-point of departure-

A man is on a bicycle. It is nighttime, he’s riding through the city. The man’s phone rings and he stops to answer it.


First of all, I want you to tell me your name,

“No, I can’t do that.”

Well then, I’m not going to be able to help you, am I?

“What makes you think I want your help?”

You know very well that you want it. Perhaps we should start again. Let me introduce myself. My name is Sebastien. What I am about to say to you is not a request or a plea, but an order. If you follow my instructions exactly, then you will get all the help you are looking for.

Five hundred metres further along the street that you are now on is an obelisk. I want you to ride to the obelisk and wait there. Right beneath it. After waiting for a while you will begin to hear a certain unceasing frequency. The sound will not be particularly low or high in pitch and that sound will be all you will be able to hear.

It will fill your ears like darkness fills a room when the light is switched off.

This sounds will drown out all other sounds; the traffic, people walking by, conversations, areoplanes and car alarms will all be silent to you. You will not be able to discern if this sound is loud or soft, human or mechanical, or if it is emanating from above or below, from within or without. It will just be.

I cannot tell you how long the sound will continue for, but when it stops you will know it. And when it stops you will also know that it is over, everything is over. And you will go home.

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