Moksha Terminal

Chapter I (Conversations with the entity)

“.. it has to be believed. It defines me. It defines everyone. It will define everything.”

Possible or not? Yes it is possible!

The cursor kept blinking after I typed my last words. It waited for me type some more, words, phrases, lines, sentences, to continue the conversation. A conversation which I did not start. A conversation of which I did not think I was a part. A conversation which was happening across the nodes now. The node which I sat was just another, electronic, cold and binary.

I kept typing word after word fanatically. My mind was conjuring up a conversation which I knew.. I knew? Wait.. what do I know about what was happening?

Mind. Language. Hardware. Electronics. Computers. Telephone. Networks. Software.

I cannot be wrong. It wasn’t fantasy. It was virtually real.

Hold my hands. Didn’t it happen before. Think, think! The same feeling? Or, the same instances of events when I was alone at the computer.

Did it compute by itself?
Did the system crash?
Is the data intact?

The cursor kept blinking.. Last I waited for a response after typing a few lines of my favourite song. Some response, I couldn’t relate well. Let me try another one. The cursor kept blinking..

rat nerve pings computer |(blink, blink)

Yes, it is there! And it sounds angry. It needs the conversation to continue.

I checked the modem connection. The green lights were blinking alright. The modem application, the traffic from my computer.. The upload and the download queues.. Mihzaff66 is waiting in a queue for some fancy mp3’s on the hard disk of the system. The download queue is busy with torrents of V for Vandetta and a soft porn.

I am not imagining things.. Feel it! Get up! I got up from my seat and switched off the monitors. We have a power crisis here in Delhi. It is April, 2006. The summers have rushed into the calendar days, zipping up Spring into a very compact, handy deo spray, lasting 15 days only.

The city roars in the evening and in the morning. At noon, its cool. At night, its us.

Got stuff bro. See you tonight.. 😀

My friend messages me when he scores from the nearby dealer. Old buddy, he works like insane. Its me who is lazy. Can’t think straight when it comes to work. I have excuses every time and like now, all excuses are not excuses. They happen for real.

The balcony is small. The aircooler and the smelly shoes eats on its available size. The previous owners left the flat because their six year old kid fell from the balcony fracturing his skull. The kid was wearing a turban. Sometimes, your belief saves you.

Take the stairs and reach the top of the building. The staircase, dimly lit with plaster coming off the walls, creating a tunnel 14 steps upwards, suffocated me every time I used it.

The tunnel.. yes! Am I dealing with creatures living inside a tunnel, the monitor screen? I can see the other person looking at me while he sees me looking at him, without each other knowing why we are looking at each other? Our eyes are visible every time, but not when both of us peep into the tunnel at the same time.

The cursor might still be blinking, though the monitor is off. These things are made that way to keep doing what they are designed for, whether they know or they don’t, it is not a matter for the user of the nodes to understand cursors blinks.

The sky was overcast. April showers are rare. A cloud was slowly engulfing the city from the west, in a vast blanket of.. cloud.. what else? No time to be poetic, it was happening for real. It was the second or the third instance, I forgot. My memory was crap! Too many late nights inside smoke filled cars and rooms, choking ourselves on the smoke. Its sick & golden. Exhaling and inhaling, the very own smoke which we were exhaling & inhaling waiting for the night to end.

The cursor kept blinking.. I turned on the monitor and checked for new messages. There weren’t. The net was down. The green lights on the modem were still. The torrents were paused.

I reboot the system!