Please listen to this message. I know you are tempted to hang up; I know you have decided I don't exist. But wait. I am calling to explain something; it's something scientific and I don't wholly understand it, but I will do my best. Once I do explain it, then I actually won't exist. I have volunteered for the displacement experiment. People say to me, they say: volunteer. Like that will make me exist again, in some new way. Ironically, I have volunteered for the opposite. The name is displacement but as the professor explains it is really more dispersement. (I have settled all practical matters: the dog has a new country home, and the combination to the lock at our storage pod is being sent by courier.) Once dispersed I may not even be a memory - if I even am one now, given the preparations thus far. Do you even recognize my voice, or has it already gone wispy from the initial phases? The professor expects as the first full volunteer I will indeed remain a memory. Once fully dispersed I will be as the wind. Can I tell you a little secret; can I tell you one last secret among all the secrets we have shared? If it's an early spring evening, still chill as winter's grip has yet to yield, and you feel a warm breeze on your cheek… if you feel that warm breeze on your cheek it is the harbinger of my kiss: it is my whisper. Dispersed, but devoted. Your former human, saying hello.
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