some interesting ideas on them, even if half the poems are about depression and despair!
Since discovering the Internet, do you go out into the real world at all? Sometimes. It's nice to be seen once in a while, but I do seem to get more interaction when I'm online.
What's it like being a ghost? Confusing at times. But you get great clarity of thought.
Is there anything you miss? Sex. Food. Physical contact. You know, the usual stuff. Love is ethereal. Which is nice.
Fancy logging onto *my* computer one night, heh heh. You never know. May be one night, but you won't know I'm there...
Is there anything you regret? Not that much. I had a great life. I'm having a great afterlife. I'm sure people would expect me to say not having children or a husband. But you know, I partied hard. I died too soon, sure. But children weren't a big thing for me. I do have family living and I've checked up on nieces and nephews. One of my favourite nieces is following in my footsteps and is on stage at the moment.
Are you going to stick around? May be, but probably not. So many sites, so little time!
Anyway, hope you enjoyed my story. Take care.
Sarah
